I swirled the amber whiskey in my glass, feeling the smooth weight of it before taking a sip. It burned in the best way, warming me from the inside. Across the bar, Joshua smiled—an easy, laid-back grin, as if he had all the time in the world.
I hadn't intended for the night to go this well. This was supposed to be just one drink, a quick distraction from the mess I'd gotten myself into. But now I was here—buzzed, laughing, and completely tangled in a web of lies I couldn't seem to escape.
"You're a pro at this," Joshua said, leaning an elbow on the bar. "Most girls I know would've tapped out after two shots of tequila. Not you."
I raised an eyebrow and gave him a playful smirk.
"What can I say? My aunt Arisa taught me well."
He chuckled, sipping his own drink. "Makes sense. She always seemed like she could out-drink half the boardroom. Now it's starting to click—she must be your hero, huh?"
I mirrored his grin, though it felt a little tight. "Something like that."
Joshua leaned closer, the dim lighting catching the glint of mischief in his eyes. "Alright, tell me the truth—how many whiskey-tasting classes have you secretly taken? Or are you just this cool naturally?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I teased, feeling the banter come easily, almost too easily. "Let's just say it runs in the family."
Joshua laughed, that easy, melodic sound that made me forget, even for a moment, how absurd this whole situation was.
We were two strangers—except we weren't really strangers, were we? He thought he was out with Ariana, some bright-eyed 20-year-old niece of the woman he used to admire.
But in reality, I was that woman.
And that truth was lodged at the back of my throat, sharp as glass.
"So," Joshua said, swirling the ice in his glass, "you ever feel like you're trying too hard to be someone else?"
The question caught me off guard. He wasn't asking it in a heavy, brooding way, but casually, as if it were a passing thought. Yet, somehow, it felt like he'd just reached inside my chest and tugged at the exact thread I'd been avoiding all night.
"Why do you ask?" I deflected, though my voice softened.
He shrugged. "I guess it's just... I see it all the time, you know? People pretending to be someone they're not. Me? I spent years trying to be my older brother. Took me forever to realize I had no idea who I even was."
I nodded, feeling a strange kinship in his words. "Yeah... I think we all go through that. Trying to fit into a mold that's not really ours."
Joshua tilted his head, studying me. "But you... I don't know. You've got that same spark your aunt had. You seem... certain of who you are. Or at least, you make it look that way."
I smiled, though it felt bittersweet. If only he knew the truth.
As the night drifted on, the jazz music faded into the background, replaced by easy conversation and comfortable silence. We shared stories—his about disastrous modeling gigs, mine (carefully rebranded as 'Aunt Arisa's') about corporate chaos. Each story felt like a little tether between us, pulling us closer.
It felt like the universe had given me a second chance—a do-over, wrapped in dim lights and whiskey fumes.
But there was one problem: the clock was ticking, and the truth couldn't stay buried forever.
"Okay," Joshua said, setting down his glass with a satisfied sigh. "This was fun. I had a blast, actually." He leaned in, his smile easy but hopeful. "Let's do it again sometime. Can I get your number?"
The words hit me like a cold slap of reality. I froze, my mind spinning. If I gave him my real number, he'd realize something was off—he'd connect the dots between Ariana and Arisa. But if I didn't...
I didn't want this to end, not yet.
Joshua noticed my hesitation, his playful grin faltering just slightly. "What's up? Did I move too fast? I'm not great at this dating thing, you know." He gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck.
"No, no," I said quickly, forcing a smile. "It's not that. It's just... complicated."
For a moment, I considered giving him a fake number. It would've been easy. But I knew that wasn't fair—not to him, and not to me.
I bit my lip, looking down at my hands. "I had a great time tonight, Joshua. Really. But..." I exhaled slowly. "I think it's best if we leave it here."
The weight of the words settled between us like a heavy fog. Joshua stared at me for a beat, processing.
"Wow," he said softly, a crooked smile on his face. "Didn't think I'd get ghosted this fast."
I gave him a small, apologetic grin, though it didn't reach my eyes. "I'm sorry. It's not you. It's... complicated."
Just as I thought the moment would end in awkward silence, Joshua turned to the bartender. "Hey, man, could I get a pen and a napkin?"
The bartender handed over a pen without missing a beat, and Joshua began scribbling something down on the napkin. I watched, curiosity mixed with a flutter of panic in my chest.
Joshua slid the folded napkin across the bar toward me, his smile warm but not overbearing. "There," he said. "No pressure. But if you ever want to talk, or grab another drink... that's my number."
I stared at the napkin, my heart doing strange somersaults.
"You don't have to decide anything now," Joshua said gently. "Just… think about it."
For a moment, I was frozen in place, the napkin a tangible reminder of the connection we'd shared tonight. A connection that felt real—something I hadn't expected, and certainly hadn't planned for.
Joshua stood, giving me one last smile before heading toward the door. "Take care, Ariana," he said over his shoulder, the name stinging like a tiny pinprick to my heart.
I watched him leave, the weight of what I was giving up settling over me like a heavy fog.
Outside, the cool night air nipped at my skin. I unfolded the napkin in my hand, staring at the neatly written number scrawled across it. A small part of me wanted to call him, to chase after him and say, Wait. I'm not who you think I am—but I still want this.
But I didn't.
Instead, I stood there, the folded napkin tucked in my hand like a secret I wasn't ready to let go of.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced down at the screen, my breath catching.
SCAL Notification:
"Missed opportunity logged. Don't worry—another chance is always around the corner."
I stared at the words, a strange mixture of comfort and unease washing over me. Was this a promise... or a warning?
And if another chance with Joshua did come along... would I take it?