Ro was raised in Córdoba but now lived in Buenos Aires. She had light brown hair, slender, Elfish fingers, and high cheekbones. She was sassy, left my messages “Seen”, and called me gordo — little, fat one. I found her irresistible. Flirting with her was like grasping for knives in a warm, soapy pot, certain I’d be cut, unsure of when and how deep.
On our first video call, she wore a pale Robin egg blue dress with white cherry blossoms across the left hip and right rib cage. I said it looked good on her. She stood, pulled her arms into her chest, and spun around to the right and then left. The hem of her dress waved behind her.
“You’re adorable. I wanna dance with you.”
“I know,” she said, smirking and lifting her shoulder to her cheek. “We Argentinian girls know how to move our bodies.” She rolled her hips side to side. “You wouldn’t last two minutes.”
“Oh really?” I chuckled. “Challenge accepted then.”
“I always win.”
“And I always get what I want. You can win.”
We laughed.