Page 7 of Kiss Me, Maybe

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—couldever 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.

Three

CAPTION:

HOW I REALIZED I’M AN ASEXUAL LESBIAN

Replying to @Alisha’s comment

I’m also 27 and haven’t dated anyone! I have no idea if I’m asexual tho. How did you realize you were?

@ANGELA CLOSED CAPTIONS:On some level, growing up, I always knew I was different from my straight friends and family members. Yeah, I found some guys cute, but I never wanted to kiss or date any of them. When it came to girls, there was a lot of mental gymnastics going on in my mind to “explain away the gay,” so to speak. It didn’t occur to me until I was older that it maybe wasn’t straight to imagine romantic dates or holding hands with other girls.

As far as being ace, I’ve found it really hard to explain my identity without falling into TMI territory,so bear with me. I once heard someone say that sex for aces happens almost exclusively in our heads, and it’s like a lightbulb went off. Then I read a passage inLovelessby Alice Oseman that echoed the same thought. For me, what that means is I’ve never been actively turned on by another person, even someone I’ve had a crush on, or had sexual fantasies that includemein them. But I have had fantasies and I do have a sex drive; it’s just not activated by a desire to have sex with a specific person, if that makes sense.

So when you put together my history of romantic attraction to women and femme presenting people with my lack of sexual attraction, you get something like me: an asexual lesbian.

The first week of February, my parents leave for San Juan. Julian arrives the week after.

I almost don’t recognize him when I answer the door. His black hair is a bit overlong and curls against the collar of his T-shirt and a thick layer of scruff covers his cheeks. The bags under his eyes and dirty sweats tell me he’s been through it. I tilt my head before letting him through the door, not used to him looking anything other than clean-shaven and put together.

“Is that a hot Cheeto stain?”

He cracks a grin as he swats my hand away from the red patch on his shoulder. “Nice to see you again, too, cousin.”

“No prima? What happened to your Duolingo streak?” Iruffle his hair as he passes by me with a duffel bag. “And while we’re at it, when’s the last time you got a haircut?”

“That stupid green owl needed to die. If that means I’m a no sabo kid till I die, then so be it. And I’m a broke college student. You think I have money for haircuts?”

“Is that what this new look of yours is? Broke college kid couture?” When he avoids my gaze, something nags at me. “Are you doing okay, Julian?”

I meant it when I called him my favorite cousin, though maybe that’s not saying much. He’s the only one who never made fun of me when Briana and Esme found out I’d never been kissed. While they cackled behind their hands as they told the rest of our family, Julian was the one who found me crying in the guest bathroom. To comfort me, he confessed that he’d never been kissed either. Though it hadn’t meant much coming from a preteen, it was still nice to hear.

Maybe that’s why it’s hard for me to see him as anything other than that thirteen-year-old kid. It kills me that he felt the need to strike out on his own when his father refused to accept his identity. Lots of kids his age work through college, but I hate to think that he cut himself off from accepting help from anyone else in the family because of what his father said.

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