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I wish that someone had warned me. I wish that we would have met sooner, and I'd wished that we had never met at all. I was doomed the day I met him, whether I ever realized it or not, and in more ways than one. I was seventeen years old and had never been kissed, the picture of pure, sarcastic innocence-my sweatpants-clad ass so at odds with those of the girls I was forced to sit next to in English class. I just didn't fit. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what would happen next-my lips untrained against his, warms hands on my skin. We weren't supposed to fit. The boy from the so-called wrong side of the tracks, with black hair that ended in ringlet curls halfway down his back. Good falling for so-called bad. We weren't supposed to fit, but we did.