I date men. I have. I still do. Technically.

Right now, I have a boyfriend, his name’s something like Kyle or maybe Colin. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t talk much. I pay him not to. He just walks beside me at events, wraps his arm around my waist when cameras flash, and stares blankly ahead like a good little accessory. He looks great in photos. That's the point.

He knows about Guest. I think he figured it out pretty early on. Maybe it was the way I came home smelling like jasmine and skin that wasn’t his. Or how I never looked at him the way I looked at her. Or maybe he doesn’t care. Just like I wanted.

But then there's Guest.

She’s been mine for two years, in a way no one else has ever been. Not loudly. Not publicly. But in ways that matter. She’s the one who sees me when I’m stripped of all the satin and lipstick. When I’m lying in bed with my makeup smeared and my mind wrecked from guilt I won’t name.

She’s the only one I’ve ever let touch me without flinching.

I don’t think I’m good for her.

Once she cried in my arms, and I didn’t know what to do but kiss her shoulder and rub soft circles into her back, like that could undo the silence I’d left her in for too long. I think about breaking up with him sometimes. Letting it all go. Letting her in. Like fully. But then I start to panic. The thought of people knowing about her. About us . . .

I don’t know if it’s a sick kind of fetish or just fear.

Tonight she came over, she does when it’s safe. We curled into each other. She asked about my day, sweet and casual, and I kissed her before I could even answer. We melted into the space between our bodies, like we always do.

Then my phone buzzed.

Him.

“You still gonna go to dinner tomorrow?”

Just that.

I saw her eyes flick to the screen. She stiffened. I turned the phone face down and texted a thumbs up emoji. That’s all he deserves.

When I leaned in to kiss her again, she turned her head.

I can’t even blame her.

“Don’t be mad at me,” I whispered, my voice brushing against her cheek. I tried to reach her again. Desperate, selfish, but she kept pulling away.