Chapter 6: Aftermath

The next day, after sobering up, I remembered my drunken stunt and smacked my head in regret.

I opened Facebook Messenger and stared at Rachel’s chat window for ages, agonizing over whether to apologize. I typed out a bunch of different versions—“Sorry I was out of line last night,” “Hey, did I do something dumb?”—then deleted them all and gave up.

In the end, I chickened out. If she remembered, I’d apologize. If she forgot, I’d just play dumb.

I knew it wasn’t right, but sober me didn’t have the guts to confess.

I was on edge all morning, but Rachel never said a word to me. She probably blacked out and forgot.

I breathed a sigh of relief and forced myself to relax.

Soon after, my cousin called.

“Dude, come to The Blue Note and pretend to be my boyfriend. I’ll give you fifty bucks if you pull it off.”

I didn’t even hesitate:

“Deal.”

“Dress cool.”

“That’s extra.”

She gritted her teeth. “Fine, add thirty. Just hurry up!”

“On it.”

I did my hair, rushed to the address, played the loving boyfriend, and scared off her admirer. I even held her hand and made up a story about how we met at Target. Her admirer looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.

I went home eighty bucks richer.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss I stole from Rachel.

For days, I was on edge, half expecting Rachel to confront me at any moment.

But half a month passed, and she never contacted me.

She really did forget.

I didn’t dare message her either, so the whole thing just faded away.

I spent the summer at my aunt’s house, sometimes pretending to be my cousin’s boyfriend, sometimes my older cousin’s boyfriend—busy, but making plenty of extra cash.

That money went toward a new pair of sneakers and a season pass to Six Flags. Still, every night before bed, my mind replayed the kiss. I kept wondering—if I’d been sober, would I have had the guts? Or was it just the night and the booze, making me braver than I really was?