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Independence Isn't Everything

Adam paid the cab driver and handed me my jacket. He kept finding ways to touch me—sitting too close in the cab, brushing my shoulder when he passed me, brushing my fingers when he handed me things. And whenever my hands were free, he’d slyly slip his fingers through mine. It wasn’t that I minded, so much as I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. We weren’t a couple, not yet, and acting as if we were might set us up for heartbreak if things didn’t work as planned.

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Mistaken Identity

Victoria was laser-focused, her natural-given lie detector telling her the junk I was spewing wasn’t even close to the truth. Her...


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