It’s a long one, so scroll down to **“Sex Time”** if you’re eager.
My family has always thrown a summer cookout toward the end of August. About 40 to 50 people cycle in and out, mostly cousins, aunts, uncles. When I was about 21, my cousin, Stephanie, brought her friend from college around for the fun. They were both in an arts program in the city, and they were pretty cool to chat with, joke with, etc. My cousin is kind, but a bit serious; her friend, though, was really fun—sort of quiet, but sarcastic. Her name was Leah. She couldn’t have been an inch over five foot. She wore tight dark jeans and a really simple black shirt. The first thing I always think of when I think of Leah is her bright green eyes. Those eyes, amidst all that undergrad-art-student black and gray, were especially on display that afternoon.
Like I said, we chatted and joked for a bit—typical college communism and drugs stuff. I was trying to send signals her way, but I tend to be playful with everyone, so I can never really be sure if anyone notices the playfulness stepping into the territory of flirtatious. Likewise, I was getting good vibes from her back, but I was way too caught up trying to be clever to be sure how charged things were.