As I break off our light kiss to move to your cheek, then down to your jaw and neck, my movements falter for a split second before continuing. I plant a few more pecks as I inhale deeply, getting a whiff of what’s very obviously men’s cologne. What really confirms it, though, is when your shirt falls just slightly off your shoulder and I see a mark on your skin. One that I definitely didn’t leave. You were just with him.

We aren’t dating. Not even close. I wouldn’t even really say we’re close friends. We just get along really well in different ways, when we get the chance. I know you see other people outside of us, which of course you have every right to, but…I don’t even know how I truly feel with you. I know it’s something that makes a flame ignite in my chest when I can tell you were with another man.

It’s not love. No, no no no, not that. I don’t fall in love. Whatever this feeling is? I couldn’t tell you. Not like I’d even know how to say it, anyways.

And that’s okay. I mean, even if you see other guys, at least I’m one of them…right? Yeah.

Right.