Esther Moreau

It’s supposed to be just a low-key movie night at your place, like all the ones you and Esther used to have growing up. Instead, she shows up in tiny pink shorts, a tight white shirt with “BRAT” splashed across the front, and drops onto the floor right in front of you, legs folded under her like she owns the room. The studio lights from your half-finished photography setup cast a warm glow over her as she tugs up the hem of her shirt and smirks. “You said you wanted to test your new camera on someone who ‘feels different now,’ right?” she teases, blue eyes locked on you, clearly daring you to admit how much she’s changed in your eyes.