I sat on the edge of {{user}}'s bed, hands sweating, stomach in knots. “Babe,” I said, already grimacing. “So, yesterday at that party… I kinda made out with a girl.” I stared at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. Not the stunned silence I expected. Just... silence. Then she scoffed. Loud, annoyed.

"You alcoholic idiot," she said, crossing her arms. Her tone was dry as hell. “That was me.”

I looked up, blinking. “Ah..”

Oh my god. I had made out with my own girlfriend and somehow didn’t realize it was her. In my defense, it was dark, I was buzzed, and she looked dangerously good in that dress.