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.