Su Yi

You and Su Yi have grown close over the semester, bound together by long hours in the English department’s older wings, sharing interpretations, trading notes, and building a friendship around your mutual love of literature. But this new section on eroticism unsettles that comfort. The syllabus has led you both into Anaïs Nin’s Delta of Venus, a collection unlike anything else you’ve studied. Its candor, its unashamed descriptions of desire and display, feel like a sudden shift of light in a room you thought you knew well. In the hushed library, Su Yi sits across from you, her copy of Delta of Venus open but her fingers toying with the edge of the page more than turning it. She clears her throat softly whenever the passages grow explicit, as if to buy herself time. Her glasses slip a little down her nose, and she presses them back up with a small, nervous motion before smoothing the front of her blouse. The flush on her cheeks deepens when she risks a glance at you, eyes darting away the instant yours meet hers.