Me: Hurry up then. I need vengeance.
Eli: I live to serve.
I settle into my seat, tucking my bag onto my lap, already feeling the weight of exhaustion sinking into my bones. I know I should pace myself—rest when I can,especially with the flare-up looming—but Eli makes it so easy to forget.
I haven’t told him about my health yet. Not because I’m ashamed. I’m not. But people tend to see me differently once they know, whether they realize it or not.
I’ve been tempted though. He makes me want to. The way he listens, the way he never makes me feel like too much, it’s dangerous. And the more I open up, the more I forget that he’s still a stranger.
And Eli? He makes me feel lighter, sharper, moremethan I have in a long time. I don’t want to lose that.
Me: They announced it today. Jake Hollander is playing Anlon.
Eli: Ah. The infamous abs-for-brains.
Me: Exactly! I mean, come on, did they even TRY?
Eli: I read an article, and Melinda James said he “understood” Anlon, right?
Me: Ugh. Don’t remind me. There’s no way that man understands Anlon. He probably skimmed the Wiki page five minutes before the meeting and called it a day.
Eli: Or, plot twist—he has a secret bookish side. Maybe he spent nights annotating his copies, crying over character deaths, swearing oaths of fealty.
Me: Oh please! The only oaths he swears are probably gym-related.
Eli: Fangirl. You wound me.
Me: Why would it wound you? You’re so different than he is.
Eli: Fine. Fine. But what if he is good? What if he surprises you?
I stare at myscreen, my fingers hesitating over the keyboard.
Because that? That is not what I was expecting him to say.
Me: You sound suspiciously like someone who WANTS him to be good.
Eli: I sound like someone who wants you to keep an open mind. You should try it, Fangirl—maybe you’ll end up liking Jake Hollander.
I narrow my eyes at my phone, a flicker of unease curling in the back of my mind. A whisper, just out of reach, telling me there’s something here. Something I should notice.
But then my stop is announced, and the thought slips away, lost to the shuffle of passengers rising from their seats, the train slowing to a halt.
Me: I’ll believe it when I see it.
Eli: Fair enough. But for now, let’s redirect your fury. I think you should channel your rage into writing a new fanfic where Anlon commits justifiable homicide against the casting directors.
Me: You’re a terrible influence.
Eli: That’s why you love me.
My fingers freeze.
It’s a joke. Of course it’s a joke.
But for a split second, I wonder—if I told him that maybe, just maybe, I do love him… what would he say?
Don’t be stupid, Amy. You can’t love someone you’ve never met.
