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“Isn't that illegal? I'm sure that there used to be a show about stuff like that,” I mumble, feeling the panic coursing through my body.
“Catfish!” Ash exclaims, remembering the title. “I used to love it. People believed in those situations. The drama in that show was unbelievable.”
My mouth goes dry when I contemplate the idea. It's not a bad one. People do it all the time, right? It's for fun, so there won't be any harm. The internet is full of users that never reveal their true identities. I follow some accounts like that. I'm not planning to seduce and make John Carter fall for me through a fake account.
I just want some closure. I want to be able to let out all of my inner desires andthenforget about him. It would be like a breakup letter, without the breakup part.
It's crazy, messed up, impulsive, but I still want to do it.
“Pass me the bottle. I need a few drinks before I can take this seriously.”
Ash gasps, realizing that this is going to happen.
I'm not going to pass this chance. I want to be able to dump my feelings—or the illusion of them that I had for him.
Besides, no one will ever know it was me. I highly doubt that he's going to be a Sherlock and decipher the real identity behind an anonymous account. Plus, there's no way of him knowing about this. There are dozens of girls on campus waiting to have a bite of him. The odds are in my favor for once.
Reluctantly, Karma passes me the bottle.
I demonstrate that I’m confident about my choice when I stand up again, drinking straight from the bottle. My eyes water when I swallow the alcohol, gulping more than I should've. Coughing, I try to get rid of the bitter taste that installs in my mouth as I go back to my bedroom.
This time, I turn on the lights to search for the laptop without dropping it. I don't want to have another screen scare. I find it on the desk where I left it hours ago and I carry it extra carefully. My pace is slow because I don't trust my feet when I'm drunk. But I do my best to walk in a straight line without bumping into the walls of the hall.
I find the way back to the living room in one piece. I sit on the floor next to Karma because she's closer to Ash too and that way we don't have to move a lot, and we're all able to watch the screen. My fingers tremble while I put in the password.
I'm nervous and insecure about all this, but the adrenaline is enough to push me through it.
“I hate myself for this,” I say with honesty. However, I don't hold back when I open Safari. “This is stupid. Why am I doing this for him? He's a douchebag, he doesn't deserve a word from me.” Panic takes control of me, bringing back a reasonable thought to my mind.
“This is good for you. Think of it as a cathartic way of getting rid of him,” Karma calms me.
I turn my head to glance at her, frowning.
“Since when are you my therapist?” I quip.
She chuckles.
“Since the day you started screwing up. Which is a lot.”
I bite my tongue to prevent me from snapping at her because, deep down, I know that she's right. Sometimes my friends need to have me on a leash to restrain me from making bad decisions—not that it has worked before.
“What name should we put in the account?” I ask, avoiding a discussion between us.
“Just put a random name,” Ash responds. Her voice shakes with excitement.
This is probably the riskier thing that I've done this semester.
“I can't think of anything!”
Now, this is turning into a failure quickly. I look at the bottle of vodka, trying to find some divine inspiration in the alcohol gods. An idea crosses my mind like a shooting star. It's spontaneous, but I don't let it go away in case I regret it.
“Noff Smir?” They both question at the same time.
It sounded better in my head.
“It's the vodka,” I say in my defense.
They're both disappointed in my choice of name, but they let it pass because even if it's a dumb idea, it serves its purpose. There's no way that someone will track that back to me.
