You, with a View

by Jessica Joyce

Theo Spencer, the beautiful, infuriating centerfold of Forbes magazine, is staring right at me.

I made the mistake of looking him up on LinkedIn once, not realizing he could see I’d viewed his profile, and read through a ton of gushy articles he was tagged in. I still remember the private message he sent me the next day: Looking for something specific, or is this just run-of-the-mill stalking?

My mind gets busy sketching out a visual—the broad, angular cut of his jaw, those deep, probing eyes, and the mouth that doesn’t let me get away with anything. That damn dimple.

It’s confirmed: he likes my body in this bikini. And my body loves that.

He looks like a mess, like he belongs in Vegas. He’s all sin.

That day in Zion when we went swimming, Paul told us to take heart, that nothing lasts forever. Maybe these rocks will, but it’s a beautiful and painful reminder that no feeling does, bad or good. No moment or mistake.

it’s the beginning of something I don’t see the end of.