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I’d never seen anyone more beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

The way she moved, her easy gait, her confidence in every situation. She owned every room she walked into, lighting it up with her bright smile, her distinctive, beautiful laugh. I couldn’t take my eyes off her luscious, full lips as she spoke. I wanted to kiss them so badly. I wanted to kiss every curve of her, to run my fingertips over her soft black skin. To be naked and close to her, just the two of us.

I felt instantly shy every time our eyes met—we had the same university courses, so that was often. I’d sit in front at the front of the class just to stop myself from glancing up at her every few seconds.

All I could think was: please let her be gay. Every day I daydreamed about the two of us meeting at a party. I’d be wearing something perfectly stylish, the right amount of femme and queer. A signal to her that screamed, “I’m here, please notice me, please want me, I’d be perfect for you!”

Just when I was starting to despair that I’d never get that chance, I heard she was playing a gig at a local bar. Of course, she was a musician. Could she be any more perfect? It was now or never—my time had come.

I tried on every article of clothing I owned. A dress was too hopeful, a leather jacket too obvious. Red lips, pink lips, no lipstick? I almost didn’t leave the house, losing confidence by the second. But, as my friends tell me, carpe diem. Seize the day, I had nothing to lose. I pulled on my tight jeans that I knew showed off my pert ass, a tastefully low-cut shirt, and just a hint of smoky, sultry eyeliner. Simple, understated, and hopefully sexy.

The bar was noisy and crowded. Luckily, I recognised a few classmates, mingling here and there and clutching my drink for support. A popular university band finished their set, and I was told Tessa was up next. I found a spot near the front of the gathered crowd and waited.

The second she stepped on stage I fell in lust all over again. She was angelic perfection—in tight jeans, heels, a slinky gold top and matching glitter eyeshadow that made her wide eyes sparkle. She picked up her guitar and started singing, and the audience fell quiet.

Every conversation stopped as her powerful, husky voice filled the room. She sang about love, about missed chances and lazy days spent warming each other and watching the rain. She held the crowd in the palm of her hand, and as she started her next song she turned her gaze directly to me. She sang a blues-y ballad about loving a good woman—and sang it straight in my direction, or so it seemed. Actually, I’m pretty sure that was sung to me.

The room fell away. I felt like it was just the two of us, alone in a big empty space, our eyes locked as she sang to me like I was already her lover. My cheeks flushed, my whole body sizzled with rising warmth. I was naked and hot and exposed and I loved it. She could undress me with her eyes all she wanted. I was hers from the moment she opened her mouth.