Wow, I think. That's a lot of notifications.
And then I think: Shit, I overslept.
Not that it matters, exactly, but I still groan and roll over, one arm flung out and falling through empty space, landing on Charlotte's side of the bed. Just one more night, I remind myself, one more night and then tomorrow she'll be back.
I yawn, stretching out and kicking the covers halfway down the bed, wriggling up onto the pillows and grabbing my phone again. I clear the notifications from my lock screen – I'll look through them properly on my computer later.
I've got a bunch of messages on WhatsApp, which does surprise me. One of the group chats must've kicked off this morning.
I also, more worryingly, have a ton of missed calls from Jack.
Grimacing, my stomach churning as I wonder what the hell is so wrong that he's calling me, I take my phone with me to the kitchen, setting the kettle on. I call him back as I reach for Charlotte's mug, barely taking hold of it this time before I remember and let it go, just getting my own mug instead.
"Ethan, finally. I've been calling you for like an hour. Where the hell have you been?"
"Sleeping," I say, my voice sounding thick and irritable. I knock my glasses out of the way to rub my eyes. "It's like, eleven o'clock. It's not that late."
It's pretty late, even by my freelancing schedule.
"Dude," Jack says, his voice so deadly serious it makes me feel cold.
"What's going on? Is it your dad?"
Jack's dad had been in and out of hospital for the past six months with heart problems, and I'm not really sure this whole 'pandemic' thing is the low-stress environment they've been trying to maintain for him.
"Nah it's not my dad," he says, "but we've got bigger problems. Or at least, you have. Have you checked your phone yet today?"
"Not really. Oh, shit, please don't tell me I've, like, been cancelled for my opinions on Minecraft."
"I think it's worse than that, mate. Just... go check your computer."
I forget about making myself a cup of tea and hurry to the living room, clicking the computer back to life. It pings with emails and more notifications, and I don't think I've ever seen that number on the YouTube bell so high...
I wrack my brain, trying to think what in the hell is going on. I don't think I said anything that controversial in today's video or on the stream last night... I don't use Twitter enough for someone to have unearthed a Tweet from me from like, 2012, saying something rude...
Maybe I retweeted someone I didn't know was problematic?
Maybe I liked a video from someone who's been cancelled?
I put Jack on speakerphone and put him next to the keyboard. My hands shake as I load my channel, and I think I might throw up.
Immediately, I know something's wrong.
My subscriber count is up by seven thousand since last night.
So I'm not being cancelled, but...
And then I see it.
Right there, in pride of place at the top of my channel, my most recent upload, posted at nine o'clock this morning.
'Dear Charlotte'
"Oh, fuck," I whisper, loud enough that Jack hears it through the phone.
"You seen it?"
It's a miracle I can even click the video open, my hands are shaking that much. It's the thumbnail I made last night, the description for the video I'd planned... And then the video starts to play: me in yesterday's grey t-shirt and green flannel shirt, my hair a mess...
I hold out hope. Please, please, please, say I just named the file wrong because I had it on my mind, please, please...
But the me in the video says, "Dear Charlotte," and I see it's almost an hour long, and I die inside.
I hit pause and collapse over the desk. "Fuuuuuuuuck."
"You saw it, huh?" Jack says. He's sympathetic, sorry, and he sighs. "Judging by the thumbnail and stuff, and the fact that you edited none of this, I'm guessing you really didn't mean to upload this. Which is what everyone else thinks, too, in the comment section. It's viral on Twitter, too, you know. There's a Buzzfeed article about it already and everything. You're gonna be the new face of quarantine romance."
"This isn't happening," I groan. I keep my eyes squeezed shut and fist my hands tightly in my hair. "This is a fever dream, or I'm just still drunk. That's it, I'm drunk. I'm going to go back to bed, and when I wake up again, this won't be happening."
"I'm sorry, buddy."
I moan. It turns into a weird noise that's part laugh, part sobbing.
"Is it too late to take it down?" I ask.
"You tell me. You're the expert. Take a look at that view count, Ethan."
Grudgingly, I peel my head up, cracking open one eye to take a look.
It's at half a million views. I cringe and refresh the page. Another forty-odd thousand gets added to the view count.
I hate everything.
I want the world to swallow me whole.
My chest is tight and I'm on the verge of vomiting, and I'm sweating through my pyjamas.
"You think she's seen it?" I croak.
Jack's hesitation to answer that question is answer enough.
"Fuck," I say again. "I can't believe this. I can't believe I was so stupid. I was uploading it after the Twitch stream last night and... Oh, my God. I hate myself so much. She's going to hate me. This is the worst."
"Since when were you planning on proposing, anyway? I thought you'd have told me something like that, mate. This isn't the cabin fever talking, is it? Like, you don't think this is just you going a little stir-crazy or anything?"
"Did you watch the video, Jack?"
"I watched the highlights. It was you talking about how head over heels in love with your girlfriend you are, for an hour – so, no, I didn't watch it all."
"I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her."
"Well, good luck telling her that, after you told the rest of the world first."
I cringe. "I've gotta call her, haven't I?"
"Yes, you do, buddy. Let me know how it goes, okay?"
I groan in pure, utter despair in response, and Jack laughs before hanging up on me. I stare into space a few seconds longer, knowing there is no pulling this back now, and how humiliating it all is, before snatching up my phone again and calling Charlotte.
It goes straight to voicemail.
I call her again.
And again.
After the eleventh time, I call Laura.
The first time, it rings out, but the second time, she answers.
I barely even say 'hi' before I'm subjected to her laughing down the phone at me for eight minutes straight, quoting the worst bits of my video back at me before bursting into giggles again.
"I mean," she wheezes, "you actually said, you wanted to marry her because of that time you both got the flu and she threw up on you. Do you know how goddamn weird that is, Ethan?"
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Dude, the whole world knows what you meant. You love her even having been around her in that kind of state. It's just a weird goddamn thing to say when you're trying to propose, you know? Like, you really... you really thought..."
She's laughing too hard again for me to get a straight sentence out of her.
"Laura," I say, kneading my forehead with my knuckles, and really glad I didn't FaceTime her to have to see her laughing at me like this, too. "Where is she? She's not answering her phone."
Laura takes a few gasping breaths, finally clearing her throat and telling me in a haughty voice, "She said she needed some time to think. She's gone out."
"Out? Out where? Everywhere is shut."
"Just out. Look, Ethan, I'm sure you'll hear from her later, okay? It'll be alright."
"Yeah, I'll believe that when you stop laughing at me."
I turn off all my notifications, except for calls. When she's ready to talk to me, she'll call. Probably when she gets in and finds out I haven't even taken the video down yet.
(I will, but right now, I can't bring myself to even open the page back up long enough to delete it.)
In the meantime, I bury myself in my old uni hoodie, the hood up and the strings pulled tight around my face, lying face-down on the sofa and slowly dying of the mortification. What does it even matter if I take the video down now? There's Tweets about it. Snippets that have been re-posted online. A damn Buzzfeed article. Everyone we know will have circulated it and I dread the next event we go to with mutual friends who will all be talking about it, and none of them are ever going to let me live it down.
It was supposed to be perfect.
I was going to figure it all out, but now...
What's the goddamn point? I've ruined everything.
It must be a couple of hours before I hear something outside. It sounds like someone yelling, and someone else shouting back at them to shut up.
I don't pay it much attention, until I hear them shout, undeniably, "Mad Man Maddox, get your cute butt out here!"
No.
No.
Oh my God.
I lurch off the sofa so fast that I fall on my face, smacking my head on the floor and crying out. That's gonna bruise...
I half scramble, half crawl, towards the balcony doors, throwing myself at them and dragging them open, falling against the railing and knocking one of Charlotte's spider plants off. There's a high-pitched yelp and the pot smashes on the ground. I don't even stop to worry about it, though, too busy leaning over and blinking in shock.
I can't believe my eyes.
I mean, really. I actually take off my glasses and wipe them on my hoodie, jamming them back onto my face so frantically I just get new finger-smudges on them.
"Is it really you?" I shout down, still not believing it. This whole day has been like some warped fever dream – why shouldn't this be, too?
Charlotte beams up at me and I've never been so glad we only live one floor up. She's far enough down that I can't see the hazel specks glittering in her eyes, but I can see her freckles. Her hair is wavy, not quite as tame as normal, pushed back from her face by her giant sunglasses. She's wearing a sundress that must be Laura's, because I don't recognise it, and her denim jacket. She's wearing the boots she wore when we first met.
"It's me!" she hollers, bouncing up on her toes. She braces one hand against her sunglasses and uses the other to wave up at me.
"What are you doing here?"
"I saw your video! Did you mean it, Ethan? Did you really mean all those things you said?"
I don't even hesitate to think about it before I open my mouth to reply.
Someone else interrupts before I finish getting the first syllable out though, shouting from the main entrance, "Miss, I'm not going to tell you again. You can't be here if it's not essential."
"This is essential, you miserable bum!" Charlotte snaps at the guy, and then grimaces. "Sorry, Mr Harris, I didn't mean to call you a bum, or miserable. I promise I'll go in a minute, I know I can't stay."
He grumbles, and someone else from upstairs yells, "What's going on? What's the shouting?"
Charlotte cups her hands around her mouth, craning her head back to shout a few floors further up, "Do you mind? My boyfriend kind of just proposed to me online and I'm locked out of the building!"
A girl from even higher up yells, "Wait, are you Charlotte like Charlotte in the video?"
A different one squeals and shrieks, "No way! Addison, Luce, get out here, it's the couple from that video!"
"Shut up!" a guy shouts. "Let them talk! Isla, get out here, come see this!"
My face is burning, and I'm glad I can't see anybody else on the other balconies right now. Charlotte's face is pink and flushed, too, but she's got this great big, stupid grin on her face and giggles when she looks back at me.
She's waiting for an answer.
"I forgot what you said," I admit.
"Did you mean it?" she repeats herself. "All those things you said in your video? Is that really how you feel about me?"
I don't remember most of what I said in the video, to be quite honest, but I do know I meant every word. So I yell back down to her –
"Yes! All of it!"
"Then yes!" she shouts up to me, jumping again.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I'll marry you, you moron! I love you!"
"I love you too!" I shout, but I'm not even sure she can hear me over the chorus of cheers and excitable shrieks that erupt from all the other balconies on this side of the building. A cascade of rose petals flutter down from one of the flats above. A couple of them land in Charlotte's hair and she giggles at them, blowing a kiss to whoever threw them and then looking at me with a smile so big, so goddamn ecstatic, it melts my heart.
She said yes.
She – said – yes.
Awww! Honestly, I think this part was the most fun to write... especially this end scene! Hope you guys enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing - be sure to comment and let me know!
AND, to answer everyone's burning question...
NO, THE STORY IS NOT OVER YET.
I'll be back in two weeks on Tuesday 9th June with one final part to wrap everyone's stories up. Part 6 will be coming to you in five chapters - each one following the main character of all the stories so far, as the lockdown on the building comes to an end. Let me know who you're most excited to see more of!
A massive thank you again to all of you who have been showing so much love for the book these last five weeks. It has been such a joy to read all of your comments.
Make sure to follow me on social media (handles above!) for more, and also make sure you subscribe to my YouTube channel - youtube.com/c/BethReekles - where I've got several vlogs coming up in the next couple of weeks about writing advice, including dealing with questions like 'Should I post my book on Wattpad?'
That's about enough from me, though. Thanks again everyone - and see you in two weeks!