Page 41

Mika hands the mic to a girl at the end of my row—witchy makeup, and a voice that’s a tiny bit breathless. “Wow. Okay—hi!”

Walter smiles at her. “Hi!”

“I love you,” she adds, and there’s a ripple of good-natured audience laughter. “So, my question”—she scoots forward, almost

to the edge of her chair—“goes back to the online discourse surrounding you and Hayden.”

I press my lips together, trying to rein in my expression. But I’m clearly not as slick as I think I am, because—

Walter looks right at me. Just for the barest split second.

The girl continues. “I know in the past, some people have accused you guys of queerbaiting, so I guess I’m just wondering

what it was like having to navigate all of that in the public eye. Figuring out your identities, coming out, being in a relationship...”

She pauses, letting the last part hang in the air. Then, smiling sweetly, she passes the mic back to Mika.

I open my mouth and then shut it. She can’t be serious, right?

Being in a relationship . As if it’s an established fact that he and Hayden are dating. As if Walter didn’t specifically debunk that five minutes

ago. Is she trying to trick him into admitting he and Hayden are dating by pretending he’s already admitted it?

“Oh! Um.” He fidgets with the stem of his microphone, letting out a quick, polite laugh. “I mean, yeah, sorting things out in public was stressful. Announcing it on the internet was—a lot. But I’m, uh, definitely not in a relationship. Never have been.”

There’s an eruption of awwws from the audience, and someone in the back yells, “I’ll date you!”

“He’s saving himself for Hayden Geller!” someone shouts back, and a bunch of people start clapping. Absolutely no stopping

my eye roll this time.

Walter looks at me again, smiling faintly, and my heart almost flips out of my chest.

Walter and Mika disappear as soon as the Q he’s greeting the middle schoolers now. “Thanks for waiting.”

There’s a tiny squeeze in my chest.

One of the kids says something, but I can’t make it out from where I’m standing.

Walter laughs warmly. “Aww—thanks!”

Something about his intonation makes me feel like my throat’s closing up.

I sneak a glance back, and he’s listening intently to the kid. Then he nods and laughs and asks them a question. And it’s

wild, because I can’t even see the kid’s face from this angle. But I know precisely what they’re thinking, how they’re feeling.

Something about painting that moment on the inside of their skull, I’d imagine.

I mean, he recognized me from Instagram. That actually happened. That’s real. At least it sounded real. But here he is talking to a ponytailed twelve-year-old, and—I don’t know.

That sounded real, too.

Parasocially infatuated.

I’m not completely delusional, right? I know how parasocial relationships work. Watching someone’s videos isn’t the same as

actually knowing them. It’s not a real conversation, even if they answer all your unspoken questions.

Feeling seen doesn’t mean they actually see you.

I guess my stupid dandelion heart thought Walter could be an exception. Subjunctively speaking, I mean. Just an if-only.

Is it really that weird to imagine it? He’s a fellow Westchester Jewish kid. We’ve probably been guests at some of the same

bar mitzvahs, at least. I could run into him at Bagel Power. At Barnes & Noble. In a supermarket line. I’ve spent my whole

life seeing his mother’s face on real estate yard signs. For all I know, Walter was there dabbing alongside Jordan Cohen at

all the JCC tween socials.

Amelia from Larchmont. He said it like a memory clicking into place. But did he actually recognize me? Did he even really say he did? Because, yeah,

he replied to two of my comments, but he replies to lots of people. He’s probably replied to literally everyone in this room

at some point. Everyone. The middle schoolers. The hoodie students. Tessa’s dad. Honestly, the more I think about it, the

more it seems insane that I’d even be on his radar. There’s only one thing he even really could recognize me from, and—

Quite frankly, I’d rather he didn’t.