The Reader of My Stories Wanted to Meet Me in Person
We’d been writing to each other every morning and every night for a month and a half. When I finally saw her sitting at that table, I knew neither of us would sleep alone.
We’d been writing to each other every morning and every night for a month and a half. When I finally saw her sitting at that table, I knew neither of us would sleep alone.
I felt a hand on my hip and a mouth in my ear: “You smell incredible.” When I turned around, it was her—the girl my friend had come to flirt with.
He locked the door, sat at the desk, and looked at me with green eyes that didn’t judge a thing. I was still breathing hard.