Chapter 5
How I stayed calm after that happened, I had no earthly idea. Did I still have some sort of schoolgirl crush on Ansel Barlowe, even after all this time?
Sure, who wouldn’t?
Was a warmth pooling low in my stomach and causing my heart to flip around in my chest.
It wasn’t a bad kiss!
This was stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.
If I could travel back in time and tell fourteen-year-old Juniper that I’d be sucking face with Ansel Fucking Barlowe, I probably would have dropped dead.
I’d said goodbye, dismissed myself from his gaze and his scrutiny and presence. As I exited the convention center, my fingers grazed over my lips, trying so hard not to relive that kiss.
It was fake. It was just a little scam to get some ex off of his back.
But god, it was good.
Now, as I meandered around the parking garage — I’d forgotten where I’d parked — my phone rang.
Lara is calling…
Shit.
“Hey bud,” I answered with a smile, hoping my internal cringe wasn’t readable over the phone.
“Are you fucking kidding me? ‘Hey bud?’ That’s how you’re going to answer the phone right now?” Their voice bordered on panicked. “Talk. Now.”
“I’m super sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But I did.
Oh, but I did.
“Sure, sure, sure.” They laughed on the other end. “It’s just every day your best friend kisses Ansel fucking Barlowe and doesn’t tell!”
My heart dropped into my stomach; it was a wonder my phone didn’t slip out of my hand. I knew what they were talking about… but to hear it?
“Haha, yeah…” I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. “Whoops?”
“No. Nope. No way. You’re not whoops-ing your way out of this. Spill.”
“I will, I will,” I said as I slid into my car. “How did you know, though?”
“Girl,” another laugh. “You’re all over the internet right now. I’ll text it to you.”
My phone buzzed less than a minute later, and as I switched Lara to speaker and opened the link, my jaw dropped.
BARLOWE SEEN KISSING UNKNOWN WOMAN AT SEATTLE COMIC CONVENTION. IS LOVE IN HIS FUTURE?
“Lara, please. This is such a clickbait site!”
“That doesn’t change the fact that in that picture is your curly hair and your ridiculous episode two t-shirt that you’ve had for over a decade. You’re the only person who still has that shirt, bitch!”
I cringed again, before diving into the absolutely insane story… The bar, the taxi, the napkin and the number… up until his ‘like’ on my comment and me blacking out and entering my card number for a day ticket to the convention.
“Holy shit,” they breathed on the other end. “And he just… kissed you?”
“It was crazy, Lara.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been flirting with Ansel Barlowe for several days and I didn’t know! Have you told Jess or Mikayla?”
“No, I wasn’t going to tell you!”
“That breaks like… every rule of friendship we’ve ever had, June. What’s wrong with you?” I could tell there was an air of teasing in their voice, but I did feel a little guilty.
The four of us — Lara, Jess, Mikayla, and I — had been friends for years.
We connected online over a mutual love of ‘Battle for the Cosmos’, and for years the franchise was the sole pillar that held our friendships together.
But we’d been young, and there is something so special about growing up with a group of friends that have seen the very worst of you.
And I mean… ‘monster smut fan-fiction’ worst of you, and stuck around. These three were my people. And to keep something like this from them… something that all of our fourteen-year-old selves would have shit themselves over… it felt bad.
“I’ll tell everyone soon,” I conceded, turning my key in the ignition. “I promise.”
“I don’t think you’re going to have to, jerk.” They laughed on the other end. “But it’s your funeral, kid. Catch you later,” and hung up.
As I shifted into drive, I couldn’t help but feel like my stomach was going to fall out of my ass. I debated pinching myself just to see if this was some sort of fucked-up dream that I would wake up from soon.
I swallowed the urge, not wanting to give in to the compulsion. This was real. I was awake and alive, and I was documented kissing Ansel Barlowe, former heartthrob.
Holy shit.