The Bad Boy Computer Programmer At Wattpad

VIDEO CHAT (Amanda's Perspective, Part 2)

**Part two of Amanda's perspective**

Amanda gazed at her monitor as though shouting 'jinx' cast a love spell on her thoughts--a tornado of jitters swirling in her belly. Be rational, she reminded herself. He's fixing your Wattpad account. This isn't a video hookup.

Untangling her finger from her necklace, she couldn't take her eyes off Ian's gaze. There was something about him she was drawn to--a magnetic simplicity she couldn't explain. Simple haircut and button-up shirt. Quiet demeanor and gentleness when he spoke. The intoxicating lure of his subtle charisma. Physical features both unremarkable and absolutely perfect. Why are you doing this to yourself, Amanda? You've been down this road before. You know how it ends. The equation equals divorce. The brilliant mind of a critical thinker doesn't mix well with the creative mind of an unlimited dreamer.

As if knocking a glob of negativity out of her soul, a hand unexpectedly tapped Amanda's back near the shoulder blade.

SCREAM

SCREAM

Amanda jumped out of her seat screaming--arms swinging as though swatting at a swarm of bees. Her chair fell and smacked the ground behind her, perfectly positioned for her to stumble over as she turned to see who touched her shoulder. Falling to the floor on her knees, Amanda winced in pain. Not only were the areas around her kneecaps throbbing, but the image of her alleged attacker was an agonizing sight as well.

Winnie rubbed her whiskers and chin against the leg of the fallen tripod. Amanda's cell phone--aka, the attacker's hand--laid face down on the floor.

"Amanda?" a male voice called from the laptop on the table above. "Amanda, are you okay?"

She whimpered. The situation was so--Amanda. It seemed the harder she tried at anything, the quicker she failed. Dating. Dieting. Writing. A real world social life. Love. If she wanted something too badly, her probability of failure increased. Why does this always happen to me, she cried inwardly while lifting the phone and tripod off the floor. A little luck, maybe? Just once, Cupid?

"Amanda?" the male voice called again.

Adjusting the tripod, Amanda gave her cell phone camera--and friends--a whatdafuckhappened look. With her back to the laptop, she lifted the chair off the floor. A wave of sickness flooded her stomach. Her skin felt clammy. Waving a hand in front of her face, Amanda took a deep breath in hopes of calming her nerves. I can't, she thought. Me--a running joke at Wattpad--for sure. I can't face them.

Reluctantly, Amanda slumped back into her chair mustering every last bit of courage she could find from within. Too embarrassed to look at Ian, her eyes focused on the slew of messages from her friends while her lips said, "I'm sooooo sorry."

[Geri: Your boob is out!]

[Jeannie: ABORT!]

[Jeannie: OMG!!!!! DON'T SIT IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA!]

[Mona: Best. Video chat. EVER!]

[Mona: I can't wait to see his face!]

[Geri: Drop to the floor!]

[Geri: DROP NOW!]

[Geri: Drop! Floor! Fix boob!]

Amanda leaned to the side until she fell out of her chair and hit the floor with a thud. She prayed her heart would leap out of her chest and cause instant death. It was half way there already, her ribcage barely able to contain the pressure of an increased heartrate. And breathing. Amanda couldn't remember how to breathe. Her lungs ached from a lack of oxygen as she patted a hand around her chest.