spill the details of the entire night, from the flirty beginning, to the awkward middle bit, to the perfect ending. I love telling Ollie stories because he is the best listener—he animates at all the right moments.
“Finally!” Ollie says.
“I know.”
“I told you so.”
“You did.”
Ollie plugs his laptop into the TV monitor on his desk and opens Toy Story because it’s the only appropriate thing to do when something major happens. Toy Story is one of our many things—we got in heated toddler fights about Woody vs. Buzz.
But now, we share them whenever Something Big happens. Like the morning Mad and Ari got their first nomination. Or the day last year when Ollie kissed Mark Lieberman under the bleachers after hitting the game-winning home run. Or the first time One True Pastry got a shout-out from an author on Twitter.
And now, hours after Nash said, I’m so into you.
It’s definitely a Toy Story occasion.
Ollie looks up from his screen. “Wait. What did he say when you told him? I mean, you’re glowing, so it must’ve not been terrible, right? He understood? Everything is great?”
I chew my lower lip. “Oh. I mean—”
As soon as it clicks, all enthusiasm drains from his face.
“Halle.”
“I know.”
He speaks slowly. Emphatic. Like I’m a toddler. “You’re going to BookCon. Kels got the panel. So I really think it’s time—”
“I almost did, okay?”
I figure even though I failed, telling Ollie how close I was to spilling my soul will get him off my back.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know, I tried to bring up Kels—but he shut it down and called his feelings for her, um, me, imaginary internet bullshit. I don’t know, he was all Kels isn’t real, and I just … Maybe he’s right. Maybe she never was.”
“Kels isn’t real. Not if you don’t own it.”
I ugh into a pillow. I want to ride the high of last night before reality sets in. Like, why can’t Ollie be happy for me for two seconds before the patronizing begins?
“Until you tell him,” Ollie says, “stop talking about Nash to me. You can’t have it both ways. Now you’re legit just playing him.”
“Fine,” I say, standing up and storming out of his room. “Done.”
We don’t watch Toy Story.
* * *
Instead, I’m dealing with the Fireflies and You fandom.
I can’t be on hiatus indefinitely—especially not if people think my silence is complicit. It’s not even people’s opinions who matter—it’s Autumn’s. Autumn thinks my silence is support. Yesterday, I proved to her in actions that it’s not.
Today, I want to prove it to her in words.
So I spend my morning putting together a blog post that is very much Not About Fireflies and You and shoot a tweet off into the ether before I can overthink it.
Kels OneTruePastry 2s
it’s heartbreaking when an author you loved disappoints you. did I see fireflies & you? yes! will i be talking about it? no! instead, here’s a list of incredible authors who shout about how much they LOVE writing YA.
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Kels OneTruePastry 1s
my F&Y feelings are vast and complicated, but that’s no excuse to keep giving the author a platform. silence is absolutely not my brand & i’m sorry to anyone who has been hurt by mine.
It’s not enough, but it’s a start, so I mute Twitter notifications on the tweet, close my laptop, and turn my attention to the messages that have accumulated on my phone while I’ve been in OTP land. I blink at the sheer number of notifications, for Halle. I’m used to Kels’s messages blowing up—for me to have so many notifications is a relatively new concept.
Autumn Williams
Um? Why is Nash only communicating in nonsensical emojis??
11:39am
Molly Jacobson
Wtf did I miss?!?!
11:42am
Autumn Williams
HALLE
11:51am
Autumn and Molly must be dying.
Then, I see:
Nash Kim
Hey
12:17pm
Such a dork.
Then again, I am alone in my room and blushing so hard from a text that just says “Hey.”
So who’s the dork, really?
I tap out of my texts and into my OTP email, which I’ve been trying to be a lot better about since almost missing the BookCon email. If I answer their texts right now I’ll go straight down a squee rabbit hole.
I browse through until I see one subject line that reads: unique cupcake inquiry!
It’s from Ariel Goldberg’s publicist.
I read the email and the speed of my heart triples and oh my God, what even? It was one thing to host a cover reveal for her. Now Ariel Goldberg wants One True Pastry cupcakes, my cupcakes, at her book launch? And it’s in Boston.