This isn't weird.

A New Friend

Afraid to seem too eager, Ben made himself wait until the next evening before sending her a standing invitation to game night, along with the designated meet up time. Every other Saturday, 8 PM until midnight. As soon as he sent the message, he was racked with anxiety that he had waited too long, that she had already lost interest. Maybe now that the weed was out of her system, he didn't seem that interesting, after all—

It took her less than a minute to message him back.

I'll be there!

Intellectually, Ben knew that his excitement was disproportionate to the situation. He had spent barely more than two hours with this girl, barely more than two minutes one on one, and she had been completely blazed the entire time—he had no idea what her personality was actually like sober. And most importantly, she had left with another woman. There was no rational reason to be celebrating a three word Instagram message.

But every time he remembered their brief meeting, his face broke out into a smile. The way she had latched into his arm and blurted out every single ridiculous thought racing through her head, staring up at him like he was the one person in the world who could possibly understand—

It was just so fucking cute.

And when they had shared that first laugh, at last snapping her out of her panic spiral, and she finally looked at him, really looked at him...

Nobody had ever looked at him quite like that before. It was an expression of such pure, unadulterated trust, of absolute certainty that he was the exact person she wanted with her in that moment. And it felt good to be that person. He wanted to be that person again. Badly. So, irrational or not, when her reply came so quickly, he couldn't help the ecstatic little dance he did with his elbows while he read it. Before he could even begin to worry over when and how to respond, another message quickly followed.

I don't use Insta that much. Text me?

With her phone number at the end. Her fucking phone number.

His happy dance could no longer be contained to just his elbows. Bouncing giddily from his seat on the edge of his bed, he hurried to save the number into his contacts list. Was it Milly or Millie, he wondered? The latter felt right. He could always fix it later. Now, what to text her? Something funny. Something that would make her laugh, without seeming like he was trying too hard to—

A faint ringing noise interrupted his train of thought, and Ben realized with sudden horror that his finger had slipped. He hadn't just saved her number, he had dialed it. He was calling her, like some sort of unhinged lunatic—

"Hello?"

For a split second, Ben seriously contemplated throwing his phone out of the window, changing his name, and moving to Alaska.

Instead, he just blurted, "Hi!"

"Well, well, well," Millie greeted him. "If it isn't my new best friend, Benjamin."

"That's a common misconception. Ben is actually short for Bennifer," he replied. Oh god, what a dumb thing to say—

"You know, I have a cousin with the same problem. Everyone assumes her name is short for Jennifer, but it's actually Jenjamin."

"And let me guess, Millie is short for Milliam?"

"That's me. Milliam McKillip, at your service."

Twenty seconds in, and they were already laughing together. How was this so easy? They just fell into conversation as if they'd known each other for years. Nevermind the fact that Millie McKillip was hands down the cutest name he had ever heard.