This comes back with a flashing red screen so I try just blue and it works. I guess my first answer was too correct. Whatever.

I am asked about my dogs’ names, my favorite types of doughnuts and my favorite movies.

I am typing quickly, the competitive part of my brain taking over, so caught up in getting answers right and getting to the next level that I forget that questions like this are usually passwords. Leading somewhere, unlocking a message.

So I am taken aback when the screen flashes green after I correctly answer that Dani was the contestant who should’ve been chosen but was totally robbed last season on The Bachelor and another question doesn’t pop up.

Instead, this message appears.

Dear Sara,

Caring about you means I want you to be the happiest you can be. I want the best for you. I want more laughs that make your eyes sparkle. More of that joy that rolls off you when you’re dancing to your favorite song. I want the coziest feeling of warm blankets and tea to find you every time you are sick or sad.

And I don’t know if I’m the one who can make that happen. But I hope I can be.

I know this is foolish and dorky, but I mean, when you have a crush on someone, isn’t that the time to be foolish and dorky? To risk looking like a complete idiot for the chance to be endlessly happy?

So after all these questions there’s one I’m still afraid to ask.

But I thought I’d let you know. Just in case I maybe could make you happier.

I wanted to tell you that I think I am falling for you.

And I wanted to ask, if maybe you might feel the same way too?

I stare at the message for a long time. It’s so cheesy and ridiculous, and so I’m not really sure why I’m crying.

Maybe it’s because fancy dinners and helicopters are great, but a bad temper and fighting are sad replacements for passion.

Maybe because I didn’t realize that the person I wanted to go everywhere with and talk with about everything that happened to me, who made late nights studying less brutal and good news worth celebrating, that maybe... That was the person I was in love with.

In a sort of trance, I stand and walk to Robbie’s bedroom door. I am not even sure what I’m going to do, what I’m going to say, as I raise my hand to knock.

The door swings open. Robbie stands in the doorway, holding his phone to his ear.

“I...” I gesture behind me toward the table.

His gaze goes to the screen. “Te llamo luego,” he says into the phone before hanging up.

There is panic in his eyes. “Sara, I can explain—”