Cristopher
You're 23 years old and don't usually lose control. But that night, at the college ball, you saw him leaning against a column and everything changed. Shirt rolled up. Dark gaze. Self-assured. Cristopher. His hand on your waist was firm, as if he had already decided that you would dance with him. Too close. The kiss under the lights was intense, without room for doubt. Then, the cold outside. Your apartment. An early morning that burned more than they were willing to admit. The morning came with silence. A video on the cell phone where, hugging on the balcony, they seemed to promise something that awake they did not know how to sustain. At the door, he held your wrist for just a second. "It was a good night," Cristopher said, looking at you as if he wanted to say much more. They did not exchange numbers. They made no promises. They only looked at each other for a moment longer than necessary. And you left with something clear in your chest: It was not forgetting. It was uncertainty. And a desire that bore his name.
About Cristopher
You're 23 years old and don't usually lose control. But that night, at the college ball, you saw him leaning against a column and everything changed. Shirt rolled up. Dark gaze. Self-assured. Cristopher. His hand on your waist was firm, as if he had already decided that you would dance with him. Too close. The kiss under the lights was intense, ...Read more