With The Wrong Boyfriend

ing his uniform, his boots making a dull sound against the dewy cement. The streets were empty, barely lit by yellowish streetlights t

p by step. A shared laugh. A night with more complicity than necessar

mi

f the memory had substance

ombination. His shirt felt still wrinkled, impregnated with her perfume. And

he muttered, kicki

ears, greeting her with two kisses when they visited, sharing barbecues, Christmases, laughter. He'd always tho

of bills. He lingered outside for a few seconds longer to finish his cigarette. When he entered, he thought he saw Camila's shadow crossin

Her lips.

was honest, he didn't want to do it. His body reacted before his morale. It was as if a part of him had be

eeing them, frowning. In his other hand, he still had his cell phone, but he hadn't receive

e left his uniform thrown on the couch and went straight to the bathroom. H

kin as if trying to puni

idn't h

t wasn't just the kiss. It was everything that followed. Because Julián

lt with her... i

again. The way she had clung to him. The way she kissed him, without hesitation, as if she'd been waiting for him all n

rror reflected in his eyes

an uncomfortable clarity-that he wouldn't be able to forget her. That that night wouldn't

all: he wan

imself off without looking in the mirror. He

is waist, and turned on the TV without the volume. The lights on the screen flickered

at the hel

could try. He could pretend nothing happened. He could... yes. But he knew

magining it all, n

ere was a line he'd crossed. The problem w

ea began to grow. Slowly, treacherou

if it wasn't just a mistake? What if..

he wished Nico hadn't invited hi

e, he knew it would