Oral

She entered the confessional to talk about her dreams. When she left the sacristy, she was no longer the same. Eighteen years old, she had just discovered what her body had been asking for months.

We’d been trading looks and brushing against each other at the gym for weeks when Bruno invited me to dinner. I didn’t expect what he’d ask me sitting across from him, with Nadia waiting in the other room.

A bet, alcohol, and years of friendship. That night, Adrián and Marcos discovered that some limits aren’t where you think they are.

I asked him to meet me outside the clinic as if we were going to have a quiet talk. I didn’t tell him I wouldn’t be alone—or that the sidewalk was perfectly visible from the second floor.

I spent the night unable to sleep, phone in hand, waiting for her call. I had staked everything on that letter, and I didn’t know if I had lost it all.

When Rodrigo arrived with “him,” it took me several minutes to understand that that perfect body and those hips belonged to a man. That night everything changed.

I’d spent days with that fantasy spinning in my head. When Héctor showed up at the empty court, I knew the night would end differently.

I thought the house next door had been empty for months. When the study light came on one night, I discovered I had been someone’s show for weeks.

Rebeca started dancing in the middle of the living room and I stopped thinking about dinner. Marcos watched us from the sofa, his eyes burning.

I knew them from when I dated their daughter. Years later I ran into them on the coast, and something in Valeria’s eyes told me that summer would be different.

That morning Mateo told me something was wrong down there, and without knowing it, he began the quietest and hardest week of my adult life.

When the flight attendant dimmed the cabin lights and left the thickest blanket over them, Lorena turned to her son and knew no one would sleep that night.

For years I’d imagined her without knowing she was thinking about me too. That Saturday she came down to the living room with a magazine and a question that changed everything.

I walked with my legs apart, loaded with a pain I didn’t know how to ease. When she came into my room and asked what was wrong, I knew there was no turning back.

The last time I saw her we were twelve. Now she was dancing pressed against me in a red skirt and with a look that wasn’t a cousin’s.

He was my son; he’d come back the night before. At seven in the morning I walked into the bathroom without thinking and found him in front of the mirror, wearing nothing.

I went up to see the new apartment and toast with cava. I didn’t come down until the next morning, with her perfume still on my skin and a secret no one should know.

She opened the door in a badly tied robe, heels on, and a smile that wasn’t a welcome. Her husband wasn’t there, and she knew it when she let me in.

I went barefoot to the bathroom and, when I pushed the door open, I saw him coming out of the shower. What I saw in that second never left my head.

We had been talking for three weeks without meeting. When I finally crossed the door to his apartment that night, I knew I wouldn’t come out the same.