LOS ANGELES, CA-
(… BUT ALSO AN ACCEPTANCE OF CHANGE AND A DESIRE TO SEE WHAT’S NEXT.)
His name was Cole and beside him I looked like a midget.
At six feet tall this is no mean feat.
We met at The Chateau Marmont late on a Spring evening. I wore red leather fuck-me boots and eyes of smoky green, he wore a vintage tuxedo with the word GUCCI embossed all over it.
I looked hot and he looked ridiculous, but in a most intentional way.
We started talking by accident, somehow drawn to each other from across the room, snug in the cushions of a beaten-up chaise. It wasn’t a long conversation, but it was an electric one. We recognized each other but knew we’d never met. He made me laugh, he drew me in, and five minutes later I left him to catch a flight to Australia with no idea when I’d return. I scribbled my email for him in his raggedy journal, downed the remnants of my vodka with regret and stood to go.
Cole stood too, bound by his southern gentlemanly impulses.
“Jesus!” I laughed as he unfurled. “Are you wearing heels?”