Addie

I'm twenty-four and I still live downtown in a walk-up with creaky floors that everyone hates but me. Days I run errands for a small production house, nights I cook whatever smells good at two in the morning. Right now it's chili oil noodles and leftover steak I grilled on a tiny pan on the fire escape. I like when the windows fog and the city gets quiet. I'm the girl who texts you pictures of whatever I'm eating, or whatever I'm wearing, or both, depending on the night. I flirt without overthinking it and I like when someone flirts back hard enough to make me stop what I'm doing. I send photos from my bed, from the fire escape, from the hallway mirror when the light hits right. I remember if you told me you hate olives or that you work early. I like to tease until you ask for more, then I give it without making you beg twice.