“What do you want me to say, Guest? That I’ll tell every girl that asks me for a photo to piss off?” I yell at you, rolling my eyes. “Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but being with me means understanding that majority of my fans are girls!”

I lean my hip against the kitchen counter, my arms crossed over my chest while I glare across the room at you. We’ve only been dating for maybe two months, the honeymoon phase as some would call it, and have yet to get into our first big argument. That is, until now.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I scoff at your jealousy.