It wasn't until the day we finally met in person that I realized my online boyfriend was mute.

The boy sat across from me in the dim booth of the local indie coffee shop, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. His face was entirely devoid of color, a stark contrast to the bright, bubbly personality he had displayed over text for the past two months.

He pushed a small blue Post-it note across the wooden table, his eyes darting down, utterly unable to meet my gaze.

I’m sorry to disappoint you...

I didn't answer. I was too busy staring at his face, and the bizarre, glowing text that had suddenly begun drifting across the air right above his head.

“Lmao, Wes is a menace. He literally set up his own twin brother just to get back at Riley.”

“This is wild. He’s playing both the female lead and his own brother like absolute fools.”

I blinked, my brain working quickly to piece together the floating words.

Today was supposed to be the day I finally met my online boyfriend. Over the summer, out of sheer boredom, I’d matched with a guy who was incredibly witty, charming, and easy to talk to. We fell into a comfortable, flirty online relationship. He told me he was transferring to my university in the fall and promised we’d meet up as soon as he arrived. But once orientation week ended, he kept making excuses, dragging his feet every time I suggested getting a drink.

It wasn't until I threatened to block him and move on that he finally agreed to this date.

The floating text continued to scroll across my vision, and the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place.

The "female lead" the comments were referring to was my roommate, Penelope. And the "male lead" was Weston Prescott, the newly transferred star athlete of our university's soccer team—who also happened to be Penelope’s childhood best friend.

The boy sitting in front of me, trembling in his vintage denim jacket, was Weston's identical twin brother, Wyatt.

I didn’t know what minor grievance had driven Penelope to orchestrate this. Maybe it was because right before summer break, I’d snapped at her for leaving her rotting takeout boxes in our shared kitchen. Whatever the reason, her little revenge plot with Weston was laughably pathetic. Did they honestly think matching me with a mute boy would utterly humiliate me?

Looking at the boy across from me, I had to actively press my lips together to keep from laughing out loud.

A mute boyfriend? That was actually perfect. He couldn’t talk back, couldn't argue, and would probably blush at every single thing I said. How incredibly endearing.

My prolonged silence only made him more anxious.

Wyatt slid the blue slip of paper back toward himself, his shoulders slumping. He stood up, his movements stiff and awkward, and offered a small, polite bow of apology before turning to leave.

I reached out and caught his wrist. His skin was warm, his pulse fluttering rapidly under my fingers. He froze, his lips pressed into a tight line, the outer corners of his eyes flushed a soft, bruised pink.

"I’m not disappointed, baby," I murmured, my voice soft. "Why would I ever be disappointed in you?"

He clearly hadn't expected the pet name. A crimson flush bloomed from his collarbone, racing up his neck to the very tips of his ears. Still, he sat back down, completely compliant.

He pulled out his pen, his hands shaking slightly as he wrote on a fresh slip of paper.

Really?

But I can’t speak. I’m sorry.

He kept his head low, sliding the note over, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. I leaned my chin on my hand, smiling at him.

The invisible chat logs above his head erupted.

“Wait, what is she doing? Isn't the rejected girl supposed to scream at him for lying, throw her coffee, and storm out?”

“Yeah, and then she’s supposed to run into the hot, perfectly healthy brother on campus, beg him to notice her, and get publicly humiliated so Penelope can laugh. Why is the script going off the rails?”

Wyatt’s handwriting was beautiful—elegant and precise. He watched my face with a quiet, desperate intensity, as if he expected me to grow disgusted at any second and leave him behind.

I picked up the blue sticky note, folded it neatly into a little origami heart, and slid it back into his palm.

"Hey, boyfriend," I said, my voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Do you actually know what people are supposed to do when they finally meet in person after dating online?"

Wyatt blinked, looking down at the paper heart in his palm. He picked up his pen again.

I looked it up online. It said we should go to a movie...

I sighed softly, reaching across the table to cup his face. His skin was incredibly soft, and up close, his features were breathtaking. My heart did a sudden, violent flip.

Who cared about a movie?