12 Steps to Not Fall in Love on Wattpad

ᴛʜᴇ "ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ" ᴛʏᴘᴇ ✉️

xxx: aha I’m not a stalker or anything but better be because I’m cute LMAOO jk jk

xxx: Ahem in case you don’t know what I mean, I read your bio and then I clicked on that link cause I’m gonna investigate where I know my nosey ass shouldn’t be and I liked it. Clever to whomever that made it.

I read the messages again. And again. 

She called me clever! 

Okay, technically, she called the person who made the website clever, but she wouldn’t have found it if it weren’t for me. So… it counts. Right? 

I decided it does.

Calm down, Nini. Deep breath. You’ve done this before. You’ve talked to people in English and survived. You’ve practiced. You’re ready. 

I stare at my phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I bite my lip, hard. 

I can do this. How hard can replying to a message be?   

— Ugh!

I lock my phone and throw it onto the bed like it’s cursed.

It’s just a text. Why am I like this? 

— Okay, one more try.

I grab my phone and start pacing. The house is quiet—Mom’s at work, my brother’s at school, and it’s just me, my thoughts, and the occasional sound of cars and neighbors outside. My slippers slap against the floor as I go back and forth, back and forth. 

What do I even say to her? Something cool? Something casual? Something that doesn’t make it sound like I let a toddler borrow my phone? 

I thought writing about this in my diary would help, but nope. No inspiration there. Should I be direct? Answer only her questions? Or maybe I should ask her something too? Like… what? She wasn’t even talking about books—she was talking about the link in my bio. 

Stop. You’re overthinking. Again.

Fine. I’ll keep it simple. 

you: And what if that link had a virus? People on the internet nowadays aren’t trustworthy yk.

There. Short. Simple. Straightforward. No chance of sounding weird. Right? 

Wait. What if she thinks I’m serious? What if she thinks I’m out here spreading viruses online? What if she reports me? 

Or worse, what if she doesn’t think I’m a criminal but decides I’m too weird to talk to? What if she thinks I’m untrustworthy just because I brought it up? 

Stop it, Nini. You’re spiraling. Again. 

This. This is why I don’t do relationships. Or at least one of the many reasons. I’m a whole mess, and I’ve got so much to figure out before I can even think about liking someone. So all of this? It’s just social anxiety. It has to be. 

Half an hour passes, and instead of obsessing over my inbox, I grab my book. I need to lose myself somewhere else. Anywhere else. 

It works. 

For the rest of the day, I get lost in a magical world where problems like mine don’t exist—or, if they do, the characters handle them with way more grace than I ever could. 

And for a little while, I almost forget about the message. Almost. 

Until my phone buzzes. 

xxx: I meannnnn YEAH ITS POSSIBLE BUT you seemed so friendly from your bio and I am a sucker for friendly types.

I’m a friendly type. 

She’s a sucker for friendly types. 

Is that… flirting? 

Why do I suddenly want to run laps around the house and laugh like a maniac? 

Nope. Not happening. She said “friendly.” FRIEND-ly. We’ll be friends. 

I might have made my first international friend. 

At least she doesn’t think I’m weird. 

Yet. 

Because I’m a friendly type. 

And she’s a sucker for me—friendly types. 

Ugh. I’m fighting the urge to screenshot this.