Page 16 of Kiss Me, Maybe
CAPTION:
APPLICATION TO BE YOUR INTERNET GIRLFRIEND PART 2
@ANGELA CLOSED CAPTIONS:If you were to come across my profile on a dating app, it would probably read something like this: Hi, I’m Angela. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old asexual lesbian who’s never been kissed, let alone been in a serious relationship of any kind. My interests include obsessing over obscure art pieces graffitied on the sides of downtown buildings, reading YA fantasy and historical romance books, and spending way too much time on the internet.
I’m looking for someone kind, smart, and funny, who’s not afraid of a little adventure. Dream dates include going to coffee shops and ordering coffee and dessert flights so we can share a little of everything, touring museums to interpret the art pieces in the mostwildly and completely inaccurate ways that will surely make the original artists cringe if they heard us, and spending an entire day browsing every bookstore in the city.
If I sound like your kind of girl, let me know!
COMMENTS:
@LetiIsTrying:You already know you’re my kind of girl (;
@Nikki:Your dream dates are my dream dates too!
@Alisha:Rooting for you to find someone great! Gives me hope that there’s a chance for me too (:
In an effort to avoid talking the group chat situation to death, a few hours after posting my last video I stuff my current read into my bag, grab my keys, and then I’m out the door with hardly a goodbye to Julian. I don’t make any promises to talk to Briana and Esme, but I do tell him I’ll think about it. So here I am at a sports bar, reading yet another historical romance, thinking about it despite trying desperately to put the situation out of my mind.
Extravert though I may be, this isn’t the first time I’ve brought a book to a bar. Unlike Havana Bar, the place has TVs on every corner displaying sports games I don’t care about and an outdoor seating area on its second floor. I didn’t botherchanging from my sweatshirt and leggings, but I’m not out of place here. Everyone’s in jeans and casual wear.
Two chapters later, a waitress appears to deposit sweet potato fries and a Malibu sunrise in front of me. I should be at peace. I’m reading a great book with my favorite drink in hand and an eight-dollar basket of fries that’s worth every penny for the dip it comes with alone. But I’m not, and it has everything to do with Briana’s last text.
I’m confused by your video, and why you left the group chat. What happened to that summer fling you told me and Esme about the summer before college? Or all the free drinks and numbers you get when we’ve gone out with you? This doesn’t make sense to me… Just tell us what’s going on? We’re…
The message cuts off from there, and I’m too chickenshit to read the rest without replying back or leaving her on read and risking another text from her. After my colossal lie, the three of us formed a surface-level closeness. We used to hang out a couple weekends a month, never talking about anything too personal or serious. Certainly not anything that mattered, for fear that they would stomp all over my vulnerability a second time.
Not once have I ever considered coming clean about the lie or coming out as an ace lesbian to them. They’re not homophobic like their mom and Julian’s dad and other older members of our family are. They’ve always been on Julian’s side the way myparents and I have. I have other reasons not to trust them, and it’s all to do with our messy high school history.
After polishing off the fries, I check the time on my phone. I’ve been here for about two hours, but I’m not ready to head back yet. If I’d brought my Kindle, I could continue reading outside until closing. As it is, I’ll be lucky to finish the chapter I’m on before the sun fully sets, taking with it my only reading light. I let out a sigh and place the book down, face up, as I clean up my table.
A gust of wind pushes the napkins off my table, and I have to duck under to grab them, lest the staff think I’m a litterer. When I stand back up, my book is missing.Shit.How do I notice the trash being blown off my table and not my book?
I’m scanning the ground for any sign of the mass market, my focus fully concentrated on the act that I practically jump out of my skin at a tap on my shoulder.
“Whoa, Angel.” Her voice is as familiar as the nickname. “Hey, it’s just me.”
What is Krystal doing here?
Her hair is down with nothing pushing it back from her face. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen her like this. A riot of curls with a mind of their own, the wind making the edges brush my face. Somehow, she’s even more beautiful like this—soft tendrils falling past her shoulders, a bright pink hoodie and light-wash jeans that hug her curves. The edges of her mouth curl up until dimples appear on both sides of her cheeks.
“Krystal. Wow. Hey.” I’m so scatterbrained from seeing her, I don’t notice the book in her hand until she’s holding it out forme. “Thank you.” I take the proffered mass market, ignoring the way my blood sings when our fingers brush.
“Regency, huh?” She tilts her head at me. “I think my mom has this book.”
“Your mom has good taste.” I mark my place before hugging the paperback to my chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Hanging out with some coworkers.” She points to her table, where a few vaguely familiar faces sit. I never did learn any of their names, only Krystal’s. “What about you? Are you with anyone?”
“Umm, no. Just me and my book.” I glance up at the darkening sky. “But that’s my cue to leave.”
“Do you have to go so soon?” she asks, and I try to parse out the request in the simple question. No, I don’t, actually. Julian has a late shift tonight, so he won’t be home when I get back. Even then, he’ll either go straight to sleep or plan out lessons for next week. And besides, if I’m being honest, getting the chance to hang out with Krystal outside of her workplace appeals to me on a level I’d rather not admit to.
I shrug, dripping nonchalance. “I can be persuaded to stay a bit longer.”
“With another Malibu sunset, I bet.” She laughs. “As long as I don’t have to make it, that can be arranged.”
“I’d never make you work on your day off.”
