Until the Olsen twins' party, the most embarrassing thing I had ever done was run butt naked through my elderly neighbor's garden, sparkling like I had just spent the night in a glitter powder factory.

There were two mitigating circumstances in that situation. One, I was five years old, evading my mother who tried to scrub me clean after I coated myself in glue and confetti. My art project had been inspired by a show on Hollywood celebrities that 'shone like night stars', and I already knew back then where my aspirations lay. Two, we moved away four months later, and I never even glimpsed that woman again. The only time I got reminded of this memory was during sleepless nights when my brain would decide to bring up fun scenarios for us to stress over together.

The most embarrassing thing after the Olsen twins' party?

I slept in Aiden's t-shirt.

There were no excuses this time. Sure, it was midnight by the time I dropped Amber home, helped her sneak into her bedroom, and then repeated the same procedure within my own four walls, again bumping into that damn elephant statue. But I wasn't drunk, and no stimulants clouded my judgment. There was a slight possibility that I was a stereotypical heroine in a romance novel, but my clumsiness was a sporadic rather than a perpetual trait.

Once in the safety of my humble sanctuary, I took off both his t-shirt and my ruined polka dress, shed them on the reading recliner in the corner, and donned my favorite pair of pajama shorts covered in clapperboard emojis. I usually slept in old, faded t-shirts, but all the usual candidates seemed to be in the wash. I glanced at the discarded blue fabric draped over the rolled armchair, a semi-clean alternative with the added benefit of a lingering Aiden scent.

I put it back on.

There was no excuse; I had become the ultimate cliché. Remarkably, not even that dreadful thought could have stopped me from sugary, peaceful dreams of me enjoying a garden stroll with Robert Pattison and Mr. Darcy. The latter suspiciously resembled the guy whose clothes I was wearing, the only difference present in the shape of sensational sideburns.

A garbage disposal truck woke me up, rolling down the street like a bowling ball aiming for pins. I groaned as I checked the time – 7:54 a.m. – but no matter how many times I turned my pillow over and kneaded it like stubborn bread dough, there was no way I could fall asleep again. I rolled the blinds about one quarter up and flopped on the mattress, stomach down, like a heavy wooden plank. With my head propped on my palms and my legs akimbo, I covertly sniffed the t-shirt one last time, and then closed my eyes to daydream about the recent events.

Was it possible that he... liked me?

The evidence was there, scattered across a two-week time frame. He wanted me to join him and his friends during their movie night hangout. He asked me to partner up for our Film Production class. He lent me his clothes and paraded his surprisingly defined pecs. And maybe the most important clue: despite my half-assed attempts to convince myself otherwise, I could have sworn he wanted to kiss me right before Amber and Troy interrupted us.

But a tiny voice in my head still wouldn't leave me alone. There was, after all, a pretty solid possibility his abs had warped my sense of perception. The bathroom was poorly lit at best. And maybe his asking me to work on a project together was actually a bad thing – maybe an A+ in Film Production class was his sole goal all along.

Because... why? I asked the cackling devil on my shoulder. Why would a guy who had over two million followers on a video-sharing app want to collaborate with a girl who had zero? I shook my head at his flawed logic and turned on TikTok.

The break-in material from two nights ago was still uploaded there, its views unsurprisingly nonexistent. I remembered my promise to forward it to Amber, but I had no option to share anything while the video was set on private. I clicked on its privacy settings and scrutinized the options, opting for the public access so I could get the link. I also checked the 'Duet and React' box so she'd be able to comment. At the time, I had no fear about the video going public – it had no description, no hashtags, plus it had been up on the server for over twenty-four hours, so the algorithm surely wasn't going to promote it.

I sent her the link in our private conversation, knowing it was probably going to be hours before she saw my iMessage. The girl was nursing her first hangover; I was going to have a little chat with her about Troy as soon as we saw each other, but that could most certainly wait.

Led by curiosity and just a tiny spark of the teenage-girl-with-a-crush syndrome, I searched for Aiden's profile. The number of his followers was now around 2.3 million, which didn't really surprise me, seeing it'd been months since the last time I checked. The last few videos appeared to be from the party, quite possibly shot after I had already left, so I clicked on the first one to see what the fuss was all about.

I was immediately welcomed by Edward Cullen's grinning face and his familiar screech. He was hanging from a chandelier in the Olsen twins' living room, throwing what appeared to be cashews at a bunch of footballers who had their mouths open. Every time one of them caught a nut, they would throw their hands in the air and cheer with their supporting crowd. I grimaced at the unsanitary practice and scrolled down.

The second video, timed at ten minutes to two, showed an ugly public breakup. A couple, a guy and a girl, argued while circled by a group of two dozen teenagers. My eyes widened when I recognized Rob and Grace, both of them clearly unhappy with each other. Thanks to the crowd booing and chanting, it was a strenuous attempt to make sense of what they were saying, but I managed to catch "You said you had to leave our date because of Shawn's private problems! You lied to me!" from Grace's side and Rob's irritated "So what? I can't go to parties now?"

I really hoped they'd actually broken up this time.

At one point of those uncomfortable fifteen seconds, I was convinced I saw a flash of Julia's long, blond hair, so I rewatched the footage to catch it again. Wasn't she supposed to work the morning shift in the café today? She wouldn't have stayed that late, right? I tried to pause the video to see better, but instead of tapping the middle of the screen, my finger accidentally slipped and pressed the small plus button.

Oh my God. I had just followed Aiden's profile.

He was going to receive a notification for it no matter what I did next.

I bit my lower lip, angry at my inept digits and awash with hesitation. What if I just unfollowed him immediately? He probably wasn't online right this minute, and with over two million followers, he definitely got like a thousand notifications a day. With much more caution now, I clicked on his profile again and let my thumb hover over the 'unfollow' square.

My phone pinged, notifying me I had received a message.

Unknown: Hey Liz. Aiden here. Did you...

I dropped the phone immediately.

Sweet and merciful ventriloquist on crack. He knew it was me.

That can't be right, the logical side of me spoke. Your handle is completely anonymous. And he texted your number, not your TikTok account.

I carefully grabbed the phone like it was a ticking bomb, bound to explode any minute. My heart threatened to beat out of my chest as I opened the messaging app.

Aiden: Hey Liz. Aiden here. Did u get home safe last night?

I sighed in relief as my mouth stretched in a wide grin. How sweet of him.

Liz: Hi, you're up early 😊 I did, you?

Aiden: Sic. Got home at 3 lol

Liz: Wow. You're up early then!

I stared at the message I had just sent as utter mortification colored my ears red. Did I just make the same comment twice? Was there anything salvageable in this conversation?

The three dots appeared, then stayed on for a while. I knew it. He was retyping his answer. He probably regretted ever texting me in the first place.

Fantastic job there, Liz.

Aiden: I like to go for a run whole it's not so hot

Immense relief hit me in waves, and my knuckles finally relaxed. It wasn't over yet.

Liz: That's dedication for real. I applaud

Aiden: Oh yeah

Aiden: U can join me sometime if u like to jog

Liz: I like sleep too much tbh

Maybe I spoke too soon. It was definitely over.

Liz: But hey, thx for the invite

Aiden: Well it doesn't have to be in the mourning

Aiden: And it doesn't have to be exercise

Aiden: We could go to waffle house say monday evening

Aiden: If u r up for it?

I blinked a few times, then bit my hand so I wouldn't squeal.

Aiden West just asked me out on a date.

I rolled over and landed on my back, grinning from ear to ear. I had to play this right. I had to construct a sentence that would make me sound both interested and nonchalant at the same time. Something that would say, "Oh yes, I would love to share food with you in romantic ambience" but also give off the "I'm extremely cool and get a lot of offers" vibe.

It was a lot to ask of a single sentence, but I nailed it.

Liz: I do like waffles

Aiden: I was hopping you'd say that

Aiden: *hoping, dumb autocorrect

Aiden: Monday at 8?

Liz: Sure 😊

Aiden: It's a date 😉

I couldn't help it.

I squealed like a twelve-year-old fangirl who had just found out her ship was canon.

It wasn't even supposed to be my first date. That honor had already been taken away by Peter O'Brien, the other casualty in the unfortunate orthodontic-braces mishap. But unlike Aiden, I never liked Peter, and I went out with him once solely because he needed a homecoming date and I was too much of a pushover to say no.

Without a warning, the door to my bedroom burst open, and my mom's worried face poked in.

"Liz? Is everything alright?" her eyebrows flew up when she saw me bouncing on the bed, probably looking like an idiot.

"Oh, yeah. I just found out Rian Johnson is making another movie," I lied. In all fairness, it wasn't a complete mistruth; I had found out the news a few days earlier, and my excitement about his new project was genuine, if not the real source of my current buoyancy.

"Rian Johnson?" she frowned.

"One of my favorite directors, duh." I quickly smiled at her before she got offended. "Did you need something?"

"Right. Well, I'm off to the office in a minute. Do you think you could babysit Maddie today?"

"Sure," I replied, aware I didn't really have a choice.

"Thank you," she sighed in relief. "I don't know how long I'll be gone. I'm meeting an old friend of mine for a late lunch."

"A date, huh?" I wiggled my eyebrows at her. After my successful texting session with Aiden, I suddenly looked at the world through rose-tinted glasses.

She blushed. "Don't speak nonsense, Liz. I don't date."

I leaned against the headboard and crossed my arms, facing her. For a businesswoman who was a force not to be reckoned with, my mother was a downright ignoramus when it came to romance. Or social life, for that matter. I couldn't remember a single occasion when she went out for a casual drink or food after work and didn't have a contract ready for the other party.

"You're thirty-three, Mom. Don't act like it's such a shocking idea."

She wagged her finger at me. "Not another word. Your father was all the romance I needed in my life."

"You can say that alright," I muttered. If I didn't count his wrongdoings from eight years ago, the only thing that man had ever done for me was donate his genetic material for my creation.

"What was that?"

I forced myself to smile, not willing to go down that road again.

"Nothing, Mom. Have fun at work."

"Thank you," she nodded, then squinted her eyes at me. "What are you wearing? I don't recognize that t-shirt."

Crap. I should have known I wasn't going to be let off the hook that easily.

"Julia gave it to me. It was a present from her grandma, but she didn't like the style," I blurted out.

My mom inspected the monochromatic t-shirt, probably wondering what part of its boring simplicity offended Julia so much.

"Isn't that a male t-shirt?"

Damn it.

"Hence the reason why she didn't like it," I shrugged, hoping she'd leave it alone.

"Okay. Well, off I go," her head disappeared, then reappeared again. "One more thing. If you're going to watch a movie with Maddie, I think there should be some ground rules."

The white sheets crumpled in my fist. "Like what, Mom?"

"Okay, so one, don't show her any of that foreign crap. You know she can't read the subtitles that fast. Two, if you're watching cartoons, go for something nice, like Disney or Pixar. But," she raised her index finger in the air, "no shows where an animal dies or someone is eating fish or chicken."

I let out a frustrated breath. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. I don't want another episode of her refusing dinner. So no Mulan, no Brother Bear, no Moana, no Shrek, and under no circumstances is she allowed to watch Lion King or The Little Mermaid. I'll text you more of them if I remember."

She finally left, not even deigning to wait for my answer, and I buried my face in the pillow to muffle my scream.

⁂

I was in the middle of watching Elsa climb a snowy hilltop for the umpteenth time when the phone rang.

"Fetch that for me, will you?" I yawned and reached out my hand toward Maddie, who was lounging on her own half of the couch. She took the vibrating device between her two fingers like it offended her and awkwardly handed it to me.

"LET IT GO!" she shouted together with Elsa just as I turned the screen upward. Startled, I dropped the phone in a family-sized bowl of snacks. We both watched it sink in slow motion, and its violent vibrations caused the dish to tremble like we were in the middle of an earthquake.

"Really, Maddie?" I scowled.

The little gremlin stuck her tongue out and snickered, making me believe she'd done it on purpose.

My best friend never called me. Ever. So when I fished up the phone from the popcorn sea and saw her name on top of the screen, a million scenarios flashed through my head. With a tentative swipe, I answered, one hundred percent convinced that the world was ending.

"Amber?"

I could barely utter her name before she barked out a question, all polite greetings omitted. "Have you checked TikTok?"

Sighing, I let myself sink back into the couch cushions and paused the movie with my free hand. My sister watched me with curiosity, so I mouthed "just a sec" at her.

"Not in the last few hours, I haven't," I told Amber. "Why?"

"Well, you should. It's gone viral."

Of course, I knew exactly what 'it' referred to, and my brain took only a single moment to conjure up images of sinking Atlantis, covered in debris that only a calamity could have left behind. My voice started quivering in the aftereffect.

"I-I'll call you back."

I hung up on her and immediately scrolled to the app in question, trying to fight off the sudden anxiety. The feeling temporarily evaporated when I was welcomed by a video of a pug receiving a belly rub, and the pudgy dog panted as it tried to get back up on its feet. After that momentary distraction and some obligatory 'awws', I tapped on the 'Me' section.

Ten thousand followers. Two hundred and fifty thousand likes.

Twelve hours ago, I had zero.

"You must be joking," I murmured, my face going pale. I rubbed my thumb across the glassy numbers as if the action could somehow change them – but when I removed my finger from the screen, they were still there, completely unaltered.

"Lizzy, can we watch the movie?" my sister complained, blessing me with her best puppy eyes.

"Not now, Maddie. Give me a minute."

She begrudgingly accepted my answer but still crossed her arms to show her discontent. I ruffled her hair, got up from the couch, and somehow resisted pacing the floor, heading to another room instead.

Its blissful emptiness made it easier to think, so I hopped onto the closest barstool and leaned against the kitchen island. As I pushed a penguin plushie out of my way, I heard Maddie and Elsa's duet start again, now even louder than before. I shook my head in amusement and focused on the screen, but when I clicked on the thumbnail of the principal's office, any lightheartedness evaporated faster than boiling water.

Amber was right. The video had gone viral.

I scrolled through the comments, not believing my eyes. There was one left by @pretty_girl_in_pink, claiming the video had both given her hope and cleared her skin pores. There was another one by @harrypottersothersock, who thought our prank was the "top grade stuff". There were countless others left by people I had never met in my life, praising me and applauding me and raving about what I'd done.

Of course, none of these people knew who I truly was – the purple bull mascot costume I was wearing in the video, currently folded and expertly hidden in the drawer under my bed, had made well sure of that.

But this didn't make sense. Nobody was supposed to be able to find my account.

Unless...

I bit the inside of my cheek as I once again strayed to Aiden's profile, beseeching all existing and non-existing deities for mercy and hoping that he hadn't uploaded a new video in the meantime. But as I stared at the newest addition on his account, a duet video that was uploaded as a reaction to mine, it wasn't hard to conclude my prayers had been left unanswered. I watched it again, and again, taunted by his exuberant energy as he retold the story of Baby's mysterious appearance. I clenched the device with the realization that not only did he make my story reach a quarter of a million people, he had also helped it be placed in a small high school in Phoenix. Our high school.

There was no doubt in my mind when I put the phone down, my hands trembling in shock and anguish.

I had royally screwed up.