Melanie Hicks: Stunning Must-Have Best Story

So Melanie Hicks and I had this thing a while back that I still think about when I’m trying to fall asleep, and it started as one of those lazy afternoons where neither of us had anywhere to be. She was wearing this thin robe, hair still damp, and we ended up on the couch with her friend—a brunette with this quiet laugh—and somehow the three of us just stopped pretending we weren’t looking at each other. Melanie kissed me first, slow, then turned and pulled her friend in by the wrist, and I remember the weight of both of them against my chest, the warmth, the way the robe slipped off one shoulder and neither of us bothered to fix it. It wasn’t rushed. It was hands and breath and the soft sound of someone shifting closer, all of us figuring it out together, her blonde hair against the brunette’s dark waves, mouths finding skin, the room going hazy and golden. When it finally built to that final moment, it felt less like a finish and more like a slow exhale, all three of us tangled and quiet, and I lay there afterward thinking I’d never been that close to anyone before.