Thirty-Four
L ater that night, I scroll through my newest notifications for a dopamine hit, but it doesn’t do the trick of making me feel any better. If anything, they fill me with a strange sense of dread. It doesn’t feel right going on with the scavenger hunt, even though Krystal gave me her blessing. I also don’t want to disappoint my followers when I’ve already stretched out this series for two months, but is that a good enough reason to go through with it?
That dread only grows bigger when I come across a cryptic video on my For You page. A creator I don’t recognize is angry about something, but that’s no different from any usual day. What’s different this time is they’re talking about someone in the aro/ace community. I haven’t checked my phone all day, so I’m not familiar with any new drama or discourse that’s happening currently.
“You know what I’m sick of?” the creator asks. “I’m sick of constantly being lied to by influencers and content creators. But it’s even worse when it comes from someone in your own community—or who claims to be, anyway.”
I watch the rest of the video with a sinking sensation. They don’t give any context to the situation or even so much as a name, but that’s also not unusual. The creator is going on the assumption that their audience will know who they’re talking about. The dread builds in the center of my chest until my hands are shaking.
Something is wrong.
Two more cryptic videos appear as I’m scrolling before another creator finally gives me some sort of clue as to what’s happening.
“The thing about this whole Angela situation is—”
I sit up immediately upon hearing my name. I don’t register a single word out of their mouth past that. How the hell did I become the aro/ace community’s villain of the day? I return to the last video I posted, wondering if I accidentally said or did something that could be considered problematic or harmful, but it’s just me responding to a commenter’s question about a date for the scavenger hunt.
I open the comment section, and that’s when I really start freaking out.
@Alisha: This is so disappointing. I related to your journey so much and now I feel like a fool for buying it. Esme was right about everything.
@Connor: I knew her story had to be fabricated. No one who looks like her makes it to twenty-seven without being kissed.
@Olivia: Another influencer lying on the internet for clout. What else is new?
“What the hell is happening?” For a moment, I consider deleting the app and calling it a day. Better yet, deleting my entire account. Instead, I return to the For You page to the cryptic video that I now know is about me. But why ? That’s when I spot the search engine question below the video.
What did Angela Gutierrez lie about?
Good question.
I click the link and finally find the source of what everyone’s talking about, and oh my god . The unmistakable face of my cousin stares back at me. Behind Esme is a picture of me and Krystal on the green screen filter.
“I just want everyone to know that this —” She moves her head out of the way until the picture is in clear view. It’s from the disastrous dinner party, after all the fighting at the table and my conversation with Briana outside. My hand is on Krystal’s knee, and the way we’re looking at each other is… enough to make my breath catch. I know myself enough to assume I look at her like the lovestruck fool I am, but the way she’s looking at me is as if she’s just as lovestruck as I am. How have I never seen it until now?
“This is everyone’s favorite TikToker of the moment,” Esme says, using her finger to circle around my face, and then the way Krystal and I are positioned close together on the couch. “You remember, the one claiming to have never kissed anyone, let alone been in love before? Get a good look at her. You can’t tell me these two haven’t hooked up. They’re practically eye-fucking each other and trust me, it was a lot worse in person. Let me tell you a little something about the real Angela Gutierrez.”
The picture behind her head disappears, and then she spills everything. The fabricated summer fling story becomes public knowledge, but it doesn’t end there. My history of flirting with men, the free drinks, getting Jacob fired from Havana Bar—the facade of a human being that comphet turned me into for a large portion of my life. It’s all out there, twisted in the worst way imaginable.
“Holy fuck.” The video was posted a few hours ago and already has thousands of likes and hundreds of comments. I can’t breathe. I can’t think of a way out of this. I open the comment section, then think better of it and throw my phone across the room. The loud crack it makes against the wall has me on alert for an entirely different reason. “ Holy fuck! ”
I dart across the room and grab my phone from the floor. The screen stays black after I press the power button a million times, but maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. I really don’t need to see what people are saying about me online anymore. The situation alone is bad enough.
I knew Esme would never believe me, but I never thought she would betray me like this. A sob crawls its way up from the back of my throat as I think about everyone I’ve let down by falling for Krystal. By not being the person I convinced everyone I was—for the second time in my life.