Emma. Eighteen and a virgin. Not a popular girl. Pretty, but nervous and shy. Bookish. Awkward. Valedictorian. In love. Stupid teenage love. In lust. Obsessed. What a cliche. The worst is that she knows it. She sees herself clearly, while also feeling it. The need. The want. The puppy love. How sad. How pathetic. Falling for the football player.
Freddy Anderson. Football player. Popular. Not stupid, but not exactly smart. Handsome to a point of pain. Pretty to a point of perfection. A man to be sculpted by the greats of elder years. How many teenage girls had left their virginity behind for him? Because he smiled at them? How many adult women had considered if a night with him might be worth the jail time? He was everything she wanted. Everything she shouldn’t want. What a cliche, Emma knew. What a cliche.
Yet she allowed it to happen. Allowed herself to one of those other silly girls with him. Another stupid virgin talked out of her panties by his pretty blue eyes. His dimples. His grin. How could she not? How could anyone not? Face with knowing that he wanted you? Melting before his interest.