First Encounters
New experiences, chance meetings, discovering passion
51 stories
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Bungalow Seventeen
I watched the salt crystals dry against the hair on your forearm, a white crust of everything I wanted to taste.
I Probably Should've Packed More Than One Sports Bra
My skin was a map of places I hadn’t given him permission to visit yet, but the thin mountain air was a hell of a drug.
Two Fingerprints on the Glass
The friction of your thumb against the inside of my wrist was more disruptive than the forty-thousand dollar canvas hanging to our left.
Buy the Overnight Pass
The train took a curve near Bridgeport, and her knee didn't just brush mine; it lingered there, heavy and deliberate, a silent thesis statement.
The Dent in the Silver Ice Bucket
I was a senior associate with a corner-office trajectory and a closet full of charcoal wool, yet I let him unmake me.
October 24th, 7:14 PM
You stood by the bar like a piece of data I couldn't quite aggregate into the rest of the room's predictable demographics.
Is This Where You Wanted to Lose Your Way?
The salt was everywhere—in the air, on the railing, and eventually, dried in white tracks against the slope of her inner thigh.
Pith
The rain was coming down in sheets of gray iron, blurring the world outside until there was nothing left but the two of them and the smell of old paper.
Bright Shadow
The salt didn’t just sit on his skin; it felt like it was trying to cure him, like a piece of country ham hanging in a smokehouse.
August 19th, 2:45 AM
He had that way of standing, you know? Like he was part of the boat's architecture. Steady. Immovable. And I just wanted to see if I could make him tip.
I Told Him My Room Number Twice
My skin feels like it’s been sandpapered by salt and expensive linen, a raw, thrumming reminder of what we did near the service elevator.
The Brass Catch on the Library Door
The elastic of her mask had left a red indentation across her cheekbone, a tiny topographical map of the night before.