Samantha takes a sip from her iced quad nonfat one-pump mocha with whip. I think she can tell talking about summer school is awkward and touchy for me. I wish my best friend was as quick on this front. “I love working here, but I sort of miss my freedom too. But I want to work in business one day, and my mom said it’s best to work at every stage possible before climbing the ranks so I never turn into some monster expecting masterful work from employees making just enough to get by.”
“What kind of business?” I ask.
“I would love to start my own app games. I have this one idea. It’s like Frogger, but instead of heavy-traffic streets, it takes place on the sidewalks of New York. You die if you get hit with someone’s shopping cart and you lose points if you cross a tourist’s path while they’re taking photos. Stuff like that.”
“I would play the hell out of that and dominate the leaderboards,” I say. “Dylan was practically playing a real-life version of it on our way over here.”
“What? I didn’t want to miss the start of her break,” Dylan says. He’s sheepish about it, which is not a word I would usually tag on Dylan. It’s kind of adorable how every minute counts for him. The classic honeymoon stage where everyone feels like they’re riding a unicorn on floating rainbows while drinking Skittle smoothies. But eventually you realize the unicorn was just a horse in costume and now you have cavities.
Samantha smiles at him, like she wants to call him sweet but is holding back. “So yeah, video game apps for me. If you ever have any ideas you want me to profit off of, let me know.” She winks—it’s not a perfect wink, but it’s still charming.
“Can you make a one hundred percent foolproof app that helps people find their soul mate?”
“I was hoping for suggestions on something easier, like a dog-walking app with some sort of twist, but sure.”
I really like her; it’s going to suck to see her go. Maybe I can befriend her behind Dylan’s back. A friendship affair.
“I know it was your call, but how are you doing post-breakup?” Samantha asks. It throws me that Samantha is caught up on Hudson. Probably too soon for Dylan to fill awkward silences by telling Samantha why he broke up with Harriett. He claims it was because Harriett liked being someone’s girlfriend on Instagram more than she actually liked him. But I know it’s because Dylan just woke up and wasn’t feeling it one day. Yeah, definitely not something you tell your potential next girlfriend.
“First relationship. First breakup. First time someone really hates me. I just wish we could be friends,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” Samantha says.
“It is what it is.” I down my sour strawberry lemonade in four sips, like some depressed adult throwing back shots, and I chew the ice because I paid for that too dammit.
“I hope he comes around,” Samantha says.
“His loss,” I say, trying to shake it off. I throw my Happy Best Friend Face back on. “So, Titanic, huh?”
“I’ve loved it since I was a kid,” Samantha says. “Though now I want to see a favorite of Dylan’s.”
“Transformers, hands-down,” Dylan says.
Samantha cringes. “Maybe dinner tomorrow instead. I can take you to the seafood spot I was telling you about.”
“Tomorrow is Friday the thirteenth,” I say.
“Oh right! I’m not superstitious, don’t worry,” Samantha says.
“Me either,” Dylan says. “I walk under ladders like it’s no one’s business.”
“Yeah, like when you were eight and you broke your arm an hour later,” I say. He was so freaked out by the pain that he had a panic attack. He swore he was dying, it was so bad. But I’m a good friend and I never bring that up. I’m so glad I wasn’t around to see him fall off his bike.
“Bad coincidence,” Dylan says.
“Or bad luck.” I shrug. “Anyway. We have a tradition. Horror movies at House Boggs on Friday the thirteenth.” This has been running strong since eighth grade. “I’m in a Chucky mood.”
“Why Chucky?” Samantha asks.
“It’s awesome. It’s like Toy Story but fucked-up.”
“I’m definitely not messing with tradition,” Samantha says. “This sounds amazing.”
Dylan side-eyes me.
I really don’t want to be a cockblock, but I’m pretty sentimental. And Dylan can’t blow me off for a girl he’s known for less than week, no matter how awesome she is. Back in April Hudson and I were going to watch the new X-Men movie, and it was one of the few things he was excited about after the divorce, but it released on Friday the thirteenth, so I canceled our plans like a good friend and Hudson saw it with Harriett.
“You should hang with us,” I say. I mean it. “I’m cool being the third wheel.”
“I feel like I’ll be the third wheel,” Samantha says.
“Ben, find a dude and let’s make it a double date.”
“Okay, sure, yeah, I’ll just spin around and choose someone here.”
I turn as a joke and I make eye contact with the cute guy in the Human Torch shirt. I spin back to Dylan and Samantha with flushed cheeks. This is the universe popping up again. I want to make a move here. Because what if he’s the one who’s really supposed to fill the space that was carved out for Hudson?
“I’m going to say hi to that guy,” I announce.
“Ooh, which guy?” Samantha asks.
“The dude with the laptop.” I realize there are four dudes with laptops in my line of vision. “Human Torch shirt.”
“Go for it,” Dylan says. “Get yours. Do it! Do it!”
Get mine. Hudson isn’t the only one who can move on. I’m not going to psych myself out. I’m walking over and going to tell him he took my table as a joke and—
A gorgeous black girl approaches his table and she kisses him right on the lips.
I return to Dylan and Samantha.
“Of course he’s straight,” I say.
“Maybe he’s bi,” Dylan says. “And in an open relationship.”
“Or my life sucks,” I say. “And maybe Hudson will be the last person who wanted me.”
“That alien wanted you,” Dylan says.
“Alien?” Samantha asks.
“But I’m never going to see him again,” I say.
“Come on, there’s got to be something about him we can try to find.”
“What alien?” Samantha asks again.
“I met a guy at the post office,” I say. “His name is Arthur. But I didn’t get his last name and I don’t remember giving him my name at all.”
“Oh my god.” Samantha squeezes my arm while bouncing. “I love a mystery. My best friend, Patrick—”
“Your best friend is a guy?” Dylan asks.
“—calls me the Nancy Drew of social media—”
“Is Patrick gay?”
“—because I helped him find some girl online—”
“Bisexual?”
“—that he met at his brother’s graduation.”
I ignore Dylan’s dizzying interruptions and focus on Samantha. “How did you find her?”
“He told me everything about the graduation that I could use as keywords for Twitter searches, like the ugly beige gowns and some quotable moments from the valedictorian’s speech. But then we just went down a rabbit hole of the graduation’s hashtag on Instagram and found her. Turns out she doesn’t have Twitter.”
“Whoa.”
“Okay, but really, back to Patrick,” Dylan says.
Samantha grabs Dylan by the shoulders. “Patrick is like a brother to me, creep. Good? Yay. Ben, tell me everything you know about Arthur.”
“No point. I already did the Twitter hunt and I came up with nothing.”
“Are you also the Nancy Drew of social media?” Samantha asks.
I smile. It’s cool that she’s so generous—or maybe she’s really bored. Either way, I fill her in on everything I already searched for on Twitter.