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It’s past eleven by the time we head back, but the walk back to campus makes it feel like the evening’s just beginning. People

are everywhere—milling around the sidewalks, eating pizza on the curb, sprawled out on the arts center lawn. Even the sleepy

residential streets have come alive; it feels like Halloween. The way the night itself seems to unlock.

Could this really be what college is like? This after-dark feeling; miles upon miles of if-only. It’s funny—I’ve been so hung

up on everything ending, I’ve almost forgotten it’s not. College isn’t just the sun going down. Maybe it’s also the part that

comes next, where you dress up like someone brand-new. Maybe it’s a line of houses with wide-open doors.

Edith and Zora bow out as soon as we reach the parking lot, since they’re driving back to Penn Yan for the night. “We’ll be

back by breakfast, okay? Promise,” says Zora.

I hug her. “You should sleep in. Enjoy your love cave.”

“Nope.” Edith shakes her head firmly. “We’re a full two parents away from calling that house a love cave.”

“Shed’s nice, though,” says Tessa.

“Anyway, we’re off!” Edith holds out her arm for an entire orgy of fist bumps. Then she points at the twins and me. “Breakfast, bright and early. Don’t party too hard, okay? I don’t want to have to shake you out of bed tomorrow.”

Zora chimes in with a serious nod, and I can’t help but grin. She and Edith really are that fucking cute. Like, they’ve been

pretty reserved, for the most part, in the sense that they’re not making out on street corners and stuff. But I don’t think

they’ve stopped holding hands since we got here.

“Actually, I think I’ll head back now,” Nat says suddenly.

I turn to her. “Back to the dorm?”

“You don’t have to come.” She’s angled away from the group now, speaking just to me. “I’ll leave the room unlocked.”

“Wait—Nat, what happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m tired.”

I stare her down.

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been really quiet tonight.”

“I’m feeling hermity! It happens.”

“I’ll come with you. I mean, it’s already, what, eleven thirty?”

“Amelia.” She glances at Walter, then back at me. “Come on. I’m not going to ruin this for you.”

“You’re not ruining it—”

“Here, you take this.” She hands me the keycard to the dorm entrance.

“And, what, you’re just going to break in? Climb up the side of the building?” I tap the card to her forehead. “Let me at

least walk you back.”

“Wait, are you guys heading back to the dorm?” I look up to find Imogen. “Mind if I run up with you? Forgot my phone charger.”

Natalie shoots me a halfhearted smile. “Guess I won’t have to climb the building after all.”

Tessa leaves with them, so I guess I’m the final girl now. Me and my boys. One of whom happens to be Walter fucking Holland.

What an extremely normal turn of events. Highly doubt I’ll spend the rest of my life casually inserting this story into every

conversation I ever have with literally anyone, forever and ever, until death do us part.

But it’s funny, because the longer I live in this moment, the less weird it feels. Which may be the weirdest part of all.

You wouldn’t think hanging out with your number one favorite YouTuber is the sort of thing your brain could acclimate to, but here we are. Just a nonsensically normal Saturday night.

We settle onto the lawn by Mark’s dorm, near the scissor sculpture. Turns out, Walter’s staying here too, in some other friend’s

recently vacated dorm room. By now, it’s almost midnight, but I’m wide awake. Fully charged. And the courtyard’s still buzzing

with activity, too.

“Geneva, New York,” I say. “The city that never sleeps.”

Walter laughs. “Tessa says this is where most of the underclassmen are staying. If they’re sticking around for graduation,

I mean.”

“Right! That’s tomorrow.” I scoot back against a tree trunk, so I’m facing the sculpture head-on. “Sorry, I’m gonna need to

keep these scissors in my line of vision,” I explain. “As a bisexual.”

Mark lets out a full-dimple laugh, and I have to grin back. He’s in such a weirdly chill mood tonight, and I love it. It looks

good on him, too. Even his posture looks looser. “What time do you have to be at the ceremony?” he asks, turning to Walter.

“Oh—I’m not. I was just gonna sleep in and play things by ear. Is that bad?” He smiles sheepishly. “No offense to Dan. I don’t even know if I want to go to my own graduation.”

I open my mouth and then shut it. “Is that—an option? You can skip your own graduation?”

Walter shrugs. “It’s not illegal.”

“It’s illegal in my house,” I say. “Punishable by no graduation gifts.”

“Not that!” He lets out a fake gasp.

“Listen, I’ve got a whole lot of aunts and uncles,” I say, “and when I tell you they love multiplying by eighteen...”

“Jews,” Walter says fondly.

I laugh, a little breathlessly. “You know, this is so weird for me, right?”

“What’s weird about it?”

“Everything! You’re you! You’re right here .” I shake my head. “And you’re real!”

“That’s right. Pure realness. Not like that little faker online.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I scrunch my nose up. “You’re definitely not fake. You’re, like, almost exactly the same.”

“Almost?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I don’t know! Kind of? Like, this is you online.” I tilt one hand up in front of my chest. “And this is you in real life.”

I hold up the other hand two inches away. Like prayer hands split apart.

“Huh.” Walter smiles. “Okay, how am I different?”

“Like, specific examples?” I glance back at Mark, but he’s giving me nothing. Probably because he’s never watched a Walter

video on purpose. I turn back to Walter, trailing a hand through the grass. “Okay, so, it’s like—you have the same sense of

humor, but it’s more fast-paced online.”

He laughs. “Because it’s edited!”

“Well, yeah. But you’re also just more loosey-goosey offline.”

“Everyone’s more loosey-goosey offline,” Mark points out.

“Okay, true.” I pause. “I don’t know—it’s hard to explain. Like, you move your hands more in real life. But the facial expressions

are the same.”

“I don’t even know what kind of faces I’m making,” he says.

“Good.” I pat his arm. “It’s refreshing.”

“Refreshing,” he murmurs.

“It is! Like—you don’t act like a famous person.”

Walter laughs. “I’m not famous.”

Mark and I both look at him.

“I’m not!” He shakes his head. “Do you think I’m, like, out here getting recognized all the time?”

“Um. Yes?”

“What? No! Sometimes teachers will see my name and ask me if I’m Annie’s brother—”

“You’re telling me you’ve never run into a Drama Clash fan in the grocery store?”

“I mean, sometimes. But not, like, often. And if it happens, they’re usually just asking for Hayden’s number.”

“Well, that’s annoying,” I say.

“Very.”

“I don’t get it.” I tilt my head. “I like Hayden. He’s—you know, he seems great. But you’re the best thing about Drama Clash,”

I say. “Always have been.”

Walter seems to hesitate. “Thanks,” he says, finally, with a split-second smile. “I think that’s probably an unpopular opinion.”

“Well, it’s the right opinion. Look, you want my hottest take?”

Walter raises his eyebrows. “Sure.”

“Hear me out. Drama Clash is good... but.” I raise a finger. “Walter Holland Speaks? Is immaculate.”

“Okay, that’s bullshit.” He scoffs, but he’s grinning.

“It is not . Back me up, Marcello.”

Mark nods solemnly. “She’s right. It’s been scientifically proven.”

“Oh, well.” Walter smiles. “Can’t argue with science.”

“Seriously! No shade on Drama Clash. Massive fan. But.” My cheeks go warm. “Walter, your coming-out video changed my life.

You know that, right?”