Page 82 of Kiss Me, Maybe

“I don’t think romantic love is all that different from other kinds of love,” Marcela says. “It’s not a feeling. It’s a choice.”

“What do you mean?” I ask her. “Is that how you feel about Theo?”

Before she can reply, Erika’s office door opens.

“Angela.” Her tone is grave, and a sinking feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. “My office.”

I exchange a look with Marcela, but she seems just as surprised as me. Once I cross the threshold, Erika tells me to close the door, which is how I know whatever she has to say to me can’t possibly be good.

“Am I in trouble?” I ask her. “I haven’t made any more thirst traps if that’s what this is about.” Not any that can be misconstrued as inappropriate anyway.

“You’redatingthe internet?” She raises a brow at me.

Fucking hell.

“Right…” I swallow, hard. “About that…”

“There is only so much inappropriate internet behavior I can defend to the board,” she says, rubbing her temples. “Here’s what’s going to happen—”

“Oh no.” My eyes sting with the sudden onslaught of tears. “I’m fired for sure this time, aren’t I?”

“Of course not.” Erika shakes her head. “At most, the board wants you to shut down your TikTok but I called discrimination and managed to talk them down from that.”

I blink up at her. “You did?”

“These are the videos the board would like you to delete.” Erika hands me a paper. I’m expecting the list to be a lot longer than it is, but I’m surprised that only three videos are listed. My initial scavenger hunt video, as well as my application to be your internet girlfriend parts one and two. “And it goes without saying that any future videos of you… offering yourself to the internet will result in consequences a lot less lenient than this.”

“Offering myself?” My brows crease until I realize what she’s talking about. “Do you mean the scavenger hunt?”

“As one board member put it, this isn’t a season ofThe Bachelorette.” She shakes her head. “I would’ve loved to have seen how it turned out, but I’m afraid the board isn’t having it.”

“So, that’s it, then.” An entire week of crunching, of getting Natalia on board and making sure I still had people willing toparticipate, all for nothing. At this point, I’m not sure what I feel. Bummed? Relieved? It’s almost laughable that I’m slapped with this news at what feels like the very last moment.

I spend the rest of the morning focused on checking in returned items and other tasks. It’s my hour for the circulation desk when I realize I forgot to text Krystal back. I stare down at my phone, racking my brain for a reply, when the glass doors whoosh open and I no longer need one, because she’s walking in. I hate how good she looks, with her hair tied at the back of her head in a high ponytail, her face clear and open and glowing. She spots me at the front desk immediately.

“Hey,” she says as she reaches me, hands in the pockets of her baggy jeans. I zero in on the sliver of skin peeking out between her crop top and the waistline of her pants, evoking memories of when I’ve seen her in less. “Did you get my text?”

“I did.” I finally have the common sense to tear my eyes away from her exposed skin and look up at her face, but it doesn’t do me any better. She bites down on her bottom lip and fidgets with the bracelet on her wrist.She’s nervous.Is it because of me, or what she has to say to me? I was already nervous about texting her back, but now I’m not sure how I feel. Somewhere between anxious, horny, confused, and unbearably sad, all mixed into a giant ball of…yearning.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to reply.” I look away from her face when staring becomes too painful. “It’s been… busy.”

She looks over her shoulder to scan the empty library. Other than her there’s only one patron inside, an older man with today’s newspaper checked out. Mr. Johnson is napping in the armchair by the windows, the paper splayed over hisface to block the light. She turns back to me with a raised brow.

“What time do you get off for lunch?” she asks instead of commenting on my obvious lie. “I’ll buy this time.”

“I brought my lunch from home,” I say, and of all things, it’s the stupidest excuse I could’ve come up with, and not even a true one. “It’ll go to waste if I don’t eat it today. Plus, I have some coursework to catch up on.” That at least is partially true, but I only have two finals left to complete before the end of the semester and plenty of time, even with all the scavenger hunt madness that’s been going on.

“If you’re trying to avoid me, you could at least do me the favor of coming up with a better excuse.” Of course she sees right through me. She always has. “I want to talk to you.”

As if the universe is set on my humiliation and demise, another assistant librarian emerges from the back and dismisses me for my lunch break. With a sigh, I head to the back and tell Marcela we’ll talk later, then meet Krystal by the entrance. One thing is abundantly clear after yesterday—we’re not friends, and we can’t continue pretending we are.

A weight settles over me as I climb into her car. As much as this conversation is needed, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. My online safe haven has been disrupted and the scavenger hunt is DOA for the last time. The community I’ve spent the past few months cultivating is in tatters and I have no idea if it’ll ever be the same again. The same way I have no idea if Krystal and I will ever be the same.

Very soon, our relationship to each other is going to change. I’m just afraid it’ll be for the worse. That after today, we’ll benothing at all. I’ve already lost so much this week. How much more can I stand to lose?

Thirty-Eight

We’re quiet in the car. I spend half the drive wondering if I should rip the Band-Aid off and ask about how her meeting with Isaac went or wait until we’re at the restaurant. In the end, curiosity wins out. “How was seeing Isaac again?”

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