Young

Cris opened the fitting-room curtain half-dressed and I, instead of backing away, knelt down. What happened next changed everything that followed with Hugo.

I was fifteen when I heard that line. I never imagined that, on an ordinary night, my own father would make me understand what it really meant.

I agreed to help them with the faculty contest. I never imagined that in front of that mirror, made up and in that tight dress, I would stop recognizing myself.

That night I heard a low noise in the hall and pressed myself to a badly drawn curtain. What I didn’t know was that someone barefoot in the garden had been watching me for six minutes.

For months he’d pretended her uniform didn’t affect him. That afternoon, with her thigh bandaged and his hands trembling on her skin, he knew he couldn’t hold back anymore.

When he slipped his bare foot beneath the tablecloth and brushed my thigh, I knew the boy I’d been ignoring for weeks was going to get what he’d been asking for.

I handed her a blouse one size too small without telling her why. When I heard her muffled cry from the fitting room, I knew I was going in and I wouldn't come out the same.

I came to a luxury island to rest with my teenage son. I never imagined it would be him who kept me awake that stormy night.

Camila and I accepted the invitation without imagining that behind that door lived a family where everyone shared far more than the dining table.

From the monitor room I saw her open her jacket when she thought no one was looking. She had no idea her new guard had been watching her all morning.

I wore my new trainers on a Saturday morning, never imagining I’d come home with my leggings wet for reasons that had nothing to do with running.

When the lockdown ended, I had been holding back for too long. I went out determined to find what I needed, never imagining it would be three men at once.

The bathroom door was half open, steam drifting out, and she didn’t cover herself. She held my gaze as if she’d planned the whole scene for me.

Llevaba semanas con una sola idea fija en la cabeza, y aquel domingo en las gradas del campo de rugby encontré por fin la manera de cumplirla.

It started as a joke: putting on the pink collar in exchange for pizza. But when I pressed the button, I stopped being myself. Something else started moving my body from within.

My friend gently nudged me with a knowing smile. “Go,” she said. “He won’t be able to take his eyes off you all night.” And she was right.

I thought I’d have time to pull myself together before he came back from the kitchen. I was wrong. His voice behind me came just as I was whispering his name.

I opened the door for him to shelter from the downpour. I never imagined I’d end up on my knees in front of him, or that his four friends would come knocking too.

I had never gone down more than three steps dressed as Lía. That afternoon, with the white lace brushing my thighs, I decided I would make it to the street.

That first night beneath the streetlamp, with the cold cutting my face, I realized my androgyny could be a weapon. I only had to hold out until I had the body I’d always wanted.