Chapter 2: When Fantasy Meets Reality

After three months of online dating with the wild king, he suggested we meet up in real life.

I happily agreed.

I was buzzing all morning, double-checking my makeup in the dorm mirror, texting my best friend for pep talks. Meeting someone IRL after months behind a screen is its own kind of adrenaline rush—like waiting for your SAT scores and the homecoming dance to happen on the same day.

In front of McDonald's, I stared at the little boy standing in front of me, lost in thought.

He was dressed in a tiny blazer, his hair slicked back like he was headed to a wedding. He’d clearly made an effort to look sharp.

The sight was almost comical—a pint-sized Wall Street prodigy, nervously shifting from foot to foot, cheeks pink with excitement. The golden arches buzzed behind him, the smell of fries and ketchup packets mixing with the sticky sweetness of spilled Sprite on the plastic table. It took everything in me not to burst out laughing or bolt in the opposite direction.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide the unmistakable innocence of an elementary school kid.

Right now, the little guy was clutching a cheeseburger, happily munching away.

I steadied myself and cautiously asked, "How old are you?"

He put down his burger, pulled out a napkin, and wiped the corner of his mouth.

"Sis, I’m ten."

The corner of my mouth twitched.

An 88-rank jungler.

Just ten years old.

How was he talking about life goals and philosophy with me?

I forced a dry laugh, picked up my Sprite, and took a sip, questioning all my life choices.

A cold fizz burned my throat. I stared at my straw like it had all the answers, wondering if I’d wandered onto the set of a hidden camera show.

"Hey, do you think I’m lame just ‘cause I’m a kid?"

He leaned on the table, resting his chin in his hands, gazing at me with big, glistening eyes, his tone earnest.

So cute.

I just wanted to ruffle his hair. (Honestly, who wouldn’t?)

But you have to be careful not to hurt a child’s fragile heart, so I changed the subject.

I reached for the fries, pretending to study the nutritional facts. "It’s not that. I’m just curious how you managed that deep, mature voice. You’re pretty precocious."

He immediately looked a bit guilty and avoided my eyes.

"I used a voice changer."

Suddenly, everything made sense.

I was so frustrated I could cry.

A perfectly good online romance—how did it end up feeling like I was luring a minor?

I glanced at my reflection in the window—carefully done makeup, a sundress floating around me.

I was practically dizzy, seeing stars.

The sunlight glinted off my lip gloss. For a split second, I considered faking a phone call and running for the hills. But instead, I just stared, willing myself to stay present.

When I noticed he was nearly done eating, I got up to pay at the counter.

Before I could even pull out my phone, the little boy came running over, huffing and puffing, and whipped out a black credit card.

"Sis, my mom says a man should never let a girl pay. This one’s on me."

If he weren’t a minor, I might’ve been genuinely touched by how boyfriend-like that sounded.

He held the card up like he’d just won the lottery, chin tilted with pride. The cashier looked at me and grinned, as if we were both in on a joke that the little guy hadn’t caught.

We spent the whole day together, wandering around, having a blast.

We played every arcade game in sight, split a funnel cake, and took selfies with the Ronald McDonald statue. When he started talking about Fortnite and Roblox, I awkwardly tried to keep up—something about battle passes and emotes, and I nodded along like I totally got it. He showed me a secret handshake—slap, fist bump, pinky twist—that he swore only the coolest friends got to learn. I almost forgot about the age gap until the sun started to dip and reality caught up.