Big thanks to Mel, Monica, May and Ciara as always for their help.

If you voted for me in any of the twificfandom award catogeries, thank you so much. I appreciate it beyond words.❤ Voting begins later today (I think) for round 2!

Updates for this will be sporadic, I've got a lot going on so apologies, writing time is limited (boo).

Masen

I shower. I spray on deodorant. I adjust the beanie on my head and make sure my room is clean-ish, and then play with my MacBook screen until the camera's at an angle that doesn't show the damp patch on the wall behind me. And then I have to wait. Long, torturous minutes crawl by, and I find myself pacing and going over things in my notebook—questions I might want to ask Bella—ideas for a Q&A...

And then I start to wonder what the big deal is.

It's not like she's even going to be able to smell me, for fuck's sake.

It's just a meeting. But I want to make a good impression.

By the time I input the code she's sent and joined the meeting, she's already there. There's one AirPod in her right ear, and she's looking down at something, so all I can see is her forehead, up close and personal.

I clear my throat.

"Hey?"

She looks up and sits back in her seat and a slow, pretty smile spreads across her face. Her hand comes up to fiddle with a necklace.

"Hey, you! Masen, right?"

"Uh huh, and you're Bella?"

"That's me."

I smile this time.

"Nice meeting you."

"Likewise."

She leans forward, and it's then that I think her eyes look red rimmed and puffy. She sniffs.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Yeah. Sorry, just allergies." She waves her hand but brings it back to her eye, running a finger under her lower lid.

I'm not sure she's telling the truth, it looks quite obvious to me that she's been crying, but to make her more comfortable I start talking…. about Emmett.

"My roommate's the same. Allergic to dogs. He breaks out in hives."

She chuckles a little.

"Oh no, that's so sad! How does he live?"

"Dangerously. He works for a dog food company."

Her eyes widen and her laugh is belly deep this time. "Oh my God! No way. That's hilarious. For real?"

"Yeah, I mean, the company doesn't even know. He has to endure the office dog on a regular basis. Cracks the Zyrtec out."

I trail off and for a few seconds we're just smiling at each other until she puts her elbows on her desk and clasps her hands together.

"So… an Instagram Live?"

"Mmm." I find myself shifting in my chair, bringing the pen in my hand up and clicking and unclicking the ballpoint in and out. "Do you think it's a good idea?"

"Yes, I do. I'm not just saying that because I suggested it, but collaborations in the social media world work well. Usually, anyway. Did you get a chance to have a look at any of my highlights?"

"Yeah." I watched them all. She looks happy about that too, her eyes brightening.

"What did you think?"

"I really liked the one with Zafrina. And the one with Felix. Both of them were really funny. But…"

"But?"

"I dunno. They had bags of personality and I, um… I don't feel like I have any of that. I don't feel like people would have any interest in what I'm saying. It seems a bit… arrogant to think that."

"That's not true," she tells me earnestly. "You've got this… deadpan sense of humor. It comes across in your videos. Suits your whole vibe."

I laugh.

"What's my vibe?"

She gestures toward me in the camera so her hand looks gigantic and I can see her pastel tipped manicure. "Rebellious? Like, non-mainstream."

"Non-mainstream?" I'm amused, and she seems flustered now, her words coming out in a rush.

"Yeah, with the ink and the tone of your videos… am I wrong to think that?"

"You have a tattoo," I point out. "Does that make you non-mainstream?"

She looks momentarily lost, like she doesn't know how I know that. Now I hurry to not look like some stalker-freak. "I saw it on one of your videos. I couldn't make out what it was though. It doesn't make you alternative just because you have tattoos these days."

"I guess so."

She's still looking lost so I reach out for the common ground we have, pushing.

"What's your tattoo of?"

She looks down at herself and then back at me. "Um. It's a swallow, on my rib cage."

"Nice. Is there a story behind it?"

"Yes… actually." She smiles again, her face softening. "My Gram, she lived in North Carolina, in Wilmington, right by the river, in this big, old, green house. She used to paint from her back porch. Birds mostly. Swallows were her favorite. Took it up as a hobby. She was a big inspiration to me, so when she died last year, it just seemed fitting to get one for her."

Her expression changes when she talks, genuine affection there, and I'm not too sure what to say.

"Always the best kind of tattoo," I agree. "When they're sentimental like that. I'm sorry about your Gram. Ribs, though? Ouch."

She grimaces.

"Yeah, that was a mistake. Don't judge, but I might have cried and had to stop. Twice."

"Hey, I'm not judging. Was it your first?"

"Yeah." She visibly cringes.

"Oh, man."

"Yeah, I know. A mistake! If only I'd chosen the placement to be somewhere a bit fleshy. What about you? Any sentimental ink? I'm guessing you must have."

"A few." I don't feel like going into those too much, though. "My first one was just to piss off my dad, though, so..."

She laughs.

"What did you get?"

I pull at the neck of my shirt and twist my head so she can see it just below my ear. A spider, holding the word 'blessed' in a web.

"What did he do?"

My smile is gone then and I swallow thickly. "He didn't see it for a few weeks. But when he did, he—" grabbed me by the throat… "Told me I was a little punk and I wouldn't get a cent from him until I got it lasered off."

"Oh, wow. How old were you?"

"Seventeen. My dad's pretty uptight like that. Wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Tattoos don't really work in corporate America. Guess I was mad and wanted to show him I was an individual. Sure did that."

"You sure did," she says softly.

I fidget, looking down at my notebook. "So, when should we do this? If we're doing this?"

She clears her throat, and I can hear her clicking around, her eyes drifting to what I assume is a second screen.

"Right. Yeah. So, um… Evenings work best because engagement is higher—people are normally home from work. Not a Friday, as people are out." She tucks hair behind her ear. "Maybe Thursday? Do you want to run through some questions so you know what's coming up? It might make you less nervous if we do that?"

I'm kind of nervous just thinking about it. I look at the calendar on my cell and then shake my head.

"Thursday is Thanksgiving."

"Oh, duh! Silly me. Probably not the optimal day. The Monday after?"

"Okay, Monday the 1st? Sure, what time?"

"Seven here? Ten your time. If we do thirty to forty minutes, or however long you're comfortable with?"

Thirty to forty sounds like a really long time for me to not fuck up. She must read my face, because the next thing she says is,

"It'll fly by, honestly, you won't even realize. And I'm really good at this so I promise I'll steer you in the right direction if you get in any trouble. You're in safe hands."

She wiggles them and I think back to the videos I've watched and it kind of settles the disquiet. She's right. She's good. And confident. And really fucking cute.

"I know," I tell her. "You're really good. Just talking to you now feels like I'm… like I'm talking to a friend. Like, we haven't just started talking today." I backtrack immediately. "That sounds weird."

"No! Not at all. I like that," she says, grinning. "I get that a lot. You know? People feel like they know me, even if I don't know them, because I live my life in this online social sphere. It can be a little weird for me. But that's my choice, I guess. Putting myself out there to be judged. It's a pitfall, you know?"

"How'd you draw the line?"

"It's hard. I'm not sure I have those lines figured out yet, to be honest."

Together we come up with a rough outline of questions. I write down everything, until my hand gets cramped, as we slowly walk through answers. It helps to have it all in front of me, and it let's Bella get to know me more. She's interested in my background, and curious about Maria, and why I don't mention my parents, but I deflect. Like always.

"How long have you been doing this for?" I counter. She pauses and then nods a little to herself and I hope I didn't come across as too standoffish.

"I started when I was seventeen, when I was still in high school," she tells me.

"And you're how old now?"

"Twenty-two. So… I started with a blog in 2014. Didn't make much of an impression on anyone, so the first few years were kind of like... I was in my own echo-chamber. Just rattling along, doing my thing."

I let out a low whistle. I've briefly experienced the same, so I'm impressed she stuck it out for years. I don't think I could, the past few weeks have been torturous enough.

"So I tried YouTube in 2016 once I graduated, in the summer before college—and it kind of snowballed really after a talent management group spotted me. I had a decent following by that point, but nothing huge. Maybe fifteen thousand subscribers? Being featured with other more popular YouTubers really made things speed up in terms of growth. I was lucky, really." She shrugs. "I'm just riding this wave until it reaches the shore. I know it won't last forever so capitalizing now is important."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I mean so much of this industry is about luck, but longevity? I don't know."

"I think you're my lucky break," I tell her honestly.

She laughs. "That's really sweet. I hope I am too. I genuinely mean everything I've said."

"Even about thinking my meat looks amazing?" I smirk a little and she groans, a breathy laugh and a hand over her mouth.

"Oh wow, I really said that." Her hand moves and her cheeks are red and then she whispers a confession. "I crave a burger like you wouldn't believe."

"So why don't you have one?"

She fidgets.

"Because… I've been a vegetarian since I was twelve when I was concerned about animals and the environment—I still am, but yeah. Sometimes I smell bacon or a burger and… crave it. I don't think I would or could actually eat it. There are plenty of alternatives. Jackfruit is my new favorite, but it's still not quite there.."

I hum.

"What?"

"I dunno. Maybe I can come up with something for you?"

"Oh my gosh, I'm not asking you to do that, but at the same time I would LOVE it if you did."

"I'll see what I can do."

She stifles a yawn behind her hand and apologizes. I glance at the time; it's almost twelve thirty in the morning. "Fuck, I didn't realize the time. Did you?"

Her eyes are wide. "Nope, time flies when you're having fun, I guess. I'll let you go to bed, and I'll catch up with you soon, okay? We need to do a few advertisements. I can get my manager to help out with that. She's wicked with Adobe."

"Yeah. Sure, I'll look forward to it. Night, Bella. And thank you, again." I pause. "It really means a lot."

"No problem. Like, at all. It's been fun. Night, Masen."

I sign off with a little wave and for a minute I just sit there in silence, staring at a blank screen. I release a long breath. Impressed, thinking back over our conversation. She's kind of what I expected, yet nothing like it at all.

I can hear Emmett still up in the living room, so I join him, sinking into the sofa as he tosses me a beer.

"What have you been doing?" he asks. "Been hearing you droning on for ages."

"Talking to Bella."

"Talking to Bella-Veggie-ella," he starts singing—rude lyrics to something that kinda sounds like Missy Elliot's "Work It."

I throw a cushion at him.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Please tell me you're not gonna fall in love online like some kind of weirdo. I did that once."

"No." I snort and then. "You met Rose on TikTok."

"Doesn't count. By the way, Carmen was asking about you the other night when we were at Billy's."

I take a sip of my beer and lower it, surprised.

"What did she want?"

"Just asking where you were. You should hit that up. Again."

I think about Carmen. Long, dark hair, her nipples pierced, always heavily made up. Sexy. But it's been a while, and I wasn't really into it. I didn't think she was either.

"Maybe."

"We could still go out?"

I look at the clock on the wall behind by head. It's late. But not too late in a city that doesn't sleep.

"Yeah, okay. If you're buying."