Anonymous

It was awkward.

After Elena shut down my excitement, she sensed that I was irritated and left, using some lame-arse excuse as a cover. And for the week after that, we didn’t really talk.

I hated it. Although I was happy for myself, and my friends online were buzzing with excitement for me, there was something off about the whole thing. More than anything, I wanted my real best friend to jump up and down and fangirl with me.

Maybe I was asking for too much. But it didn’t really feel like it.

When I woke up Sunday morning, I did my normal routine and rushed downstairs. The house was completely empty, since Mum had promised to take Maria to some videogame expo that she’d been looking forward to for months and Dad had gone north to visit his cousin and her new baby.

My stomach gurgled as I entered the kitchen and searched around for some eggs to fry for breakfast, the only thing I was capable of making.

Once I finished cooking and eating, I made my way back upstairs, immediately logging into my laptop and onto writersunite.com.

When I saw that I had two messages, I felt a little uneasy. I couldn’t really describe it, but there was something about getting a message I hadn’t expected that scared me a little. Although I’d never heard of anyone getting stalked on the site or anything, there was always a first time for everything.

I clicked on the link, bracing myself for horror. But instead, it was just a little message from TakeMeHome, a girl that had shown interest in my story.

My panic subsided to a serene calmness as I clicked on her message.

okay i know that we dont really know each other all that well but i was wondering if i could talk to you about something. i would talk to one of my friends but i feel like they wont understand and for some reason i think youre not a judgmental person.

Oh, there was that panic. How I missed it. But, even so, I responded that of course she could talk to me.

While I waited for an answer, my insides tied themselves up into knots over and over again. Part of me was really concerned that her problem was not something she should be talking to me about. What if it was something really serious, something that required professional help? I was certainly no therapist. I couldn’t even solve my own friendship woes.

Even though it was only six minutes before the reply came, it felt more like six years. Or maybe six decades.

this is going to be really awkward to tell you and please dont hate me but um…im not really who i say i am. im not laura, a twenty-year-old girl who works as a waitress or whatever the fuck i told you.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, feeling my heart start to race and my face explode with a blush. Elena had been right. There were old men lurking online. And I had managed to befriend one. No wonder no one else really talked to her. Because they could tell that she was a weirdo, a pariah, a child molester.

Oh my God, I was such a fucking moron.

But just to keep things safe, I responded, Oh? Then who are you, exactly?

Just as I pressed submit, I dialed Elena’s number and put the phone to my ear, praying and praying that she’d pick up. Please. I needed someone to hear my voice before I died.

“Hello?” she asked, her voice sad.

“Elena, I might have just gotten myself into a lot of trouble,” I told her, tears starting to fill my eyes. “And if I die right now, I want you to know that I love you and you’re the best friend ever and I wish we weren’t fighting. Okay?”

Her breath came faster in the receiver, almost to the point of hyperventilating. “Jess, what the fuck are you talking about? Where are you right now?”

“I’m in my house, in my room, alone. And I just got told that one of the girls online is not who she says she is. And I’m panicking. I don’t remember everything I told her. What if she knows where I live? If she knows my name and my general location, it wouldn’t be that hard for her to figure out where I live. So I might die.”

“Okay, breathe, Jess,” Elena scolded. “Did she say she was a fifty-year-old convicted sex offender?”

“No.”

“Then you still have a shot. Just stay on the phone with me until she answers you, okay? We need to be calm about this.”

I took a couple yoga breaths, thankful that I had decided to call her while I was going through my crisis.

A minute later, the notification popped up. “Okay. She answered.”

“Open it.”

I did as she asked.

And there it was.

im actually louis tomlinson. i just felt really bad not telling you. please dont hate me.

“Holy fucking God,” I gasped, my heart speeding up even further. “Elena Elena Elena Elena.”

“What, Jess? Talk to me.”

“She says…well, he says…God, this is confusing.”

“Just spit it out!”

“He says that he’s Louis Tomlinson. You know, the guy that I have two stories about online? He says that’s his account.”

“Do you believe him?”

“How could I?” My blood pressure returned to normal as the truth set in. There was no way this guy was Louis Tomlinson. Why the hell would he make an account on a random writing website, even if he did like my story? It just didn’t add up.

“Maybe he just loved your story that much?” she suggested hopefully.

“Since when are you the optimistic one?” I laughed, the sound nervous and uncomfortable in my ears. “But whatever. I’m just going to respond that I don’t believe him, and then I’m going to block him.”

But after I sent my simple message and sat back, there was a part of me that might have believed his lie a little bit.

So I refrained from blocking him. But I didn’t tell Elena that.

“Do you want me to go over?” Elena asked. “Are you really scared?”

“If you’d come over, that would be great,” I replied honestly.

“Great. I’ll be there in ten.”