Page 81 of Kiss Me, Maybe

“He’s this close to caving, so I think you will,” I tell him. “Do you and Mom know when you’re coming back yet?”

“That’s why I’m calling,” he says, and I glance up from the mirror. “We’ll be back next week.”

“So soon? That’s great!” I smile to myself at the news. I’ve missed my parents—it’s been weird spending any amount of time at the house without them.

“Don’t tell Antonia’s girls. I don’t want word getting around yet, and Antonia told me you saw them recently.”

Oh shit.

“You heard about Briana and Esme crashing, huh?” I haven’t told my parents about the TikTok videos I’ve been making. The one blessing about them being away for a few months is it’s easier to hide all the trouble I’ve recently gotten into from them. “What did Tía Antonia say?”

“For starters, that you’re seeing someone you haven’t told us about.” His tone is teasing, and I know I’m in for it now. “You don’t keep secrets from us, mija. Why haven’t you mentioned her to us yet? It’s embarrassing to hear about your daughter’s girlfriend from someone else.”

“Oh my god, she’s not my girlfriend!” I groan. “She’s… she’s just—”

We’re not friends.

My last words to her haunt me. And then, as if I’ve summoned her, my phone vibrates with two incoming messages from Krystal.

Met with Isaac yesterday.

Can we talk?

My heart beats out of my chest. I don’t know if I should be nervous or excited about this. If I’ve learned anything from living vicariously through my friends’ relationships and romance books, it’s that acan we talktext is rarely followed by something good.

“Listen, I’ve gotta go,” I tell my dad. “I’ll call you later.”

He gives me some trouble at first, but once we hang up, I finish getting ready and head out. I’m so rattled by Krystal’stext that I don’t notice I’m twenty minutes early until I’m in the parking lot outside the library. Oh well. At least I can bother Marcela while she’s working until it’s time to clock in.

“You’re soearly. And your hair is short!” Marcela brightens at her desk as I walk in. Once she notices my storm-cloud mood, however, her brows furrow. “What’s wrong?”

“What does it mean?” I ignore her question and shove my phone in her face. She glances down at Krystal’s text and winces.

“Angela, it’s too early in the day to jump-scare me with acan we talktext.” She does a full-body shiver in her chair. “How’d you leave the last conversation you guys had?”

“I might’ve let it slip that I’m falling for her.”

Marcela’s mouth falls open. “Oh, Angela.”

“And then I sort of hung up on her immediately after.” I cover my face with my hands. “She’s about to let me down easy, isn’t she? I didn’t let her a few days ago, and now she wants to meet up so there’s no possible way for the message to get misconstrued.”

“Why do you assume she’s letting you down easy?”

“Uh, hello? Have you not been paying attention?” I glance back at the door behind me. Any minute now, Erika’s going to emerge from her office and exile me to the break room until it’s time to clock in. “She doesn’t believe she’s capable of love, and I practically told her I’m in love with her.”

“Just because she’s not there yet doesn’t mean she’s going to reject you,” Marcela tells me. “She met with her ex to get closure, right? Maybe part of the closure she got was realizing that what she once believed about herself is no longer true.”

“That’s what I hoped would happen.” I sigh at the full cartof returns. “I have to clock in soon and check these in.”

“Do some at your computer.” Marcela helps me sort some piles to take to my cluttered desk. “Listen, don’t assume the worst before you know the facts. Krystal could surprise you.”

“Maybe.” But I’m not so sure. Now that my online reputation is tarnished, I’m getting used to catastrophizing before daring to hope for a positive outcome. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Do you really love her?” Marcela asks.

I let out a long sigh. It’s a good question. One I’m not entirely sure I can answer yet. The more I got to know Krystal, the more my feelings for her grew. But it hasn’t always been as happy and amazing as people make it seem. It’s been painful too. Anxiety inducing. Living with this constant fear of getting hurt, of having the rug pulled from underneath my feet when I least expect it.

“What do I know about love?” I ask instead. “Romantic love, anyway. How do I know I love her if I’ve never been in love before?”

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