I got home and locked the door behind me like I was trying to keep the kiss from following me inside.
Shoes off. Bag dropped. I stood in the middle of my living room like I'd just walked into someone else's life.
My lips still tingled. My waist still remembered the feel of his hand.
I wanted to scream. Or sleep. Or teleport back in time and slap my mouth before it betrayed me.
Instead, I grabbed my phone and did what any sane woman in emotional chaos would do: I FaceTimed Sophie.
She picked up after two rings, her hair in a pineapple bun and a half-eaten cookie hanging from her mouth.
"Hey, babe! Wait, lemme" chomp "Okay, what's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost."
"I kissed Mr. Michael."
There was a beat of silence. Then
"OH MY GOD!"
I winced as her voice shrieked so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear.
"Office. Romance? Are you serious right now?! Girl, I've been manifesting some drama, but this?!
THIS?! You kissed your boss?!"
"Keep your voice down!" I hissed, even though I was very much alone.
"And I didn't plan to kiss him, he kissed me!"
"And you kissed him back," she said dramatically, leaning into the camera like a detective solving a scandal.
"Admit it."
"I... okay fine! I did!" I flopped onto the couch with a groan, covering my face with one hand.
"It just... happened. It felt like I was kissing Joe for a second. But then... it didn't.
It was Michael. And his hand was on my waist, and his lips, oh God, Sophie, his lips were warm."
"Stop!" she gasped. "I am living. My drama-deprived heart is eating this up like popcorn.
Wait, were the blinds open? Could anyone see?!"
"I DON'T KNOW!" I wailed. "It was after hours. The office was empty. I think. I hope. Ugh!"
She was laughing now, full-on cackling. "My friend's in a K-drama and didn't even know it.
Tell me, was it slow motion? Did time stop? Did violins start playing in the background?"
"Stop romanticizing this!" I said, throwing a throw pillow at the air like it was her face.
"I'm confused, Sophie! I still miss Joe. I'm mad at him, but I miss his stupid smirk and his hugs and the way he pulls me in like I belong there."
"Aww," she cooed, "you softie."
"And now," I continued, burying my face into the pillow, "Michael goes and kisses me like a scene straight out of a forbidden romance novel, and I—I felt it.
Sophie, I felt it. It was like my body was set on fire."
"You little minx," she said with a teasing grin. "Look at you! Torn between two hotties.
It's giving Netflix original series."
"I can't face him tomorrow!" I said miserably. "How am I supposed to just… walk into work like nothing happened?!"
"Easy," Sophie said, smug now. "Wear red lipstick and pretend it never happened.
Then casually mention you're seeing someone. Confuse him right back."
"I kissed him, Sophie. I kissed him back.
This isn't some hallway" accidental brush of hands. Our mouths did Olympic synchronized swimming together!"
Sophie burst into laughter, clutching her sides".
"You're too much."
"I wish I could rewind. Or fast-forward. I don't know which is worse.
That I kissed Michael, or that I liked it."
"Okay, breathe. Let's unpack this," she said, sitting up straighter like a therapist.
"First of all, feelings are messy.
You've been emotionally wrung out by Joe," you're healing, and then boom",
Michael shows up with his fancy watch, perfectly rolled-up sleeves, and cologne that smells like sin and spreadsheets".
"Exactly," I muttered. "It's not fair."
"And second," she continued, "you're human. A beautiful, kissable human. So stop beating yourself up."
I sighed. "You're the best. Even though you're currently enabling my downward spiral with snacks and sass."
"You're welcome," she said with a wink, lifting her cookie like a toast.
"Now get some rest, and tomorrow, you walk into that office like you own the building.
You got this."
"And if I kiss someone else at work, please stage an intervention."
"Noted," she said. "And recorded. And saved for blackmail."
We both laughed, the kind that's half therapy and half surrender to life's absolute chaos.
I ended the call feeling lighter… still a mess, but with a friend like Sophie, even the mess felt manageable.
The Night Before
After I ended the call with Sophie, silence wrapped itself around the room like a thick blanket.
The laughter had faded, the jokes quieted, and now all that remained was the sound of my thoughts, loud, restless, and stubborn.
I changed into my softest nightwear, a cotton set I usually wore on nights I needed comfort more than style.
As I brushed my hair, the mirror reflected a face I almost didn't recognize, eyes still wide from shock, lips slightly parted as if still remembering the kiss.
Michael's kiss.
My body remembered, too. The way his hand curved around my waist, firm but not possessive.
The heat of his lips. The way my heart had stuttered and then sprinted.
I had kissed him back.
And for a moment… I liked it.
But just under that memory was Joe, his scent, his smirk, the way he always touched the small of my back when we walked together.
His betrayal still sat in my chest like something unfinished. I missed him more than I wanted to admit.
I climbed into bed, pulling the covers over me like a shield.
The city outside whispered, car horns, distant laughter, the hum of late-night life still unfolding.
I closed my eyes and tried to will my thoughts into order.
Tomorrow, I'd have to face Michael again.
What would I say?
Would he pretend nothing happened?
Would I?
Would he kiss me again?
And if he did… would I stop him this time?
I turned to the side, the sheets cool against my skin. My heart thudded unevenly.
My mind kept replaying the moment over and over, the surprise, the warmth, the way reality crashed in like a wave.
I whispered into the dark, "What am I doing?"
But there was no answer.
Just the soft hum of my fan and the ache of longing I couldn't name.
I went to sleep with too many questions and no answers, wondering what tomorrow would hold…
and who, in the end, I'd be strong enough to choose.