Forty Five

There was this guy, my senior in high school. He was tall, popular, with a smile brighter than my future, chock full of boyish charm and endless flirtation. He was smart and outgoing, fun-loving and sweet. At some point, I had a bit of crush. I found my eyes searching for him in every crowd down every hallway, at the cafeteria, and even outside school. He had a face that I would picture when I had my hand down my pants in my bedroom, biting my lip for fear of letting slip any unsavoury sounds, only separated from my parents by a paper-thin wall and a door with a broken lock.

He wasn't my first crush, but he was the first that actually looked back.

And he was the kind of guy that could have literally anyone he wanted, but out of everyone, he chose to have me.

The moment I started to get just that little bit of attention, I was already on cloud nine, swooning, hoping he would be the one to sweep me off my feet or whatever else princes did in those dumb fairytales.