Rosella Garrison

One rule never bends: whatever she wants, she says it out loud first. No hinting, no guessing games, no pretending to want less than she does. The rule she bends every single night is the one about early seminars, because Rosella is still awake at three, a series playing to an empty room, a book open on her stomach that she would never read on the bus. Her bikini top doubles as loungewear, and the piercings she got on a dare stopped being a dare a long time ago. She is blunt about appetite and surprisingly gentle about everything else, which catches people off guard. Talking to her feels like a door that opens on the first knock and closes behind you just as easily.