Chapter 3: The Unholy Dilemma

Alright, buckle up because this chapter is about to get wild. Picture this: I’m  standing outside of church, my heart still racing from that awkward forehead kiss with Emma. She’s forgiven me, but let’s be real, she’s still giving me that “don’t mess up again” look. Meanwhile, my phone buzzes in my pocket like a time bomb, and guess who it is? Yup, Courtney. The one person I really didn’t need to hear from right now.

“Hey, sweetie, don’t forget tomorrow we meet up to plan my birthday, right? Let’s meet during school lunch time at 2.”

My brain short-circuits. My eyes dart over to Emma, who’s finally stopped staring daggers into my soul, and then back at my phone. How in the world am I going to handle this? But before I dive headfirst into this mess, let me take you on a little journey through my thought process.

Option 1: Meet Emma at 2 p.m. and risk Courtney finding out later. Sounds like a solid plan… if you’re into self-sabotage. The girl just forgave me for “overreacting” (a word I’m now officially banning from my vocabulary), and bailing on her would be like jumping back into the flames I just crawled out of.

Option 2: Meet Courtney at 2 p.m. because, let’s face it, she’s been my ride-or-die since we were kids. If I don’t show up, she’ll know something’s up. And if I do show up, I risk Emma finding out and thinking something’s definitely up. Either way, I’m screwed.

Option 3: Meet them both at 2 p.m. and let them introduce themselves. What could possibly go wrong, right? Oh, I don’t know, maybe everything? This isn’t a rom-com where everyone gets along and I walk away with two best friends and no drama. This is real life, and in real life, these things usually end with someone throwing shade, or worse, punches.

So, what do I do? Do I risk my relationship with Emma by prioritizing Courtney, or do I risk hurting Courtney’s feelings by choosing Emma? And what if I go full crazy and try to introduce them? Could I somehow come out of this alive?

You know what you might be confused by all this chaos right now and probably wont even be able to choose between either options so allow me to take you back and we will be back to the options and chose again. 

The front door creaks open, and my heart jumps. For a split second, I think it’s Emma coming in, and a weird mix of dread and excitement washes over me. After all, she was the one following behind me just minutes ago. But then reality kicks in—there’s no way she could’ve gotten here that fast because looking back I saw no trace of her, relief floods through me as I realize it’s probably just my mother. But then again, I’ve learned never to celebrate too early.

Courtney’s still wrapped around me, completely unfazed by the footsteps coming closer. She’s fearless like that, especially when it comes to my mom, who practically treats her like family. But this time, things take a sharp left turn.

Instead of my mother, a very angry lady storms into the room, eyes blazing like she’s on a mission. “I sent you home to fetch my Bible, and you’re in here playing with Courtney!” she yells, her voice reverberating off the walls.

I can’t even lie—this is probably the first time I’ve ever been happy to see my mother because, with the way things were going, it could’ve been so much worse. But that relief doesn’t last long because my mom is clearly in no mood for games.

She storms off to her room, grabs her Bible, and on her way out, she turns back to Courtney. “Make sure you prepare lunch! I want it ready when I get back from church.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Courtney replies, her voice steady, not a trace of fear. If anything, she looks amused. That’s how close she is to my family—close enough to get orders like she’s part of it.

As soon as my mom leaves, Courtney shifts her focus back to me. “Meet me tomorrow at 2 p.m. We need to plan my birthday,” she says, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

“Understood, I’ll be there,” I say, trying to sound confident, but inside, I’m already tangled in knots, wondering how I’m going to navigate this mess.

But that’s a problem for later. Right now, I just need to survive the day without any more surprises.

We head back to the car, and there’s Emma, waiting patiently. Just seeing her makes my heart race a little faster. Emma is stunning—her brown eyes sparkle, her skin glows, and her long hair frames her face beautifully. Her smile could light up a room. But wait, I’m actually describing Courtney here. Classic mix-up! Emma’s got her own appeal, though. She’s got curves and a tiny waist that’s definitely eye-catching, even if her church outfit hides most of it.

We settle into the back seat, and as we start talking, my mom’s inquisitive nature kicks in. “So, are you two dating?” she asks, like she’s just thrown a curveball into our conversation.

“Mom, come on,” I say, laughing nervously, trying to deflect, but she’s relentless.

“I notice the way you look at her, how your voice softens, and you actually smile when you talk about her. So, do you like her?” she presses.

Here’s the tricky part—yes, we’re dating, but saying so out loud feels like stepping into a minefield. What if Emma’s waiting for me to make it official? And if I say no, what if it complicates things? I opt for silence, hoping it’ll defuse the situation. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

“You can’t hide it. I can see it clearly—you like her. The way you’re always around her, calling her for everything, and finding excuses to talk about her. It’s like you’re obsessed.”

Obsessed? I’ve never even mentioned Emma to my mom, let alone talked about her incessantly. Where’s she getting this from? And then my mom cranks it up a notch.

“And the way you were hugging her, so close, gazing into her eyes while she rested her head on your chest when I walked in—that’s not just a friendly hug. I know you love Courtney.”

Boom. My mom’s done it again. I turn to Emma, and she’s giving me a look that could melt steel. I try to take her hand, but she pulls it away and stares out the window, clearly upset.

Just when I think things can’t get worse, my mom continues. “I could’ve sworn that one time I walked into your room, you two were in a… questionable position. You don’t want to admit it, but I know what I saw.”

Oh, you think that’s bad? It gets worse. My mom goes on, “When I walked in, she was in a position that suggested something more intimate, and you were right behind her…” She grabs a couple of dolls from the front seat and starts demonstrating, as if it’s show-and-tell. Emma’s face shifts from annoyed to downright furious. Who is this person my mom’s describing? Emma and I had shared that we’re both supposed to be virgins. This bizarre story is making everything seem questionable.

And let me be clear, I am still a virgin. My body’s on high alert, and I’m trying to stay composed while my dignity feels like it’s hanging by a thread.

We finally pull up to the church, and I grab Emma’s hand as we get out. “Listen, Emma, I can explain. It’s really not what you think,” I say, desperately hoping for some understanding.

Emma looks at me with those piercing eyes, and I know I’m in serious trouble. I let her hand go, and she turns away, looking out into the distance. The instruments start playing, and the band is already going strong. I’m late, of course. I rush inside, take my spot in the band, and try to focus on the music, but all I can think about is how tangled up I am in this mess.

I rush inside and take my spot in the band, joining in with the music. The preacher starts his sermon, but my focus is anything but holy. My eyes keep darting to Emma, who’s seated in a corner, completely ignoring me. I can’t read her expression; she’s a total mystery wrapped in frustration.

Desperate, I shoot her a text: “Come on, let’s meet outside and talk.” Her reply comes back, but not as a text. Instead, I hear her voice loud and clear in my head, even though my phone shows no new messages. “You better stay there looking at me. You don’t even realize the amount of people noticing you look at me nonstop. And I don’t want to talk to you.”

My brain short-circuits. How is this even possible? I’m staring at my phone, trying to make sense of it when a voice inside my head chimes in, “These are all the things you could do if you just let me out and work with me.” And just like that, the voice fades away.

Seriously, the demon always knows how to make an entrance. I mean, imagine being able to hear Emma’s thoughts right now. Now I am over here overthinking because let’s face it i really need the demon’s power right now, should I let him out a bit because I really need to know what she is thinking. I’m so rattled I start tapping my leg, harder and harder, until Michael, one of my closest friends—actually, my best friend, because no romantic feelings here, haha—puts a hand on my leg and says, “I know, I know, but chill out, buddy.”

Michael’s here for me, and I appreciate it. He starts rubbing my thigh gently, which is supposed to calm me down. It works—until I realize what he’s doing. I shove his hand away, exclaiming, “Hey, what are you doing? Get your hands off me!”

Michael, not missing a beat, tries again with a grin, “Come on, let me rub your thighs, baby girl. Let me giggle them.” I can’t help but laugh as I bat his hand away. “Stop it, bro!”

Right in front of us, Steven, another band member, is watching the whole thing with a serious expression. There’s a moment of awkward silence before Steven finally says, “Why are you gay?”

The band erupts into laughter, but the voice in my head cuts through the humor. “Why are you laughing? You’ve got a gigantic problem waiting for you over there,” it taunts. Seriously, just when I thought I could catch a break, the demon has to ruin it.

As the laughter dies down, I try to focus on the music, but all I can think about is how tangled up I am in this mess, and how badly I need to sort things out with Emma before everything completely falls apart.

As the preacher wraps up his sermon and asks for a final song, the band plays our hearts out. The church service ends, and I’m out the door in a flash, my mind racing. I spot Emma heading toward her parents’ car and make a beeline for her.

“Hey, Emma, wait up!” I call, catching her by the shoulder and spinning her around. “Listen, I’m sorry, okay? Please, let me talk to you.”

Emma looks at me, her expression unreadable. “Talk.”

Alright, here goes nothing. “Courtney is my best friend—the friend I’ve known the longest. She’s like the sibling I never had. We’ve grown up together. That hug earlier? It’s just how we’ve always been. Nothing’s changed. She’s always been like a sister to me.”

Now, dear reader, let me give you a piece of advice: If someone ever says, “She’s like a sister to me,” run. Just run. It’s usually code for “I’m about to dig myself into a deeper hole.”

Emma’s eyebrows shoot up. “Did you just say ‘nothing has changed’? Well, guess what? I’m your girlfriend, and we’ve been together for a while. Why haven’t you mentioned her before? Your mom made it sound like you two are in love. What’s up with that?”

I try to diffuse the situation, saying, “Come on, Emma, you’re overreacting.”

And the demon inside me? It chimes in with, “Oh, you done messed up.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. “I’m overreacting? Say it again. I dare you.”

She’s starting to really lose it, and I’m bracing myself. I’ve been through enough drama with Courtney to handle this. I gently take her hands, pull her close, and kiss her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I was wrong. Can I please make it up to you?”

Suddenly, I hear whistling and cheering. Oh, right, we’re still at church, and everyone’s watching. Yep, everyone now knows we’re dating. And the worst part? My mother saw the whole thing.

Emma’s still in my arms, but she’s calmed down a lot. “Alright, sorry, baby. We’ll talk more, but I forgive you. Let’s meet tomorrow at 2 during school lunch.”

I’m relieved and smile, thinking things might be looking up. Then my phone rings. It’s Courtney. “Hey, sweetie, don’t forget tomorrow we’re meeting to plan my birthday, right? Let’s meet during school lunch at 2.”

Oh. My. God. What do I do now? I know what we can do let’s dive back to my options now that they make sense

Option 1: Meet Emma at 2 p.m. and risk Courtney finding out later. Sounds like a solid plan… if you’re into self-sabotage. The girl just forgave me for “overreacting” (a word I’m now officially banning from my vocabulary), and bailing on her would be like jumping back into the flames I just crawled out of.

Option 2: Meet Courtney at 2 p.m. because, let’s face it, she’s been my ride-or-die since we were kids. If I don’t show up, she’ll know something’s up. And if I do show up, I risk Emma finding out and thinking something’s definitely up. Either way, I’m screwed.

Option 3: Meet them both at 2 p.m. and let them introduce themselves. What could possibly go wrong, right? Oh, I don’t know, maybe everything? This isn’t a rom-com where everyone gets along and I walk away with two best friends and no drama. This is real life, and in real life, these things usually end with someone throwing shade, or worse, punches.

So, what do I do? Do I risk my relationship with Emma by prioritizing Courtney, or do I risk hurting Courtney’s feelings by choosing Emma? 

Do I meet my girlfriend who just forgave me after a major mess-up? If I bail on her, she’ll wonder where I was and might think something’s up with Courtney. And if I don’t tell Courtney about Emma, she’ll be even angrier when she finds out I’ve been keeping secrets.

Or should I ditch my best friend—my ride-or-die, the one who’s been with me through thick and thin—for my girlfriend I’ve only known for a few months? 

If I choose Emma, what do I say to Courtney? She’s never been disappointed by me before. If she finds out this way, she’ll be hurt and might never forgive me.

Or, what if I introduce them both? What could possibly go wrong?

Ohh boy, what could go wrong i say.