Tiff
Alycia… please tell me you’re not catching feelings for your fake boyfriend.
Maria
Don’t listen to her. Sometimes fake leads to fate.
My eyes sting. I sink onto a barstool, elbows on the counter. They mean well, but they don’t know what it’s like to be seen for the first time and wish you hadn’t been.
It was just one kiss. It doesn’t matter.
Tiff
One kiss is how things start mattering.
Maria
One kiss can change everything.
Tiff
Maria.
Maria
What? I’m right.
I wash my hands just to have something to do. The water’s too hot, scorching my skin, but I don’t turn it down. The pain pulls me back into my body. In the window’s reflection, I barely recognize myself—hair messy, lipstick half gone, eyes wide and wild. I look like someone who’s been kissed awake.
“Get it together,” I whisper.
He won’t call or text. Tomorrow he’ll slip back intowhatever life exists outside that kiss, and I’ll go back to pretending it didn’t matter. It’s easier to rebuild the walls before anyone notices the cracks.
I carry my phone to the couch. Tiff and Maria’s last messages glare back at me.
Tiff
Just promise me you’ll be smart about this.
Maria
Promise me you’ll at least tell us if he kisses you again.
A choked laugh escapes before I can stop it. “God, you two.”
I type something flippant, but my thumb hesitates. The truth presses at the back of my throat. I delete every word and lock the screen. The silence is heavy as I stare at my reflection in the dark glass, trying to breathe past the tightness in my chest. Then, before I can stop myself, I swipe the screen open and scroll toElevator Boy. Just two simpler words that somehow make my pulse skip.
My thumb hovers overdelete contact. One tap and he’s gone. One tap and I rewrite the story before it even begins. But I don’t move. The screen fades to black, and I let it. I lean back, eyes closed, whispering into the quiet, “It meant nothing.”
The words echo back, too fragile to believe. I get up, turn off the lights, and head to my bedroom. By the time I slide beneath the sheets, the quiet has settleddeep in my bones. But when I close my eyes, I still feel the ghost of his mouth against mine. Even in the dark, I can’t stop thinking about the name I couldn’t bring myself to erase.
By the time I pull into the parking lot at work, the ache has dulled into something I can almost pretend isn’t there. Morning light sees too much. My routine was the same—shower, hair, toast, coffee—but everything felt off, like I was moving through someone else’s morning.
Every time I blinked, I saw his face and heard him saysweetheart, like it meant something. I turned the water hotter and scrubbed harder, as if I could wash it off. I didn’t check my phone a million times, and he didn’t text. It shouldn’t matter, but my chest still tightens every time I think about him walking away. I skipped the group chat this morning. Tiff would analyze me to death. Maria would plan the wedding. And if I really wanted to forget, I would’ve deleted his number.
I lock my car and head toward the training facility. The glass doors slide open, flooding the hallway with bright light and the familiar scent of antiseptic and muscle rub. The rhythmic squeak of sneakers echoes from the weight room.
By the time I reach my office, my heartbeat hasalmost steadied. I set my bag down, power up my laptop, and sip my lukewarm coffee. I’ve just opened the new eval forms when a knock rattles the doorframe.
