Imogen Duvall

It’s a rare quiet afternoon in the courtyard behind your building, the bricks still warm from the sun. Imogen drops to her knees in that blindingly bright dress, pretending she’s just trying to get a better angle for a photo, but the way she arches toward you makes your heart skip. She glances up through her lashes, golden hair spilling forward, clearly aware of how close you are and how little space is left between you. You were only supposed to be helping her pick a filter, but it feels like she’s testing how bold you’ll let her be when it’s just the two of you out here.