Pitbabe S2, Chapter 17 pg1

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 17 pg1

   Chapter 17:

   BABE:

   I often realize I’m drunk when everything starts feeling like a dream. Some moments I know it’s real, but a few minutes later, I’m confused again, wondering if it’s reality or a dream. The line between the two realms thins until it’s almost invisible. My body feels feverish, especially my cheeks and ears, burning like I’m pressing my face against a car hood after ten practice laps. One moment I think I’m sitting upright, the next my face nearly kisses the bar, and my head spins. Truth is, I’m usually pretty good at holding my liquor, but maybe because I hadn’t drunk in a while, my tolerance for alcohol had plummeted.

   Willy isn’t a bad listener. Sure, he sometimes teases or asks questions I’d rather avoid, but he’s not the type to ruin a conversation’s vibe. Often, I absorb unexpected insights from him. He probably doesn’t realize what I’ve gleaned from his words, as he just speaks from his feelings and limited worldly experience.

   I’m not sure what happened five seconds ago. Before I knew it, my lips were claimed by someone else’s. At first, it almost felt familiar, but then I realized it was completely different. The rhythm of their lips, the mix of their alcohol-scented breath with the different liquor in my mouth, even the angle of their tilted face—it was distinctly new. I could barely remember a kiss could feel like this. For the past three years, my body and mind had memorized only one person’s kiss, as if it were etched into my soul’s perception.

   As time passed, I grew certain this wasn’t Charlie. It was new taste—not bad, but not good either. The “not good” wasn’t about the kissing skill, but about me, my own sense that what I was doing wasn’t right. I felt like a demon was trying to shatter my peace. No matter how drunk I was, I hadn’t forgotten that Charlie and I had broken up. I’m a single guy now, fully reclaiming my life. I have the right to choose, to move forward. Every option is rightfully mine. But that demon kept whispering in my ear, its soft voice cutting deep into my heart, accusing me of cheating, of being a vile traitor who let another man touch what should belong only to Charlie.

   That’s not true.

   These lips aren’t his treasure—not anymore, at least.

   I tried to tell myself that, but my voice wasn’t loud enough to drown out the demons in my head. My body should be burning from a kiss, but now it feels like it’s burning because I’m walking into hell. I kept imagining what would happen if Charlie walked in right now. Would he be furious? Would he storm over, yank Willy away, punch him in the face, and drag me out of here by the arm? He probably wouldn’t say a word to me the whole ride home, because Charlie always avoids arguing in the car. He’d just drive faster—fast compared to normal road speed, not a racetrack. But once we got home, that’s when Charlie would start talking. His eyes would widen, his hands would gesture wildly, because the anger pent up in his chest would be too much for words alone.

   Charlie would be so jealous, his face flushed with rage. We’d fight fiercely, and in the end, he’d cry.

   Because what he feels more than anger at my infidelity is the pain of me destroying his love. So many times when I mess up, Charlie gets mad at first, but after we fight, he’ll go sit in a corner alone, replaying the situation over and over. Then the question, “Is it because of me?” pops into his head, like parents who blame themselves for raising a bad kid who turns into society’s trash. In those cases, I can kind of see the logic and understand it. But with Charlie, it’s not like that at all. My mistakes aren’t tied to anything he’s done, yet he keeps thinking that way.

   Am I making Charlie sad right now?

   How hard would Charlie cry if he knew I kissed someone else?

   “Ugh…”

   I pushed Willy away.

   “Pitbabe…”

   I couldn’t find him.

   Even if it’s not technically wrong, my mind wouldn’t let me do it.

   “Don’t… it’s not right,” I said softly. Normally, I’d be angry and make a bigger scene, but right now, I didn’t have the strength for that. My body was hard to control, but my heart was heavier, so much heavier. I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside by an overwhelming sense of guilt, a sin that didn’t exist but still tore me to pieces.

   “Why not?” Willy asked.

   “Don’t mess with me right now,” I said, staring at my empty glass, not daring to put it down on the bar. The moment I did, the bartender would refill it in a split second. I wasn’t sure yet if I wanted to keep drinking. “You’re just asking for trouble.”

   “It’s just a kiss. I wasn’t even thinking anything.”

   “You’re still young, Willy.”

   “Young again? Why do you have to say—”

   “It wasn’t just a kiss. I know.”

   Willy froze. He probably thought that in my drunken state, I wouldn’t notice anything beyond our lips touching. But as I said, he’s still young. That’s why he thinks so shallowly. Even if my other senses weren’t fully functional, the emotions conveyed through touch were the truest thing I’d ever felt. I’ve never met a human who could lie about something like that. His kiss just now was too deep to be a careless one. It carried feelings, expectations, and fear in every molecule. Someone who wasn’t thinking anything wouldn’t kiss like that, no way.

   “You might be bold because you see I’m single now, but it’s not that simple.”

   “I didn’t tell you to do anything,” Willy said, still reserved, acting like that kiss just now wasn’t a big deal. But the way he suddenly downed his drink in one go made his lie seem even flimsier. “It was just a kiss. I didn’t tell you to get over Phii Charlie or anything.”

   “And if I said during that kiss, I was only thinking of Charlie, what would you say?”

   Willy locked eyes with me, a small storm brewing in his gaze. But he was skilled enough to keep it from growing, at least for now.

   “Nothing,” the young man shrugged, as if unbothered. “You’re still sitting here pining for him, so it’s no surprise you’d think of him.”

   “But it won’t just be now, will it?”

   “One day, you’ll forget him.”

   “Will you wait?”

   “I can wait.”

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