Page 78 of Kiss Me, Maybe

I click the link and finally find the source of what everyone’s talking about, andoh 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 thatthis—” 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 spillseverything. 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 loudcrackit 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.

Thirty-Five

The next morning, I text Natalia to let her know what’s going on online, but if anything she seems more determined than ever to help me put on the scavenger hunt. Not that I even know if it can go on at this point. During this time, Briana also texts me to call her, and we have an hour-long conversation over FaceTime.

“Angela, I’m so sorry. I told Esme not to post the picture. I had no idea she was going to go on TikTok—”

“You knew about the picture?”

“I did.” She nods, looking about as remorseful as I’ve ever seen her. Even more than when she apologized to me outside after dinner last weekend. “I saw her take it. I didn’t know what she planned to do with it, but I could’ve guessed. I’ve tried talking to her so many times, but I can’t get through to her.”

“She thinks I’m a liar,” I say. “Which I am, but not for the reasons she thinks. Maybe I should’ve just talked to you guys as soon as I started posting, and then I wouldn’t be in this mess now.”

“Maybe. But maybe not. There’s a reason you were so hesitant to talk to us. You had a gut instinct about the way we would’ve reacted to hearing the truth from you. Maybe it was protecting you.”

Later that night, I think over her words. Maybe Iwastryingto protect myself. Esme’s reaction at dinner last weekend wasn’t a surprise. It was the same cruelty and dismissal as high school, the same disbelief for what she can’t understand. I thought Briana would’ve acted that way too. It feels good to have her on my side for a change, but it can’t erase the damage Esme is causing to my online reputation.

At around three a.m., I break down and wake Julian up so I can use his phone to see what people are saying about me on TikTok. I justified the decision by telling myself I needed to see if the scavenger hunt was still salvageable, but I just end up torturing myself instead.

“You told me you got to meet someone in person who was interested in joining, didn’t you?” Julian reminds me, hair askew from sleeping. “Contact them in the morning and see if they’re still interested. You can explain your side of the internet shitstorm and let them decide how they feel.” It’s a brilliant, reasonable idea, and it stings slightly that it’s the half-asleep one who came up with it.

“You’re only twenty-four. You’re not supposed to be smart yet.” I force a smile and put his phone back on the nightstand. “Fine. You win.”

“Great.” He rolls over. “I’m going back to sleep now.”

After getting a new phone after work (thank god my phone was insured), I avoid the array of missed messages that come in and text Leti to ask if she’s seen what’s been going on online. As I’m waiting for a reply, my thumb hovers over the TikTok app. How many times will I keep torturing myself with other people’s opinions of me? It’s not like knowing what other people think will help me change their minds. I already have aresponse drafted in my notes app. I just need to film and post it, and pray it’ll be enough to clear the air.

My phone lights up with a call before I can torture myself some more. Krystal is calling. At least when I was ignoring her messages last night, I had the excuse of a broken phone to avoid her. There’s no avoiding her now. I hit answer.

“Hey.”

“Angela, I’ve been calling you all night,” she says, sounding anxious. “Are you okay?”

“I broke my phone,” I explain, which is hardly an excuse. I’m not even sure why I spent the night avoiding her. On second thought, I know exactly why. Because I have enough to hurt myself with already without adding my feelings for this woman to the equation. “So I take it you saw my cousin’s video.”

“I can’t believe she would do this to you. This girl’s getting a piece of my mind the next time we cross paths. She better watch her back.”

I make a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Seriously, though. I can come over if you want. We’ll get through this. People online are already questioning Esme’s story and waiting to hear from you before forming an opinion.”

I saw some of that last night. A few of my mutuals stuck up for me, including Leti and @TheGreatAcecape, risking their reputations and outraged comment sections to defend me. Even Will Mora made another video to dispel the story Esme was spreading about us. But rather than make me feel any better, somehow I felt even worse after watching their videos. Because while my cousin had the worst of intentions, part of her video was right. I never told my audience about Krystal, how muchI’ve been falling for her these past few weeks. I never told them about my history of flirting with men for validation, or any personal stories aside from figuring out my identity and lack of a love life. And I surely haven’t told them about the firsts I’ve experienced with Krystal.

I wouldn’t go as far as saying I’ve lied or willingly deceived people but combined with Esme’s video, the truth is far from a good look. After building a following based on being real about my experiences as a late bloomer and coming into my identity, I’ve hidden so much of what’s been going on in my life behind the scenes. No matter how you look at it, I betrayed them. I kept so much from them while I was lying to myself about getting in too deep with Krystal, and I have no one but myself to blame.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admit, cringing at the way my voice wobbles. I’m dangerously close to tears. “I’m a terrible person. This is exactly what Natalia warned me about in the first place. I betrayed thousands of people.”

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