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She kisses his head, leaving a little ring of lipstick behind. I’m tempted to clean it, but it might be cool to pick up the color in post.

I let her choose the pose. I just hope it won’t be completely obscene. But even if it is, this is authentic queer person Valeria.

“Give me your best sultry fuck-me face,” I say.

“Don’t you mean ‘fuck-you face’?”

I…actually said that wrong. I wave air on my face for a moment, trying to get rid of the flush. “Yeah, that one.”

She chuckles. “You’re a shitty photographer.”

I throw her the bird before proceeding.

Is it weird to say she’s even more fun now that I’m no longer concerned about being datable? The five-year age difference felt like decades when I was trying not to seem like a naive idiot, but now that the pressure is off, I see her as someone with whom I’m on equal footing. Now it feels like only five years. We spent twenty minutes before this talking about how Eustace was named after the man in Courage the Cowardly Dog and what a great show that was.

She puts on a come-hither face. The image is playful, mischievous even, but still powerful.

“Did Eustace cooperate?” Valeria asks after I finish photographing.

If by “cooperate” she means “look really uncomfortable,” then yes.

“He’s a Chihuahua. His face is funny. It’s inherently photogenic.”

We do one more round of photos, and this time I hold up a treat to get Eustace to look at the camera. If I wasn’t before, I’m now fully convinced that Valeria is a great actress, because she keeps a straight face the whole way through.

About an hour later, Valeria’s typing up her caption and I’m still staring wistfully at my phone. Waiting for Romy to text me, to explain herself. Every second my phone stays silent just sends a shiv deeper into my heart. It tells me that the kiss really did mean nothing. That I don’t mean to her what I’m growing more and more certain she means to me.

“Do you want to be tagged or no?” Valeria asks.

I’m trying to take my queer stuff slower. I’m trying to work with only what I feel I have some control over. “No thanks.”

She pushes a strand of hair out of her face. “Cool.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay. We’re gonna do it. Hold my hand?”

I take her hand. It’s started to feel natural.

She slams our hands on the tabletop, startling the shit out of Eustace. He runs from the room.

“It’s done,” she says.

I check my Instagram feed. And indeed, it is done. Caption: Reddit was right, bless. Along with seven gay flag emojis.

I like it, and my like disappears among hundreds in the first few seconds.

“Jesus, how do you know if it’s blowing up?” I ask.

She checks her own phone. “If it gets posted on another account within five minutes.”

Eustace drags his tiny body back into the living room, and Valeria gets the first call.

She doesn’t answer.

Then her phone explodes.

I let Valeria deal with her storm, and I turn my attention to my own people. Namely Romy. I think about Romy and the long road ahead of us as we try to heal the wounds we inflicted on each other last night. My affair with Valeria is over. And before Val, my best friend was there, leading me through these tumultuous waters. And I left her drowning. If Valeria can come out to the world, I can reach out to my best friend who kissed me last night.

I open up a text to her.

Hey can we talk about last night? I’m sorry I ran out on you, and I’m sorry for jerking you around the past few months.