Young

The rule was simple: no falling in love. But when Rocío sent me that voice note at midnight, I knew this was going to get messier than I wanted.

We had crossed a line from which there was no return. Standing outside the courthouse, I understood that what I felt for him was more real than any fear.

The deal was simple: if she made it to the garage without anyone seeing her, the reward would be unforgettable. But the building was never quite empty.

Sharing a bed with my sister-in-law’s boyfriend seemed harmless. But when I felt his body against mine in the dark, I knew the night would end badly.

She noticed it before I did. She took my hand on the dance floor and looked at me as if she knew exactly what I still refused to admit to myself.

When Clara saw the rusted lock on room four, she did not flinch or hesitate. She sighed, asked for their usual towel, and went in first.

I crossed my legs in his class and he couldn’t look away. I knew the game had begun, and this time I was the one with the advantage.

I put on the shortest skirt I owned, opened the door, and greeted them knowing exactly what they’d seen and what else was going to happen that night.

I sat on the floor with her photo and some candles. When I opened my eyes, I was her: her voice, her body, her backstage dressing room.

I sat as far away from her as possible at that dinner. But I ended up with my hand on her waist and her hips pressed hard against mine.

It started with a story I read at midnight. Then came the messages, the confessions in the dark, and a voice on the other end that knew exactly what to say.

I drove sixty kilometers to find silence. What I didn’t expect was a room designed exactly for my most private fantasies.

My friends never understood why I spent three months in a dead village. I never told them the truth: my grandfather was waiting for me with more than dinner.

Rodrigo had been watching them from his towel for a while when Clara gave him the signal. The empty beach and violet sky did the rest.

What that SUV carried after that trip could never be itemized on an upholstery bill. But someone would have to pay for it, and it wasn’t going to be him.

I closed my eyes beneath the blindfold and my father’s voice built every detail. I wasn’t in my room anymore: I was with Rodrigo, and he was doing exactly what I’d dreamed.

Sandra had never surprised me like that. But that afternoon in the pine grove, with Lucía and Marcos just a few meters away, she decided it was time.

I crossed my legs to distract him, not knowing that two days later I’d be on my knees among his books while the other kids left school without suspecting a thing.

I told myself I only cut past the lot because it was the shortest way. But when his eyes followed me and his hand brushed my hip, I couldn’t lie anymore.

I knew it was wrong, but every message from him left me wetter. The Saturday my parents went out, I opened the door to him without a bra.