Page 29 of Kiss Me, Maybe

I don’t say anything, not wanting to be another one of those people talkingather. But I don’t understand how she can believe love isn’t for her while actively helping me find it with someone else. All I can do is nod and bite my tongue, holding back any sort of reply that would tell her differently. No matter how much I may want to.

Thirteen

The DM I’m waiting for arrives the next morning.

@Stephanie:Why don’t you swing by this weekend if you’re free? I’m sure Natalia would love to meet you. Just let me know when you can make it.

We go back and forth about when a good time would be to meet today, and then she sends me an address.

I’m going to meet Natalia Aguilar today.

“Tell me again why this artist is so important?” Julian asks on the road. He’d insisted on driving us when he found out Krystal and I were meeting an “internet stranger.” “Can’t you just do the scavenger hunt without her? You don’t even have the rest of it planned out yet.”

“For one, I want everyone to know that my asexual identity means just as much to me as my lesbian identity,” I explain to him. “I read a couple of interviews Natalia did back when she was first gaining popularity. She talked about how she’dget comments on social media that her identity was ‘made up,’ or that she was using it as an excuse to profit off the art she was creating with queer themes.”

“The call is coming from inside the house,” Krystal says from the back seat.

“Exactly.” I nod. “It’s like the handful of comments I still get on a regular basis. There are people who genuinely think I’m lying about never being kissed, who get so pissed every time I say I’m asexual. The other day, someone said it was because I’m afraid to call myself a lesbian with my full chest. That I need some kind of buffer between myself and the word. Others just think I’m a special snowflake.”

“I’m sorry, Angela.” Julian glances over with a frown.

“I could replace Natalia’s work with something else that still tells people I don’t give a fuck whether they believe asexuality exists or not. The problem is I wouldn’t know where to start, and I can bet my entire savings account that nothing will be able to move me like Natalia’s art.” I shake my head. “There’s also…”

“What?” Krystal asks when I trail off.

I have this absurd fantasy in my head of what it would be like to befriend her. Us hanging out, talking about our identities together and not worrying that she isn’t going to know what I’m talking about, or that she won’t be able to understand me. The same way I can talk to other aces online, except she’shere. In the same city as me, where we can meet to go get coffee and talk to each other face-to-face, on a human level, without a screen between us.

It’s too tempting not to at least try.

“Let’s just see what they have to say,” I tell them. “Stephanie reached out to me for a reason. Maybe they already have some ideas for how to incorporate Natalia’s work in the scavenger hunt. If the vibe is off, we’ll leave and you’ll never hear me bemoaning the loss of the mural ever again.”

Krystal nods when I turn to look at her, but Julian’s expression doesn’t change. Not even when he says, “She could be a serial killer for all we know. Yeah, online she’s supposedly this great artist, but maybe that’s just a cover for the murder house we’re about to walk into.”

I roll my eyes at Julian’s assessment, but it’s not lost on me that I could be completely delusional here. What do I really know about this person aside from how her art makes me feel? And is that enough foundation to build a friendship on, or is this a parasocial mess waiting to happen?

“She lives in a studio apartment,” Krystal adds from the back seat. “And I’ve met her before. Didn’t get any killer vibes from her.”

“None you could pick up on, at least,” Julian says. “But how much can you really learn about someone from one meeting?”

On that morbid note, Julian pulls into the parking lot of an old apartment building and stops the car a yard away. The building doesn’t look much different from the Google street view I’d looked up earlier.

“This is it.” Julian turns to me with a dry smile. “Try not to get killed. That’ll be super awkward to explain to your parents.”

“As usual, your support is unparalleled.” I send him a sugary grin before opening the passenger side door. “Here we go.”

“If you’re not back in twenty minutes, I’m calling the cops.”

“No interest in coming with us on the off-chance Nataliaisa serial killer?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Here I thought you were playing the part of white knight in insisting you tag along.”

“What’s knight-ier than calling the authorities from the safety of the parking lot?” He rests a lazy arm against the steering wheel, flipping his phone in his hand. “There’s no hope for you if I’m in that apartment when she’s on her killing spree. I’ve got your back.”

“A yard away from the building, you have our back,” I deadpan. “Sure, Jules.”

“So, we’re agreed.” He smirks. “Have fun.”

In a couple of strides we reach the stairs, climb up the steps, and arrive outside apartment number 215. I’m bracing to knock when my mind blanks out.

“Do you know what you’re going to say?” Krystal asks.

---