After hearing about my peanut allergy, my boyfriend's newly crowned campus queen added peanut extract to my signature cocktail.
Just one sip in, and my skin immediately erupted in hives. My throat started to close up rapidly.
I stumbled toward my canvas tote, pulled out my life-saving EpiPen, and yanked off the cap.
But the next second, my blood ran cold.
The emergency EpiPen had been swapped out for a tube of lipstick by my boyfriend.
Seeing my face turn purple as I collapsed onto the floor, the campus queen suddenly burst into laughter:
"Surprise! I specifically told Julian to swap it out!"
"You are such a fake. Anaphylactic shock from a single sip?"
I desperately gripped my boyfriend's cuff, letting out strained, wheezing gasps like a broken bellows:
"Julian... if you don't give me the real one... I'm really going to die!"
He peeled my fingers off him one by one and swatted my hand away in disgust, frowning slightly:
"Do you really think you're some delicate princess? It's just a drink. Are you seriously doing this?"
"Madison is right. You're just a drama queen making a scene!"
I gave up pleading for him to understand. Instead, I pressed the custom fountain pen in my pocket, triggering my old-money family's highest-tier SOS signal.
