Yours to Bare

by Jessica Hawkins

  He bends his knees for a kiss. “I thought you were doing happy hour.”

  “I changed my mind.” When I’d asked Benny what she was up to tonight, she hadn’t extended an invitation. “I want to come with you instead.”

  He looks at me in the reflection. “To the rehearsal dinner? But it’s a job.”

  “So?”

  “So if you come, they might figure out who you are.”

  “I thought you said the bride was referred to you by a previous client.”

  “She was, but still. If she’s seen our photos, it wouldn’t take much to put it together.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed. I’ve been having thoughts about that. Dangerous thoughts, or maybe exciting ones—I haven’t decided. The night Ken was here changed some things for me. After he left, Finn and I fucked into dawn, all different ways, until he passed out. I, on the other hand, had never felt more alive, more owned, inside and out. I’d read my darkest desires cover to cover, some of it aloud to myself for the first time. When Finn had recited my words to me with Ken’s finger in my mouth, I understood his message—he accepts me as I am, and he’ll always take care of me. And I began to wonder—if I’m lucky enough to have that, why do I care what others think? This is a different time than when my mom had her accident, and my name was news. People’s names are splashed across the tabloids on a daily basis and forgotten within hours. I’m finally starting to see what Finn’s been trying to show me. I’m my own woman. I don’t need to be afraid of my dad or anyone else. My talent draws people in.

  I want to do this as much for him as myself. “What if they did put it together?”

  Finn stops tightening the knot of his tie. “What do you mean?”

  “I think I want to reveal my identity.”

  He turns around. “You think?”

  “No—I do.”

  “That’s, uh . . . a big deal.”

  “I know. I’ve been toying with the idea for a few weeks.”

  “It’s the first I’m hearing of it, though.”

  I wasn’t aware I had to run it by him. Aside from the rules we laid out that first day, I’ve never tried to regulate what he posts or how he presents himself on our account. “Do I need your permission?”

  “It’s something we need to discuss, yes. And take some time to consider.”

  “Actually, since we’re going to hit a hundred-thousand tomorrow, and it’s your birthday, I thought maybe we could do it then. A big reveal to celebrate.”

  He gapes at me. “Just like that? Do you realize . . . I mean, that can’t be undone, Hals. Once it’s out there, that’s it.”

  I blink in disbelief. Finn’s encouraged me for a while to own my sexuality, my weirdness, my words. I would’ve thought he’d like to see me breaking out of my shell. “Yes, I realize that.”

  He checks his watch. “I have to leave, like, now. We can finish this later, but let’s just say it’s not happening tomorrow. No way.”

  I frown, disappointed. This is our project, not his. That’s exactly it, though. I have to respect his opinion if I want the same from him. I won’t let him talk me out of revealing myself, but I can respect that he wants to announce it in his own time. “Okay. I just need to change.”

  “Hals, it’s my job. I don’t think I’m supposed to bring a date.”

  It’s his job. Nothing to do with me, even though I’m half the reason his career is even taking off. “We’ll tell them I’m your assistant,” I say. “I’ll hold your camera, and I won’t eat. They sound like stuffy uptowners anyway. I doubt they’re up on the latest social media trends.”

  “All right.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up after he’d clearly styled it. “You have five minutes.”

  I pop up off the bed, grinning, and fix his hair. At the closet, I hurriedly browse through my things. Finn gave me half the space, but it’s cramped. We had to put our summer things in a bin under the bed. I haven’t been to a wedding in ages, but luckily I have no shortage of little black dresses. I pick the simplest one and pair it with heels, jewelry, tights, and a clutch. I come out of the closet a new woman. Well, as new as I can become in five minutes. Okay, eight.

  Finn’s waiting for me in the entryway.

  “Well, well,” he says, smiling. “You’ll get me in trouble for showing up the bride.”

  I roll my eyes. No amount of primping could erase a full day at work. “Thanks for letting me come. It means a lot.”

  He takes my hand. “Don’t think I won’t put you to work.”

  It turns out the bride and groom are over-the-top welcoming and not the least bit old-fashioned. I try to make myself invisible by shadowing Finn, but they insist we sit at the table and partake in grilled salmon and expensive wine. Finn gets up every few minutes to capture speeches and candids. Watching him work in this capacity is like seeing him through new eyes. He’s overdressed, and ridiculously handsome, but it’s his focus and skill with the camera that keeps my attention.

  “What kind of lens is he using?”

  I turn to find that Eric, the groom-to-be, has taken the seat next to mine. “Um. I’m not sure.”

  “I thought you were the assistant.”

  “I mostly just hold things.”

  He laughs. “Sounds like my impending position of husband.”

  “I also have to tell him how great he is or he gets cranky.”

  “Same with Elyse,” Eric says. “You’re writing my job description right now. More wine?”

  I’ve already had a glass, but tonight, we’re celebrating—Eric and Elyse. Finn’s birthday and his burgeoning career. My big decision to come out and one-hundred K. I slide my wineglass over for a refill.

  Elyse walks up, waving an envelope. “For this weekend,” she says, sitting on the other side of me, in Finn’s chair. “Your boss won’t take it until the job is done, but I just want it gone. All the outgoing envelopes of money are giving me anxiety.”

  I smile, slipping the check under the table and into his camera bag. “I’ll hide it from him until Sunday.”

  “So do you guys do many weddings?” she asks.

  The answer is no. In fact, I think this is Finn’s first, but I don’t want to ding his credibility. I drink Pinot Noir while thinking of an answer. “I’m new, so no,” I say. Not technically a lie. “I’ve never done one.”

  “Done one what?” Finn asks, planting his hands on the back of my chair. I look up at him, and he winks.

  “Wedding,” I answer. “As a photographer’s assistant.”

  “That makes two of us,” Finn says.

  “Really?” Elyse looks surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought so. I guess I should’ve asked.” She laughs. “Luckily, we’re easygoing.”

  “Who was it that recommended you again?” Finn asks. “I didn’t catch the name when we were on the phone.”

  “Oh, well, actually . . .” She lowers her voice, leaning in. “That’s not true. I was a little embarrassed to say, but,” she and Eric exchange a glance, “we found you because of your other photos.”

  Wait. Other photos? Mine?

  My jaw drops. I’d wondered fleetingly whether they’d nosed around Finn’s website and found the link to our account . . . but this! A real-life encounter with our followers.

  Finn laughs stiffly. “And your first thought was wedding photographer?”

  “We’re a little non-traditional if you can’t tell,” Elyse says. “We were so sick of fake smiles and tears, awkward prom poses. At the last minute, we came across your work and decided to scrap our other photographer. We want something more original.”

  I look up again, but Finn’s stepped back, outside my line of vision. “Wow. I’m glad,” he says, although he doesn’t sound glad.

  Oh my God.

  This couple, sitting next to me?

  They’ve seen me half-naked. And they liked what they saw. Enough to hire Finn for the biggest day of their lives.

  Did they like what they read too?

&nbs
p; I take a fortifying sip of wine. It leaves a film that has me smacking my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “How’d you find the account?” I ask, trying not to sound as eager as I feel.

  “I don’t even remember. Do you?” Elyse asks Eric. “Was it Sharon?”

  “I think so,” Eric says. “We have some friends who are obsessed with the latest social media and they’re always unearthing these amazing sites. How’d you get started with that, Finn?”

  It’s making me nervous that I can’t see Finn. It could be my imagination—it must be—but I think tension is rolling off his body. “It just kind of happened,” he says.

  “And how involved is the model, really?” he asks. “She can’t really be that hot and articulate.”

  Elyse reaches across me to slap Eric’s arm. “Hey.”

  “I just know what a rare combo it is,” he backtracks, “since I’m lucky enough to have found it in you. Clearly.”

  I want to squeal. Kick up my feet. Invite the whole dinner table into our conversation. He’s talking about me. Me. I’m sitting right in front of them, and they have no idea.

  “She’s very involved,” Finn says. “All the writing is hers.”

  “Can you give us a hint?” Eric asks. “Is she famous?”

  I swipe my clammy palms down the front of my dress, then pick up my wine glass. I can’t not speak up. This is a sign—I was right earlier. It’s time for me to come out. I stop trying to suppress my smile. “It’s me,” I blurt. “I’m her.”

  Both pairs of eyes turn to me. Probably Finn’s as well. “Halston,” he says under his breath. His hands return to the top of my chair, but I don’t look up. I don’t care if he’s mad. This is my moment. My heart might be racing a mile a minute, the inside of my elbow might be burning, but it’s liberating to say the words to someone other than Finn.

  “I’m Anonymous,” I say.

  “No shit?” Eric asks with an open-mouthed laugh. “Seriously? Anonymous is coming to our wedding?”

  “Well, no,” I say. “I wasn’t planning—”

  “You have to come,” Elyse says. “My girlfriends will die. They’re huge fans of you guys.”

  “As are my friends,” Eric adds with a snicker, then seems to remember Finn is there. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—are you two a couple?”

  “They’ll go ape shit, my friends,” Elyse continues, ignoring her fiancé. “They’ll probably want your autograph. Unless—oh, shit. We can’t tell them who you are, can we?”

  Finally, I turn in my chair to check with Finn. He doesn’t look happy. “Unfortunately, no,” he says. “And Halston actually can’t make it tomorrow night.”

  My excitement falls. After all the ways I’ve supported him, and even all the ways he’s encouraged me, he’s taking this away from me. I turn back to a crestfallen Elyse. “I think I can get out of my plans,” I say. “What would it hurt for a few people to know?”

  “Halston,” Finn says through his teeth. “I need to get some shots of the décor in the front room. Can you help me set them up?”

  “She’s really your assistant?” Eric asks.

  “I admire your willpower,” Elyse says. “If I were Instagram famous, I’d be blasting that shit everywhere.”

  My body thrills from fingertips to toes. Famous. Us. Are we? I hadn’t even considered we might be, but then again, we’re going to hit a hundred-thousand followers tomorrow. Last I checked, we were only five hundred away. I’ve been keeping the sexiest photo we have as our ace in the hole. My pink lips, wrapped around Ken’s thumb while his other hand fists my hair. Once I post it, I know we’ll hit our goal. We have to.

  “Hals? Need your help.” Finn puts a hand on my shoulder. “And yes, we’re together. She’s my girlfriend.”

  It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to Eric.

  “Oh.” Eric nods. “I figured.”

  Elyse claps her hands in the following silence. “Go get your shot, then we’ll do dessert. The bakery made us something special for tonight, so I want to get a few pictures of it.”

  “Of course,” Finn says. “We’ll only be a minute.”

  Finn helps me scoot out from under the table. I pick up his camera bag, putting it over my shoulder. He waits for me to walk through the glass doors of the dining room and into the restaurant’s dim entryway. Tiny tea lights illuminate the area, and Eric and Elyse’s guestbook sits open on a pedestal. Other than that, I don’t see much decoration.

  “What was that?” Finn asks.

  “I know. Incredible, right?” It isn’t what he means, but he has to be excited about this too. Just a little. We’ve worked hard to get here. I should be able to enjoy our success with him, not from the shadows.

  “We decided revealing your identity wasn’t a good idea.”

  I turn my back to the floor-to-ceiling glass looking into the dining room. I don’t want to be watching a bunch of happy people while we argue. “You decided that. It’s only two people.”

  “And their friends who’ll be there tomorrow night. You know Elyse is going to tell—that isn’t the point. You did something I asked you not to.”

  My throat closes. That sounds familiar. Too familiar. My fingertips tingle, like they’re trying to warn me. Since when does Finn order me around? Have I made the same mistake with him as I did two years ago with Rich? Do I subconsciously choose my father on purpose? “I’ve done everything else you’ve asked,” I say. “You wanted my words, I gave them to you. You told me to stay anonymous, I agreed. You wanted me, I broke up with my boyfriend.”

  Finn’s eyebrows shoot to the middle of his forehead. The shadows on his face make him look angrier than is—or at least, I hope so. “I don’t even know where to start with that. How did I tell you to stay anonymous?”

  “You suggested I keep my identity hidden.”

  “Only because you wouldn’t let me use your journal otherwise.”

  My last few gulps of wine are kicking in. I don’t remember the specifics of that conversation right now, but I do know I never would’ve gone down this path if not for him. And now he’s acting as though I’m just some model like Eric thought I was. It dawns on me that maybe Finn wants me be to that. “Do you not want people knowing who I am?” I ask.

  “We’ve covered this.” He glances over my head. “People are looking over. We’re making a scene.”

  I reel back, crossing my arms. “Is it because I’ll get the credit I deserve?”

  Finn’s nostrils flare. “Are you seriously suggesting, after months of trying to get you to see your worth, that I don’t want you to succeed?”

  That’s one explanation, but another possibility hits me right in the chest. What if Finn’s coaching hasn’t been entirely innocent? Maybe he recognized early on that he needed me for this business to work. If I come out, he’ll be the one in the shadows, or at least forced to share the spotlight.

  Oh God.

  I need something, and I need it right now. Anything. Coffee, cigarettes, wine, I don’t care. This edge is too sharp for me to balance on without something to dull it.

  “This isn’t the time for this conversation,” Finn says. “But you bet your ass we’ll pick it up as soon as we get home.”

  “Fine.” I start to turn. “I’ll be outside.”

  “No. It’s cold, and I’m afraid you’ll take off. Stay and be mad, but don’t go without talking to me first.” He squints at me. “And maybe take it easy on the wine, all right? You know I don’t care if you drink, but we are working.”

  He goes back inside. That’s such a Dad move—tell me what not to do, then walk away before I can argue my point. Is it me? Do I bring out that side of men, turn them into domineering assholes? That’s what Dad and Rich and Doctor Lumby have been telling me all along, isn’t it? That I need to be on meds for myself and the people who love me?

  I’m not even allowed to go outside by myself for fuck’s sake. I should leave. It’d serve him right. But that afternoon I ran away from the museum, nothi
ng felt right. I walked for hours, sick over how I’d thrown a tantrum and run away. I needed that alone time, like I do now, but I didn’t handle it right.

  Taking a lungful of air, I go back into the restaurant. Elyse leads Finn to the kitchen, presumably to photograph a pastry. He glances over his shoulder, and we meet eyes right before he passes through the swinging aluminum doors. I’m glad, because I don’t want him to see how I’m unraveling. I head straight for the restaurant’s bar. Fortunately, it’s off to the side, somewhat separated from the main dining area.

  The bartender tosses a coaster in front of me. “What can I get you?”

  “Anything. I was drinking Pinto Noir over there.”

  “You with the wedding party?” he asks, getting a wineglass from the back of the bar.

  “Sort of. Photographer’s assistant.” In a way, that’s what I am. “Any chance you have a cigarette? I’ll pay you for it.”

  He laughs. “You must be desperate. I’ll get you one.”

  I drink my wine. My mind buzzes from our argument. Finn knew me before he even met me. How many couples can say that? Did we move too fast, thinking we were invincible because we were meant to be? It was exciting, exhilarating—fucking and sharing feelings day in and day out while I led a double life. At work, I was a version of myself, but to Finn, I was just me.

  I wonder—who said it was even a good thing to be your true self? To have no boundaries with or secrets from the person you love? Isn’t that dangerous? I thought diving in headfirst was romantic. Thrilling. Looking back, I should’ve been more wary of the red flag, like when Finn threatened to delete the account if I didn’t stop going through the messages and comments. And he was so insistent Ken sign a non-disclosure. I thought he was protecting me, but what if he’s been monitoring what I see and who sees me?

  That’s not all.

  Even after a few months together, he continues to pretend Marissa doesn’t exist in our relationship. I barely know a thing about her. And, he has access to my finances, but I know nothing about his other than what he’s told me. He didn’t trust me about the birth control until three months into our relationship.