Episode 1

Eleanor

Living in Cedar Springs was like breathing inside a glass box: you see the world outside, but you can't touch it. I was the perfect daughter. The only one who couldn't make mistakes. My parents always said I was a gift from God, and frankly, sometimes it sounded more like a curse. Daughter of the most respected pastor in town, raised in the shadow of sermons and appearances, I don't remember ever making real choices in life. They came ready-made, packaged with bows of "family pride" and "divine will."

Business Administration college? My mother's choice. Caleb, my boyfriend since I was fifteen? The church's choice. My future wedding? A combination of tradition, faith, and lack of options. And me…? I just followed. Because disappointing my parents was a kind of pain I didn't know how to bear. But the truth is, I hated all of it.

I hated the boring routine, the silent pressure, the looks watching every step. My days were all the same, and my dreams—those I hid even from myself—were always out of reach, until I decided to do something just once, nothing grand, but my own mistake, if that was the case. On the next church trip, I would lose my virginity with Caleb. Yes, that's right, it was supposed to be a gift, a surprise. He kept pressuring me, saying that we were going to get married anyway, so what was the problem? And, after much thought, I came to the conclusion that maybe this was my only act of freedom: to give what everyone wanted to take from me. Only by my own choice. I just had no idea that, that night, what I would lose would not only be innocence, but the life I had known until then.

Arriving in Chicago was like breathing real air for the first time. The city was everything Cedar Springs wasn't: alive, noisy, colorful. While the church group checked into the hotel, I smiled to myself, feeling that spark of freedom burning in my chest. For the first time, I felt good about a decision of my own. My plan was simple: Caleb, hotel room, a moment just for us, and maybe, who knows, the beginning of something different. But it only took a second for everything to fall apart. I saw him when I turned the corner of one of the hotel floors, returning before dinner to talk to him. The scene was as quick as it was cruel: he was kissing my best friend against the wall, laughing, both so comfortable that they didn't even notice I was there.

"Caleb! Calm down, what if Eleanor shows up?"

"She'll never do anything," I heard him say, laughing. "Eleanor is so afraid of disappointing her parents that she doesn't even have the courage to touch me."

It was as if something inside me tore. My heart broke in silence, like everything I did. I didn't cry or scream, I just left aimlessly, without a plan, with my soul in ruins. I walked through streets I don't even know the names of. The lights of Chicago seemed to mock me, all flashing with an intensity I never knew existed. And then, there, in the middle of the sidewalk, I stopped in front of a tattoo parlor.

I took a deep breath.

"Ah… they don't know what I'm capable of," I whispered to myself.

And I went in.

The place smelled of ink and defiance. The tattoo artist looked up, surprised by my firm expression—or maybe by my church girl dress.

"On the groin," I said, before I changed my mind. "Something small, delicate, but striking."

The tattoo artist quickly understood what I wanted, and it was good that it was a woman who would do it. I don't know if I would be comfortable with a stranger so close to such an intimate part of me. Before the needle started, I accepted a beer they offered me, my first. The taste was bitter, strong, strange. Like everything I was becoming that night. I was filled with pride when I saw the tattoo marked on my skin, and I felt alive.

When I left there, a small tattoo burning on my skin and my head spinning, I smiled. For the first time, really, but it still wasn't enough. I wanted more, I wanted to get completely lost—and not in tears, but among lights, music, and oblivion. That's how I met Sasha and Riley, two strangers who seemed to have come straight out of a magazine, or a life I always wanted to live. It wasn't long before we were laughing like old friends, with too many drinks in our hands and too much glitter in our eyes. They pulled me into a nightclub as if I already belonged there, as if the real world didn't matter. And that night, I surrendered to my rebellion for real.

"So you saw the idiot kissing your best friend?" Sasha asked, indignant, while throwing her red hair back.

I nodded, still half dazed by everything. The music vibrated on the walls, the floor shook under my feet, and the taste of the sweet drink still burned in my throat.

"And he still said that? That you would never have the courage?" Riley added, looking at me as if I were a war-surviving warrior of a holy war.

"Well, today you're going to show that idiot what courage is," Sasha concluded, handing me another drink.

The liquid burned as it went down, but I didn't care. The alcohol was already running wild in my body. I felt light—wrong, yes, but light and alive, so alive.

"You know what I think?" I began, my voice slurred, but firm. "That I'm going to choose the most handsome guy in this club and I'm going to kiss him. In front of everyone."

"Oh, yeah?" Sasha raised an eyebrow.

"You?" Riley mocked, smiling. "The princess of the church group?"

"The ex-princess," I replied, laughing. "Wait and see."

I turned and let my eyes run through the room. Colored lights danced in the environment, and bodies moved to the rhythm of the heavy beat of the music until my eyes stopped.

He was leaning against the counter, his back partially turned to me, talking to a girl who seemed to be more focused on him than he was on her. Tall, imposing, wearing black, with a well-groomed beard and shoulders too broad to be ignored. His face was serious, almost bored, as if that place wasn't worthy of his presence. And, somehow, that made him even more irresistible.

"That one." I pointed with what was left of my courage.

"Which one?" Sasha squinted.

"The Greek god in the corner."

"You're kidding!" Riley laughed. "This man isn't even from this astral plane."

"It's him." I turned my glass over, feeling the liquid ignite me inside. Without thinking, I walked over to him. My steps were determined—or at least they seemed to be, even with the dizziness dancing around me.

I touched his arm.

He turned slowly, as if he didn't expect to be interrupted. And then our eyes met, intense, confused blues.

I moved closer and signaled for him to bend down for a second. I thought he would refuse, but for some reason, he bowed, curious. His face was inches from mine, and even with the loud music, it seemed like the world went silent.

I looked deep into his eyes.

And I asked, without hesitation:

"Would you spend the night with me?"

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