Two
I t’s really not that bad.”
Marcela is lying through her teeth, and not for the first time this week. When it’s clear from my face that I still don’t believe her, she heaves a sigh.
“At least it’s not as bad as the first video. The chances of Erika pulling you into another meeting are low. She’s not one to police our personal social media usage unless she gets a call from a board member.” She sips her raspberry mojito with a thoughtful look. Her jeans-clad legs are crossed at the knee, and she’s leaning back against a red upholstered chair. “Has anyone you know seen it yet?”
I haven’t told her about my cousins. If I’m being honest, I don’t really want to. Ever since I made the mistake of telling Esme I’d never been kissed back when we were teenagers, anything to do with my cousins has become my greatest source of shame. I know Marcela would never judge me the way my cousins do, but it’s too painful for me to talk about them. If I start crying and Krystal sees from the bar, I’ll die of mortification.
“Not that I know of,” I lie. “And I hope you’re right. I can’t take another half hour of facing Erika’s disappointment.”
“And yet, that didn’t stop you from posting an update video.”
“It’s not a thirst trap!” I pull up the video on my phone and point to myself on the screen. “I’m fully clothed! You see that turtleneck I’m wearing? It hasn’t seen the light of day since at least 2017.”
“Is this going to be a regular occurrence with you?” she asks, her tone as serious as it was back in Erika’s office. “You know I’ll support you if it is, but, Angela… you have to be more careful about what you post.”
“I know. You’re right.” I take an invigorating sip from my drink as I mull over an answer. I have no idea if I plan to keep this up. Hell, I hardly know why I started in the first place. “Would it be so bad if I did keep posting?”
“No,” she says, despite the concern shining in her eyes. “Not if it’s something you feel like you need to do.”
It’s a relief to hear her say that, even if I’m not sure I’m going to keep posting. After the first day’s outpouring of positive comments, I got anxious the tide was about to turn like it did last time and haven’t checked my notifications since. When I tell Marcela as much, she says, “Here, I’ll look for you,” and holds out her hand for my phone. I let out a sigh of relief once it’s out of my hands.
I might still be anxious, but at least I’m not holed up in my bedroom and anxious. My parents were thrilled to see me dressed up at eight p.m. on a Saturday, but I felt like an imposter in skinny jeans and a lace blouse that gives the appearance of more cleavage than I actually have. Before I came out, all it took was a little lean over the counter, a smile for the male bartender, and I wouldn’t have to open my wallet all night. It’s something I’ve worn a thousand times, and I’ve never thought to question it until two months ago when I came out to myself. I don’t feel like that person anymore, but I’m still trying to figure out who I am now. What does the right wardrobe for figuring it out look like?
I soaked up my parents’ compliments the same way I always do and watched as they exchanged conspiratorial glances when I told them I was meeting Marcela, no doubt thinking their little “talk” was the cause of my going out for the first time in a while. Little do they know what the internet has gotten me into.
“Bless you.” I finish off my drink and rise from my seat. “I’m getting another. You good with yours?”
She glances at her drink, which is still three-quarters of the way full, then back up at me with a knowing look. “No need to use me as an excuse to talk to Krystal,” she says with a wink.
I roll my shoulders and give her my best oblivious look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I turn away from her before she has a chance to get another quip in, moving through bodies on my way to the bar. Backlit by a row of red lighting, Krystal spins a bottle of whiskey behind her back before depositing the liquid into four shot glasses lined up on the countertop. Her dark brown hair is tied back with a red bandana, but a riot of curls cascade down one shoulder. When she looks up, her eyes meet mine immediately.
Her mouth forms a crooked grin, and if I hadn’t seen her smile that same way at a hundred other bar patrons, I’d swear it was just for me. Still, I doubt I’m imagining the way her gorgeous brown eyes light up when they lock on me. At least I can say I have that over the regular bar patrons.
“Look what the cat dragged in.” She comes around from behind the bar and wraps an arm around my shoulders in a cordial side hug. I’ve never really considered myself tall, but my five foot five inches is practically giant to her five foot zero inches. Her head is directly under my nose, giving me perfect access to the smell of her coconut shampoo. “I haven’t seen you in a couple months. I was getting worried.”
Not for the first time, I’m grateful for the dim lighting that hides my pink face.
“Oh, you know. I’ve been… busy.” I look away from her, willing my nervous heart to stay still in its cage. Busy reading romance books and worrying my parents over my lack of social activity. No need to let her know how uncool I really am. “Work is busy, grad school is busy. You know how it is.”
“Sure,” she says. “But you’re not too busy for TikTok.”
“What?” My head snaps up. “You saw that?” I’m so shocked, I don’t even know which “that” I’m referring to. Which would be a worse video to come across Krystal’s For You page, my accidental dabbling into thirst-trap territory or my spur-of-the-moment confessional where I detail not only how sick I am of being single, but also that I have zero romantic experience whatsoever?
“Sure did. It’s a bummer you had to delete the first video. You looked hot .” Her grin is teasing. “You’re full of surprises aren’t you, Angel?”
It’s easy for the compliment to go right over my head, mostly because I’m still reeling over the fact that my crush of five years knows I’ve never been kissed. The cheesy nickname helps to soften the recoil, though.
“I’m a little too angelic for my liking.” I groan into my hands. “How are you always a witness to my most embarrassing moments?”
“There’s nothing embarrassing about sharing your experience,” she assures me, and a rush of gratitude fills my chest. “Now, getting drunk and telling the bartender how beautiful her face is, on the other hand—”
“Stop!” I shove at her shoulder, and that teasing grin of hers returns in full force. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
“I should’ve stopped coming here a long time ago,” I grumble. Even through the noisy crowd that surrounds us, she hears every word.
“But you won’t.” She sounds so confident about that. “You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”
Thankfully she doesn’t give me a chance to try and sputter out a response. She walks behind the bar and gets started on my usual. It’s her job to know what her regulars order , I remind myself. That’s the only reason she has mine memorized. She knows Marcela’s order too.
“Malibu sunset.” She hands me a glass once she’s finished pouring. “I’ll update your tab.”
“Thanks.” I take a sip from my drink, hiding my disappointment that our conversation is over so soon. A line formed behind me as we chatted, and now she has to get to them. I take one last glance as she dashes to grab the Tito’s bottle off the shelf before turning to leave.
“Took you long enough,” Marcela says, handing my phone back as I return to our table. “How’s your girl?”
“She’s not my girl.” I shake my head at her, then let out a groan as I recall our conversation. “And she saw the video. Both videos.”
“You’re kidding.” Marcela cringes in solidarity. “That’s rough.”
“Did you see if she commented or followed or anything?”
“I didn’t see her name. I did see that Alice commented with the emoji that goes like—” She mimes her head exploding.
“I miss Alice.” I take another sip. “I don’t have anyone to hang out with on a regular basis anymore now that you’re all booed up.”
“I’m sorry, Angela.” She reaches for my arm and squeezes. “I’ll ditch Theo next weekend. We can get lunch or something.”
“No, no.” I wave her off, and the immediate objection that follows. “Don’t ditch him. I’m just feeling extra sad and lonely lately. You know it’s bad when I’m turning to the internet for companionship.”
“You do seem to have a love-hate relationship with TikTok. At least this time there were more positive comments than negative ones,” she says. “There has to be someone else we can befriend.”
“Maybe.” It’s not a bad idea, but making new friends as an adult is almost as hard as dating. The other library assistants are so much older than us, and the three aides we have are all in college. I’m almost tempted to ask Erika to hang out outside of work, but I can only imagine how awkward drinking with my boss would be, no matter how much I like her.
One dramatic sigh later, I go for another sip only to find my glass empty. I give Marcela a knowing look, waggling my brows at her. She lets out an exasperated sigh only someone who’s known me for a decade could make.
“Again, Angela? Really?”
“You’re right, okay? I’m obsessed,” I tell her as I get up from my seat. “Obsessed and unashamed!” I call over my shoulder. She casts me an amused look and shakes her head.
“Back again.” Krystal is less busy this time around, no signs of the earlier crowd as she wipes the counter with a rag. She nods at the empty glass in my hand as I approach the bar. “That was fast.”
“I hope you don’t think differently of me after that video,” I blurt, probably because I’ve become something of a lightweight in my old age. I can’t handle my alcohol the way I could a few years ago. “I didn’t expect that many people to see it. It was just supposed to be a one-off thing after deleting the accidental thirst-trap video, you know?”
“You brought up the idea of dating the internet as a one-off?” She raises a brow at me.
“It’s just talk. As if dating the entire sapphic internet is plausible.” I let out a huff. “I didn’t actually mean any of it.”
“Are you sure?” she asks as she pours grenadine into a fresh glass. “I thought it was brave of you to put yourself out there like that.”
“Really?”
She nods as she slides a new drink across the counter. I take a careful sip, ignoring her burning gaze until I can’t take it anymore. “Brave in a good way?”
“I never took you for high-strung.” Krystal laughs at whatever offended expression is on my face. “You’re kinda cute when you’re stressed.”
“I’m not high-strung. It’s much worse than that,” I say gravely. “It’s TikToker’s remorse.”
“Come on, Angela. The way I see it, you put yourself out there for a reason.” She rests her chin in her hand and levels a thoughtful look at me. “What were you hoping to get out of it?”
I consider her question for a moment. What was I hoping to get out of posting that video? I already knew I wasn’t the only person my age lacking in romantic experience. I’ve found plenty of videos online of other people like me sharing their experience—or rather, their inexperience . Videos I’ve bookmarked, saved, and even commented on a handful of times.
“I think I’ve been hiding.” This is a fourth drink kind of revelation, and yet I haven’t even started my third. I thought I knew what would happen if everyone knew the truth. They’d treat me the way my cousins did, with disbelief and cruel jokes and disdain. Pressure me into doing something about it until I gave in, the way I almost did my senior year of high school.
When I have my first kiss, I want it to be on my own terms. I want it to be what I want, not what anyone else wants. I’ve been holding on to some of these firsts for so long because I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Others I held on to just to spite my cousins and ended up spiting myself instead. Holding myself back from opportunities I’ve always dreamed of experiencing.
“You know, a couple months back, I saw this other girl on TikTok who had never been kissed,” Krystal starts, pushing a stray curl behind her shoulder. I almost miss what she’s saying because I’m too distracted, daydreaming about doing just that. Of reaching out, curling my fingers around her hair, pushing it back from her face. “She was so busy focusing on other stuff up until she turned twenty-four and realized she’d been putting her love life on the back burner. So, she had a couple guys apply to be her first kiss and picked the best candidate.”
“Apply?” I ask. “What, like a job ?”
“With a Google Form.” She smirks. “It worked for her. I think she may have even asked for references.”
“That’s so unromantic,” I scoff. “There’s nothing special about a Google Form. It’s so… clinical .”
“I think it’s kinda sweet.” I let out another scoff, and she laughs this time. “People put too much pressure on themselves when it comes to this stuff. She got her first kiss the way she wanted. There’s something commendable about that.”
“That may be true, but ‘sweet’ is not the word I’d use. I don’t want to put my first kiss on a checklist. That’s the last way I would ever imagine being kissed for the first time.”
“You may have a point there.” She laughs. “Plus, you’d probably want it to be with someone you know rather than a stranger.”
I’m about to agree, but then I think about it. “Actually, I don’t think that part bothers me as much.”
“Really?” She looks at me curiously.
“If they’re not a stranger, chances are they’re a friend and that comes with its own set of problems. If I meet someone at a bar, they’re still a stranger before I decide to go on a date with them. But dating apps?” I shudder from the mere thought.
“That’s a resounding no, huh?” Krystal crosses her arms over her chest. “What’s so bad about them?”
“It’s like the girl with the Google Form. At the end of the day, you’re just choosing between the least offensive matches.”
“I never thought about it that way. But if you’re on them long enough, they can turn you into a cynic. Believe me.”
“I’m not a cynic, and I’ve never used a dating app. But I’m not gonna start now just because I’m desperate to be kissed for the first time.”
As soon as the words are out, I know they’re a mistake. Krystal’s mouth quirks up, eyes glittering. Heat crawls up my cheeks, my entire face, truth be told, the longer she looks at me like that, but I refuse to back down.
“Yeah, I said it. I’m desperate to be kissed . So what?” I try to shrug nonchalantly, and if my shoulders weren’t so stiff, it would’ve worked. “You would be, too, if you’d gone twenty-seven years without having the ever-living shit kissed out of you.”
“I didn’t say a thing, but it was low-hanging fruit, anyway.” She chuckles. “So, no dating apps and no Google Forms. Got it. What would you have done instead if you were her?”
I tap my nails on the glass, thinking. When an idea pops into my head, an excited gasp leaves my lips. Krystal leans toward me, intrigued. “I’d turn it into a scavenger hunt.”
Her brows scrunch together. “Explain.”
“A scavenger hunt where each clue would be centered around aspects of my personality. The last would lead directly to me, and it’d be something like…” I purse my lips, thinking. “Find me in a house painted blue, where the smell of aging paper envelops you and books line every wall.”
“Cheever’s,” she guesses right away.
I fight the smile threatening to take up my entire face. “Maybe that one was too easy.”
“So the first person to solve all the clues wins… you?” Her smirk turns sly.
“That’s the general idea.” I nod. “Or at the very least, the honor of becoming my first kiss. Ideally, whoever wins would be someone I’m most compatible with. If we have the same interests, they’re bound to solve the clues quicker. If the kiss is any good, we could start dating?”
“Is that a question?” She grins so I know she’s teasing. “That’s… not a bad idea.”
A noise that sounds suspiciously like a huff leaves my lips. “And here I thought you’d be impressed. I just came up with this on the spot, you know.”
“I am.” Her smirk is nothing short of amused. “You are very impressive.”
Her tone is dry, but that doesn’t stop me from taking it as the compliment it is.
“Totally better than a Google Form, right?”
“You got me there.” She laughs. “But how would you get people to participate? Would you use your newfound viral fame?”
Before I can answer, a group behind me waves for her attention. She tells me to hold that thought as she pours them drinks. It didn’t occur to me that my having gone viral—twice—could ever be useful, but I might have enough engagement to pull something like that off.
“Sorry about that,” she says as she returns. “Where’d we leave off?”
The ways to spread the word are endless. My video could be a stepping stone to something bigger. If I filmed the entire process, made it into a series, would people keep watching?
“Angela?”
I snap my head up, but I’m still only half present. “Sorry. I was just… thinking.”
She stares at me for a moment, expression unreadable.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “So, a scavenger hunt, huh? You should do it. If anyone could pull that kind of thing off, it’s you.”
“I don’t know.” But even as I say the words, a buzz of excitement zings through my veins. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited about something, much less the possibility of dating. “Maybe.”
It’s certainly a possibility to consider, which is more than I had yesterday.
“I thought I lost you.” I’m snapped out of my thoughts by a hand on my shoulder. When I turn around, Marcela’s face comes into view. “It’s getting late. Are you ready to head out?”
I nod at her, downing my last drink of the night. “Let’s go.”
We wave goodbye to Krystal after catching her eye. She returns the gesture, that same Cheshire cat grin pinned perfectly in place, aimed directly at me. I aim mine back at her, because two can play this game.