Click to Subscribe - By L. M. Augustine Page 0,23

I was desperate, and I decided to combine the two, and I used your vlog to do it. I created a fake profile and started commenting. I didn’t know what I was doing—I was being stupid, that’s what I was doing—but I just thought… if maybe I could befriend you there, you would see how perfect we are together, without the confusion and weirdness of us also being best friends. And on top of that, you would see how I really do love you… and maybe, just maybe, you could love me back.”

There’s a long pause before Cat continues. I don’t say a word, still dumbfounded like a fucking moron.

“I know everything about you, West, and you know everything about me. We’ve never had to hide anything from each other. But that day, and every day after that, I had to hide something from you, something most people would tell the whole goddamn world about.” She takes a deep breath, and our eyes lock. “I had to hide my love for you,” she whispers. “And that first meet-up, I or Harper or whoever the hell you want to call me, didn’t miss it because I was caught in traffic. I missed it because I was scared. Scared,” she says, “of this. Scared of you.”

Then, she stops, and takes a step back. My head throbs, and I feel my blood getting hotter and hotter. Cat loves me. My best friend loves me. How am I supposed to feel? Shocked? Happy? Scared? I sure as hell feel none of those things, mostly just straight-up confusion, although my heart won’t stop beating and my mouth refuses to work properly. And, in the back of my mind I wonder: do I love her back?

But I don’t know.

I just don’t know.

“What do you want me to say?” I look up at her, and she looks back at me. She’s tall, almost as tall as I am, her long red hair a major contrast to my dirty blond. I used to joke with her about how her head was like a red velvet cupcake, with that red-velvet-looking hair and pale skin and perfect smile to go along with it.

I love that smile.

It’s just a line now, though—a twisted, sad line.

Her eyes level with mine. Her breathing is even and sounds somewhat pained as she whispers, “I want you to tell me if you’ll give this a shot.”

“Give what a shot?” I ask, but I already know the answer.

“If you’ll go on one date with me,” she says, “like we’ve never met before, and just… see. Just try to be together—as a real couple.”

I look at her, but I don’t speak. I realize then that it would be so easy to say yes, to tell her I’d love to try this, to tell her what the hell and go for it because I can, because I don’t want to see her go and because what if I do love her and don’t know it? But somehow, I can’t find the courage to say it.

I still feel so sick, so empty and tired, and I have no idea if I’ll ever be able to process all this. I have no idea how to respond to her, either.

“West, please just answer me,” Cat whispers. “I’ve waited years for you. Just give me a response.”

I take a deep breath, my jaw clenching. What am I supposed to say? Yes? No? Maybe? I’ll think about it and get back to you? All of the answers feel wrong, somehow, and I realize there is no way out of this but the truth.

“No,” I finally say, turning away from her. “I’m sorry, but no.”

All at once, Cat’s smile slips, and she shakes her head a little. “Thought so,” she says quietly, in a way that’s so serious and empty at the same time that I feel like I’ve done something horribly, horribly wrong. Then, she turns, brushes past me, and walks down the street until she disappears out of sight.

I almost don’t see the tears in her eyes.

***

Everybody seems to be watching me as I walk home. I keep my head down, not meeting their gazes, but I still see their eyes. All of them are strangers, dressed in business clothes or coats or whatever as they rush down the sidewalk to get out of work, but they all seem to be giving me the same disappointed look. It’s like they know what I did. It’s like they know I broke my best