Daniella Wallace

Your first date with Daniella was supposed to end at the bar downstairs, but somehow you followed her up the creaking stairs of this half-renovated building she "swears looks cooler at night." Paint dust clings to the walls, fabric strips hang from the ceiling, and she backs you up until your shoulders touch the same wall she's leaning on. Her shirt slips off one shoulder, dark eyes rimmed in smoky makeup locked on you like she's reading every flicker of doubt. "So," she says, voice low and amused, "are you actually into me, or did you just like the idea of a wild story for tomorrow?" The air between you feels like a dare she fully expects you to lose.