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The Places Your Pronouns Find Me
The air in the bar is thick with the smell of spilled beer and the low hum of a hundred awkward first-date conversations. I’m not on a date.
A Gentle Question in the Dark
My fingers were still tracing the damp curve of her shoulder when I told her. The words felt like stones in my mouth, each one heavy and sharp.
Between Us, Something New
The first time I saw him, I thought, *Oh. * And then immediately, *Don’t stare, you creep.
The Man Who Sees Me Whole
The dating app notification buzzes on my phone, and I almost drop it. My palms are slick.
Shared Skin, Unspoken Maps
The money hit my account, a soft chime from my phone on the dresser. Three hours.
A Surprising Connection Over Coffee
I’d almost cancelled three times. The notification from the app—**Jake: “Hey, I love your smile.
The Lens Between Us
The light in my studio has a specific quality at four in the afternoon. It slants in through the western skylights, heavy and golden, thick as honey.
The Body I Waited to Worship
I never thought I’d be terrified of my own skin.
Between the Lines of Us
The words had been practicing somersaults in my throat for weeks, rehearsing their debut in the quiet moments when Mara and I passed each other in the hallway or lay parallel in the dark, not quite...
The vacation fling doesn't know,...
The salt on my lips was the first real thing I’d felt in months. Not metaphorical salt from tears I was too numb to cry, but actual Mediterranean salt, carried on a warm breeze that rustled the sk...
The Care We Give in Secret
The circle of folding chairs was a familiar constellation, the fluorescent lights humming a flat, indifferent song. Leo watched the steam curl from his mug of terrible coffee, the paper cup soft a...
Her Obedience, Her Truth
The first time I saw her, she was wearing black leather gloves and reading a paperback with the spine cracked so deeply it looked like it might give up its pages. The lounge of the orbital cruiser...
A Touch That Knows Every Transition
The city was a hushed whisper beneath our fifteenth-floor window, the Hudson a black mirror catching the last ember of sunset. I stood at the glass in the silk robe Elena had laid out for me—champ...
The Groom Who Glowed for Me
I keep touching the inside of my wrist where the new hairs lie soft and dark, proof that the testosterone is doing its work. Tonight I’m supposed to feel like a king—my own bachelor party—but the ...
Where Your Gentle Touch Finds Me
The first time she asked to touch me, I said no. Not because I didn't want her hands on my skin—God, I did—but because I'd spent years perfecting the art of disappearance, of being touched without...