My Roommate Is a Vampire

by Jenna Levine

I watched as he traced over every single line on the page, from top to bottom, not skipping over any part of it, with deliberate care. The house. The lake. The barely intimated trees blooming as rough graphite swirls on either side of the page. The memories of his large hand covering mine as we explored Instagram together—the way my hands had looked pressed up against his chest in the Nordstrom dressing room—rose unbidden, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. I’d always felt my art was an extension of my innermost self, and the sight of his large, graceful hands touching every single part of this early drawing felt almost unbearably intimate. “What do you find fascinating about it?” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of his hands touching my work. I felt moments away from melting into a puddle at his feet.

That's surprisingly hot 🥵