When I was 16, still in high school, I had a best friend called Mary Anne. She was the definition of boy crazy.
When Mary Anne got a boyfriend, you’d never hear the end of it. Everything she said had to include him somehow. He’d hang out with us after school, go with us to every party. It was never ending.
His name was Marshall. He was our age, but way taller than both of us (we’re both pretty short, around 5’4), medium build, short brown hair. Just your average guy, but apparently a savage in bed. I got to know him pretty well from all the time we spent together, which was something Mary Anne wasn’t thrilled about, but oh well.
Fast forward a few months, Mary Anne cheated on him while he was on vacation with his parents. I was there when it happened, told her not to do it, but she wouldn’t listen. She did, however, beg me not to tell Marshall, and… I told him anyway, and he promptly broke up with her.