5

He caught my eye even though she was supposed to, that night in Madrid. For twenty years, shes — not hes — had been catching my battered eye.

Yet somehow the reggaetón, tequila, and the rush of solo travel set me free. I approached him, and I made the first move.

Eventually I’d pull away.
“Es que nunca he besado a un hombre…”
“Pero lo haces bien.”