BookshopGirl: Forget you read that. Please?

RJ.Reads: But it could be great—we could meet naturally, no pressure. Just two online friends meeting IRL at a book conference.

He’s right, but my stomach twists. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be normal and agree to a casual meetup with an online friend?

Because he’s more than a friend. The truth of it barrels down on me: I care about him. I care about his opinion of me, too. And I’m terrified that meeting him in person will strip away the carefully constructed layers I’ve built about myself, that I won’t live up to the version of me he’s come to know.

RJ.Reads: Hey, you still there?

BookshopGirl: Yeah. Sorry.

RJ.Reads: No, I’m the one who should apologize. You told me you weren’t interested in meeting, and I pushed it again. I’m sorry.

BookshopGirl: Please don’t apologize—like you said, it’s not strange for two people in the same industry to meet at a conference. I’m the one making it weird.

RJ.Reads: What if we’ve already met? Wouldn’t you want to know?

I assume he means we might have already met at IBNE, in prior years. And it’s true, we might have, but I didn’t know it was him. Is it so wrong that I don’t want things to change? Is it so terrible that I want to stay in this online bubble where I can choose my words, take my time, keep everything safe?

The thought of meeting him out there, in the real world—of being seen, really seen—makes my chest constrict. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

BookshopGirl: No, I wouldn’t.

That sounds so harsh. Quickly, I type a new message.

BookshopGirl: All I mean is that I really love what we have right now and I don’t want to mess that up.

RJ.Reads: What if it didn’t mess it up, though? What if it made it even better?

And then it hits me: the only thing scarier than the possibility of losing my online friendship with RJ is the possibility of it turning into something more.

RJ.Reads: Sorry, I did it again. From now on, the ball is in your court (so to speak. I never played sports so that analogy doesn’t feel right. The library book is now checked out to your account? The bookshelf is yours to arrange?)

“Good morning, darling sister!” Georgia calls as she comes in the door.

I quickly type a response to RJ:

BookshopGirl: Thank you for understanding. I appreciate it.

“Hey! How were your exams?” I say, pocketing my phone.