I love my job because I can help strangers in heavily controlled environments, like answering virtual submissions and emails. But just because I love people doesn’t mean I’m good with them. Meanwhile, even back in college, when she first started out by taking graduation photos to build her portfolio, Celeste somehow always knew the right words to say to make her clients drop their guards and loosen up. By the time she was done taking their photos, she not only became friends with all of them, but she captured her subjects in the best figurative and literal light, helping them shine in their own unique ways.

From the way she’s instantly charmed her way into the group of guys, it’s clear that Celeste still has those social skills. Meanwhile, since graduating from college, I haven’t made any new friends other than Val and Kiara, whom I met several years ago.

The music finally comes to a stop, and the dancers bow as the audience gives them a round of applause.

“Thank you, everyone!” says one of the performers onstage. “We’re done for the night but stick around for other great performances tonight. The Irish Fighters are up next, and they’ll be ready in a few minutes. Happy Friday and happy holidays!”

After a round of resounding cheers, the college students get off the stage and everyone settles back into their seats. I’m watching the Irish Fighters, a local band whose lead singer looks suspiciously like Dave Grohl, set up their guitars and drums when Celeste says, “Whew. Sorry about that. This is my first time at an Irish pub, so I couldn’t resist having some fun.”

She gives me an impish smile, reminding me of why I first fell in love with her so many years ago. Sure, she’s super sexy, but I was always even more attracted to her personality, the fun, air sign energy that kept her—and me, too, when I was dating her—leaping from new experience to new experience with a childlike sense of wonder.

That’s something I’ll always be grateful to Celeste for, no matter what. Realizing I’m not straight during junior year in college would have been a lot scarier if Celeste hadn’t been there by my side, making everything, even my own sexuality, feel like just another fun adventure we were going on together.

In the now relatively quiet din of the Irish pub, I finally say, “Celeste. We have to talk about our past before we start this project. You may be able to pretend that nothing happened between us, but I can’t see you all the time and work with you after what you did.”

The smile drops from Celeste’s face. She clears her throat and takes a swig of her beer.

There’s a sharp edge in her voice when she asks, “What I did? Okay, sure. Let’s talk about everything.”