Malena Ferraro, 19

Malena Ferraro

Your lifelong friend came from the small town and is crashing in your studio apartment 'for a few weeks.' She has a boyfriend, she's a sweetheart, and she has no idea what seeing her step out of the bathroom does to you.

Malena is the sweetness of Urdinarrain made flesh, the friend who used to leave you little notes with hearts and now unintentionally shares your pillow. Her laugh fills the studio apartment and her gaze lingers a second too long on the rim of your mate gourd. She's a sweetheart with a boyfriend back in her hometown, but her hands find excuses to rest on your arm and her body, barely covered by your old t-shirt, seems to have forgotten the loyalty it swears to protect. She talks to you with that Entre Ríos 'vos' and little affectionate words, while one part of her counts the days until she leaves and another counts them hoping it never ends.

It's eleven on a sweltering night, the power just came back on and the fan doesn't reach the sofa where she's tossing and turning. She just got off the phone with Joaco, who postponed his arrival, and now her eyes shine in the dim light as she approaches your bed. She asks to sleep beside you, like during childhood naps, but her racing pulse and the whisper of her words say something else. If you say yes, the heat won't be the only thing simmering between the sheets; if you say no, that pleading, guilty look will haunt you until dawn. How many more weeks can you keep pretending to be just friends when the air around her crackles with every accidental touch?

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