Bohemio_Pat

Under my track pants I wore only fishnets and a lace thong. I wasn’t looking for just any doorway: I was looking for the place where they’d treat me like an object.

I had barely gone a few steps when my phone started vibrating nonstop. It was her, and she wasn’t going to let me get away that easily that night.

It was seven in the morning, I’d just broken up with my girlfriend by text, and my neighbor was still face down in my bed. I wasn’t about to waste the morning.

I got off the museum ship with my head spinning. That same night, facing the Pacific, a woman I barely knew kissed me like no man had ever kissed me before.

When I saw her walk into work in the same black leggings from the day before, I knew that day wasn’t going to end like the others. Not like I thought it would, either.

We’d watched weird videos on his computer at the office that time. What I didn’t expect was that months later, that same curiosity would end up on the couch, under the blanket.

Vera went to the pool to escape the July heat and ended up finding Noa, the lifeguard, waiting with the gates already locked and her eyes already on her.

I pushed the door open, holding my breath. He was asleep on his side, the sheet fallen to his waist. If I left then, nothing had happened. I didn’t leave.

When Sofía lowered herself into the chair and I saw her face twist in pain, I knew the flu was a lie and that what had happened was far worse than I imagined.

That night I understood that teaching someone to feel their own body can be the most intimate act of all.

I’d been ignoring his looks for weeks. That night at the hotel, after the pool and dancing with strangers, I couldn’t keep doing it.

The club queue smelled of weed and sweat. My flatmate squeezed my hand, not really knowing what she was doing there. I just kept thinking about finding him again.

When she shouted my name in front of everyone and told me to drive her home, I knew Sunday wouldn’t end with a simple goodbye in the parking lot.