Page 45 of Kiss Me, Maybe

“Okay,” she says, but if anything she looks more confused than ever. “If I crossed a line tonight, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you.”

“It’s not that,” I assure her. “I don’t regret anything we did. If there’s anything you don’t need to be sorry about, it’s that.”

“What do I need to be sorry for, then?” she asks. “Tell me.”

Fuck it. We’ve come this far. What’ll it hurt for her to know the truth?

“If we’re not calling what we did ‘practice,’ then we’re calling it ‘casual,’” I finally say. “Is that a fair assumption?”

“I guess,” she says. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not for some people. But for me… yeah.” I let out a sigh. “There is. Flirting is one thing. It’s banter. Getting to know each other without strings. I’ve done it all my life and never felt a thing.” Except with Krystal and to a degree, Leti. “But I don’t think I can be a casual sex kind of person. What we did together—that’s not something I can do with just anyone. Notbecause I’m graysexual. Not because it was my first sexual experience. But because Iknowme.” Because I knowher, just like I knowcasualis something I’ll never be able to do with her. “I love what you did for me, Krystal. It’s not meaningless to me.”

“It wasn’t meaningless to me either, Angela,” she says, her voice so low I can barely make out the words. “It meant something to me too.”

I can’t describe what her words do to me. The balm they provide to my battered insides, even if I can sense thebutat the end of that statement from a mile away.

“But you know I’m not good at this,” she continues. “I told you all about how my last relationship went. I don’t have it in me to go through that again.”

“I figured you might say something like that.” I shake my head. “I’m not going to push you into something you’re not ready for. I just wish that you could give yourself more grace.”

“You’re the only one who says that kind of stuff to me.” She huffs a laugh. “I gotta admit, it’s nice to have someone on my side for once.”

“Anytime.” I smile sadly at her.

“I don’t think ‘casual’ is the right word for us either,” she says after a beat. “Can’t there be something in between? You started planning the scavenger hunt to dip your toes into the dating pool. You said yourself that you’re not expecting to find the real thing right away. The purpose was to get a feel for dating, to have fun. I guess I just don’t understand why I can’t be that for you instead.”

Of course the difference isn’t clear to her. But I’m fully aware that this persistent crush I’ve had on her for years hasnever gone away. If anything, it’s spiraled so far beyond my control I may never get a hold on my feelings for this woman. We’re beyond casual, beyond whatever in-between Krystal is asking for, but there’s no way forward for us to go. Not with all her reservations and my yearning for so much more than she’s willing to give.

“Maybe I lied,” I say instead, a version of the truth I’ve kept to myself until now. “Maybe I purposely kept my expectations low because I was too scared to hope for more. I don’t wantfun. I want the real thing. That’s what I want more than anything, okay? I’m not even sure I really believe in soulmates, or true love, or the one, but maybe I do believe inmyone, you know? Maybe it’s stupid to think I could be that lucky, to think it could ever possibly happen for me on the first try, but that’s what I want.”

It’s a subtle shift, the way her expression changes. Her shoulders straighten as she turns away from me, something in her face closing shut behind a locked door. We are two different people. One wanting, one waiting. Though what Natalia thought Krystal was waiting for, I have no clue. It’s more like she’s stalled herself. Frozen, too afraid to move. To breathe. Tolive, even. If we continue down this path, that’s what will hurt me in the end. The fear holding her back from even trying.

“It’s dumb, I know.” I wipe at the rogue tears that have fallen down my cheeks. “Ever since I came out, I’ve tried to tell myself I don’t need a partner. I don’t need romance or sex or any of the other bullshit I’ve been programmed my whole goddamn life to think I need because it’s what everyone else wants for themselves. Like maybe it makes me less ace to want all ofthat for myself too. What my parents have. What Marcela and Theo have.”

“It’s not dumb.” I’m not sure how much I believe her when she can’t even look at me.

“Right.” I let out a sigh. “I guess I’m just sick of being left behind all the time, you know? It’s lonely not being able to relate to anyone. Like maybe there’s something wrong with me, even though I know now that’s not true. But it’s hard to believe when I don’t have anyone in my life to relate to. It’s…”

We don’t want you to be lonely.

“It fucking sucks.”

“Angel, no one’s leaving you behind.” She grips my hand again, resisting this time when I try to pull away from her. “You’re not alone. You’renot, okay? I’m here. Your friends are still here.”

“Friend,” I amend with a sniff. “I really only have Marcela now, and even with her it feels like I only have half of her because of Theo.”

“So, bring him into the circle,” she says, as if it’s that easy. “Julian too. Don’t shut them out just because you think they don’t need you. In my experience, being in a committed relationship can be more lonely than not being in one. I mean, look at me now. I lost most of my friendships when Isaac and I broke up. I’m lucky my coworkers still like me, but that’s only because we can’t get rid of each other.

“It’s funny.” She huffs out a humorless laugh. “You think growing up means settling down. Getting married and starting a family. That’s the only option we’re given, isn’t it? You said it yourself—it’s what we’re programmed to believe. Our wholelives are built around one end goal, but it’s not one-size-fits-all. That kind of life isn’t for everyone, and it shouldn’t have to be.”

“Yeah,” I agree over a fresh wave of tears. “It shouldn’t be. And it shouldn’t be this hard to go against the grain either. To wonder if what I want isreallywhat I want, or just what other people want for me.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, wiping a tear beneath my eye with the pad of her thumb. “I get that. You have no idea how much I get that.”

“I’m sorry for crying.” I pull away from her when a thin layer of snot threatens to leak past my nostrils. “You don’t have any tissues in here, do you?”

She opens a compartment and pulls out a small, unopened pack of tissues. I tear through the packaging and blow my nose with the first one I grab, hoping I don’t look too disgusting doing it.

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