Half-Hearted

Alexis
The idea came to me after my eighth shot of tequila, which was how I knew it was a good one. Because everybody agrees that tequila is the good ideas alcohol.
So it didn’t matter that it was two in the morning, or that I kept losing my balance because the stupid ground kept shifting underneath my stupid feet. Tonight was going to be the night I got an answer, one way or another.
So I marched right up to his apartment, banged on his door, and after six thousand, one hundred and fifty three days of waiting and wishing and wanting, I finally kissed Joel Bennett.

Joel
To Whomever Has Found My Body,
Ethan did it. With his bare hands, most likely.
In my defense, his sister kissed me. In his defense, I did the opposite of stopping her. That is until I realized the whole thing wasn’t some sort of lucid wet dream, that it was very real, and she was very wasted. And then I pulled away—I had to, because non-dream, real-life Alexis Milani was ten thousand unattainable shades of off-limits.
So I did the right thing: I went against every instinct and overwhelming desire, and I stopped it.
Here’s the thing with Pandora’s box, though: once it’s open, there’s no going back.