Chapter 2: Viral Crush, Awkward Rush

Right as I was about to type back, bam—a classmate ran over and bumped my hand.

My phone jolted, and before I could react, my thumb landed on the wrong spot. It was like the universe had pressed pause on my entire vibe.

Just like that, my finger uncontrollably tapped the "Exit Listen Together" button in the top right.

The song in my headphones stopped abruptly, and so did my heart.

The sudden silence was deafening. I yanked out an AirPod, staring at my phone in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening.

Because we hadn’t even revealed our real identities yet, and by quitting like that, I could never find him again. Just like that, he was gone.

It felt like I’d just hung up on the universe’s best prank call. I wanted to rewind, but there was no way back.

I could have died…

The urge to throw my phone across the room was real. But all I could do was flop back onto my bed and groan.

"Ah! Why did my hand have to shake!"

This was the Nth time today I howled in my dorm room.

My roommate, probably used to my dramatic outbursts by now, just rolled her eyes. And honestly? This one deserved it.

And the reason, of course, was still that fleeting encounter with my Spotify listener.

I kept replaying the whole thing in my mind—his jokes, the playful banter, the what-ifs. It was like my brain couldn’t let go.

When I checked the record, I found the distance between us was only 2 miles. That’s basically campus distance.

My heart did a little flip. Two miles? That’s campus distance. He could be in the next building, for all I knew.

Now I was even more unwilling to let it go, but except for a totally unhelpful avatar and the distance, Spotify gave no useful info.

I squinted at his generic profile pic, hoping for some hidden clue, but nada. Spotify’s privacy settings were airtight. No mutual friends, no hints, just a digital dead end. Figures.

At that moment, my roommate put down her half-eaten Doritos, came over, and knocked me on the head.

She did it with the kind of fond exasperation only a best friend can muster. Classic roommate move.

"Usually for something like this, we just go with Applebee’s Confession Wall."

In our college, Applebee’s wasn’t just for cheap wings—it was where all the juiciest campus confessions went down. The Confession Wall was legendary for matchmaking, memes, and the occasional love story.

She grabbed my phone, quickly operated it, and helped me add someone called—Maple Heights University Confession Page.

Honestly, she was a pro at this. She moved with the efficiency of someone who’s done this a hundred times. I barely had time to protest as she typed away.

Then I saw the message my roommate sent:

Applebee’s Confession Wall, help! Girl on Spotify (claims to be 38/divorced/2 kids) looking for guy on Spotify (claims to be 70/2 grandkids). We need to meet!

My jaw dropped. "You did not just post that!" I squeaked, feeling my face flush all over again.

She just shrugged. "It’ll go viral. Trust me, you’ll thank me later."

And then, of course, it blew up.

[You two are a perfect match, I’ll definitely help you find him!]

The comments section exploded with laughing emojis and jokes about campus soulmates. I wanted to crawl under my bed and hide for the rest of the semester.

Looking at the screen full of "hahaha," I felt like I was dying of embarrassment all over again. Kill me now.

But there was no turning back. My story was out there for the whole campus to see. I was officially the girl with the wildest Spotify meet-cute.

Nothing to do but wait.

I kept refreshing my notifications, heart pounding. My phone buzzed so much it nearly fell off my desk. Total chaos.

I thought I’d be anxious for a long time.

But not even a night passed.

No, not even a few minutes.

Unexpectedly, while I was searching for my lucky listener, he was also searching for me. So chill.

He played it cool, dropping just enough hints for me to recognize him without blowing his cover. I admired his subtlety.

Of course, we recognized each other right away. Adding him was smooth as could be.

I barely hesitated before sending the request. My hands shook a little as I waited for him to accept.

He accepted right away, and we immediately started chatting.

Wild. It felt like opening a door to a whole new world. His messages came quick and witty, the same playful energy as before.

Most people, after adding someone, would definitely check out each other’s Instagram stories first, and I was no exception.

I scrolled through his highlights, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. What if he was nothing like I imagined?

I opened the listener’s page.

He was a real treasure—not only did he not set his posts to private, he’d posted lots of photos.

His feed was full of candid shots—sunsets over the quad, group pics at football games, goofy selfies with friends. It felt like peeking into someone’s real life. It felt... real.

White T-shirt, jeans, delicate features.

A handsome guy!

He had that clean-cut, all-American look. The kind of guy who’d help you move a couch or bring you coffee during finals week.

And I really liked this kind of boy—full of youthful energy.

There was something about his smile, the easy confidence in his photos. It made my heart flutter in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

While I was drooling over his photos, he sent me a message: a Listen Together link.

[Hey, I’m Mason O’Connor. Can you listen to music now? We didn’t finish Bohemian Rhapsody this morning. Want to finish it together?]

His message had a casual charm, but I could sense the underlying excitement. I grinned, feeling a little thrill zip through me. Was this really happening?

Yes! Absolutely yes!