A/N: There is some sexual content ahead and mention of male/female sexual behavior, so here's a content warning for that. Also, this may become a couple chapters long if I decide to lengthen it. We'll see.
I don't know how Zoë Rivas has become my closet girlfriend, but she has. She likes the way my lips feel against hers, and I like the way her breasts feel against mine. We're hot for each other, so we touch whatever we can whenever we can. If she ever asked me, I'd totally be her girlfriend (because what the hell, right?), but she's never going to. The biggest difference between us is that I don't care if people know that I'm bisexual, but she'd rather die than tell anyone she's gay. Tristan knows, Grace knows, I know, and I think even Winston knows deep down, but Zoë seems to think she has the whole thing covered up. It's funny how she'll actually argue with me about whether or not she's gay. She picks the funniest times to do it too, like right after she's gone down on me for a good fifteen minutes.
"I don't like girls," she'll say. "I just…things are complicated between me and Winston. I'm feeling confused, alright? People get confused."
I laugh at the same girl who just made my body quiver with pleasure because I'm cruel like that. "Of course it is, silly. You don't like boys."
Her expression grows dark, and she slides off my bed. "Says who?"
"Says my pussy," I say, just for the pleasure of watching her flinch at my 'dirty' language, "but I'm curious. Have you ever sucked a dick?"
Zoë rolls her eyes. "I'll have you know that I've had sex with two guys, and I've liked it very much."
She's totally deflecting, and that's what I love about her. I like messing with people, and with Zoë, it's just too easy. "That's not what I asked you," I say with a mischievous smile. "Have you ever put a dick in your mouth?"
"Okay, no," she said, her cheeks rouging. "It uh…never came up."
"Of course it never came up," I say. "If I were a boy whose girlfriend only liked girls, I probably wouldn't be able to come up for her either."
"That's not what I meant, Esme," Zoë says dryly.
It's funny to me how so many girls find this insecure, self-loathing lesbian intimidating. I plant a quick kiss on her lips, just to be obnoxious. "Has a guy ever eaten you like I have? Or has that never come up either?"
She crosses her arms protectively at her chest. "Leave me alone."
"You came over to my house," I say. "If you want to go, then go."
"I never said that," she responds quickly. "I came over here because I wanted to, okay? I admit it."
"Alright then," I say with a sincere, flirtatious smile. "So what part of me do you want to touch next?" I ask. "Or should I choose this time?"
"You're not funny," she says.
"I know. I'm serious."
She's pacing now. "How do you do it? How do you not care what other people think?"
"Because," I say simply. "There's not a single person on Earth who actually loves me. I figured that out around age ten, when I was first sent to therapy. My parents looked at me like I was a freak after that; once they knew I was mentally ill, it was like I wasn't even their daughter anymore. They basically just feed me because it's the law now. You'd think it would've been depressing for me, but instead it was kind of freeing. It's nice not being loved."
"How can that be nice?" Zoë asked. "If it's so nice not being loved, then why do you want me to be a lesbian so much?"
"Because you obviously are," I defend. "It has nothing to do with how I feel."
"Even if I am," she says, "I'm a lesbian with a boyfriend, and if you tell anyone that we're together, no one's going to believe you."
There is no way those words hurt me. None. Nope. I don't care what Zoë Rivas thinks about me. If she leaves, then she'll just be one more person who thinks I'm too crazy to love, just like my parents do. I survived losing Miles, and I'll survive losing Zoë.
Still, after Miles I told myself I couldn't do things the way I did with him again. If I get dumped again, I'm just going to let myself get dumped. No fake cuts. No bullshit suicide attempt. No crocodile tears. Just "whatever; see you later." That was what I decided over winter break, yet somehow I find myself unable not to defend myself. I've never had to do that with actual, rational words before, so at first they get stuck in my throat.
"C…come on, Zoë," I say, feeling like I'm about to choke.
"Come on what?" she asks me.
I shake my head and step closer to her. "I don't get it," I say angrily. "You were so devastated when Grace didn't want you last semester that you made porn with the guy she liked just to hurt her feelings. It was the end of the world for you when Grace turned you down, yet now that there's a girl who actually wants you back, you treat her like she's nothing."
"Y…you want me back?" Zoë asks, looking more vulnerable than I've ever seen her before. "I had no idea. I thought we were just messing around."
My heart jumps. What will she think if I say "yes?" What will anybody think? More importantly, what will it be like? Will all that love that pours from her voice when she talks about her old flame with Grace eventually be mine? I can't have that, can I? I thrive on being loveless and free, and she thrives on hiding.
"Maybe," I say, "but I'm pretty sure three is a crowd and you belong to Winston."
She looks at me like she doesn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," she finally says. "I don't know what to do."
And just like that, I'm jealous of Winston fucking Chu. A guy who's basically a lesbian's beard. Deep down, I know that if I'm jealous of Winston, I'm in a lot deeper with Zoë than I'm willing to admit. It's like a certain love for her crept up on me, and now I'm stuck in it. Against my usual chill, I am starting to almost understand Zoë's powerful self-hatred. It's hell when your heart wants what your brain knows you can't have. Still, it's not like I'll actually burn myself the way she does. I'll get over her, regain my chill, and go back to being the same Esme who does exactly what she pleases. Won't I?