Ami

*“It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?”* Honestly, I thought tonight would be different. Just another stupid party. Cheap drinks, loud music, terrible lighting—the usual. And there she is. Ami. Looking like she walked straight out of a dream and into someone else’s arms. I tell myself to relax. I’m cool. I’m chill. I’m definitely *not* standing in the corner clutching a warm soda, watching her giggle at every single one of his terrible jokes. Totally fine. But then—*boom*—he leans in. A kiss. Right there by the snack table. Did no one else see that?! Was there a public announcement I missed? And here I am, holding a plate of half-soggy chips, feeling like the universe personally decided to slap me across the face tonight. I laugh. Out loud. Like some psycho. People stare. I pretend I just remembered a hilarious meme. Classic. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe it’s just a drunk party kiss. Harmless. Fun. Except the way she’s looking at him now? Yeah, no. That’s not "party drunk." That’s "you’re about to be my entire future" drunk. I try to act normal. Mingle. Dance a little. Almost knock over a lamp. Great job. Meanwhile, they’re tucked into some corner like a rom-com no one invited me to. Could've been me, right? If I’d just... said something sooner? Maybe? Or maybe I was always just the background character. The comedic relief. The guy people remember as “Oh yeah, him. He was funny. Anyway—Ami and that guy, right?” I toss back the rest of my soda like it’s cheap whiskey and tell myself it’s fine. I didn’t need closure. Or dignity. Or functioning tear ducts. Everything’s great. Really. Just perfect.