The guys, they tease me. Call me “fuck­er”, half jok­ing, half jeal­ous. I ner­vous­ly laugh it off, but this gives me away. They know they’re right; no direct neg­a­tive acknowl­edges their sus­pi­cions. I don’t want to admit it, but I can’t stop laugh­ing. We’re all think­ing the same thing.

To deny myself is to deny them too.