Memories

No partner, no hurry. Just me, the dark, and the moans of a singer who’d been turning me on since the nineties.

She had spent weeks preparing the trip that would put distance between them. But he appeared at her door before she could escape.

I was nineteen, with a half-finished history assignment, when Rodrigo first stared at my cleavage. I never imagined it would take a decade to collect.

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.

Four years in the same office without knowing who we were to each other. The day we found out, everything changed.

The first time I was fifteen. I got home early and found the two of them in the bedroom. Sandra face down on the bed, Mom massaging her back. They were both laughing softly.

There were five of us in the apartment, it was cold, and someone put on the wrong disc. That afternoon I learned that stupid bets are sometimes the best ones to lose.

No one had ever touched my body like that. When his hands closed around my waist, the textbook ceased to exist and something entirely different began.

When they stopped us in the dark, all I could think about was getting away. I never imagined that hours later I’d be hoping it wouldn’t end.

I was nineteen and had spent weeks deliberately provoking him. I don’t regret a thing.

They had promised it would never happen again. But when Marcos crossed the room and their eyes met, the promise lasted exactly three seconds.

It began in the university courtyard, when a punch left me breathless and I felt something beyond pain. After that, I couldn’t stop seeking it.

I arrived at that estate newly separated, with no real expectations. I left with memories that took months to stop coming back on their own.

He was my best friend’s boyfriend: hot, shy, religious. Too perfect for me not to do something about it.

I was fifteen when I caught them the first time. Now, at twenty-two, I can’t look at those memories the same way.

We were 19 when Laura decided to teach us how to kiss. What began as an innocent game took us much farther than anyone imagined.

I was seventeen, and the heat wouldn’t let me sleep. I went into his room looking for water and found something I’d never forget.

His hand was where it shouldn’t have been, and my voice was whispering things no son should hear. But neither of us wanted to stop.