epilogue

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"The fact is, a 14-year-old girl may be capable of agreeing to sex with a 49-year-old man, but she doesn't have the emotional and mental maturity to consent. It seemed to me that since I'd courted the attention that I was fully culpable. What teenager believes she is not mentally or emotionally capable of full consent? I thought I was an adult, although when I look at the picture of myself from the time period above, I see a child.

I thought I was the exception for these men, the girl so precocious and advanced that it superseded social norms. I thought that I was older than my chronological age.

It never occurred to me as a young sexually active teen that the adult men I had relationships with may have been manipulating me, that they had designs and motives I couldn't see from my limited child's perspective."

- Emily, XOJANE, "The Myth of the Teenage Temptress, Or Why A Young Girl Can Not Consent to Sex With an Adult Man"

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The scent of fresh ocean air surrounded Rhys and I as we crossed the crowded beach. Seagulls soared overhead and conversation buzzed in the air, meeting the harmonious crash of the tide. The sun was high in the sky, filling the atmosphere with warm golden light and causing the sweltering temperature.

 My flip flops kicked up warm sand as I walked. "I am so glad this is our last day here" I admitted.

We had been in LA for the past week and though it was great to see everyone, I was nearly ready to go home.

"Why?" Rhys asked. "I like it here."

"So do I, but I miss home," I said, "and our friends and Riot and Trigger."

We had gotten another dog, Trigger, an adorable chocolate lab puppy with more energy than I could ever have imagined. Riot loved her new little brother though, and they spent most days chasing each other around our new backyard. Right now, they were staying with Grace where they were being totally spoiled, but I still missed them a lot.

"Well, it's our last day," Rhys assured me, "and we're at the beach, so pretend you're having a good time."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm with you; I don't have to pretend. I just miss having you all to myself."

"I miss that too, love," he replied, tangling his fingers with mine as we scoped out a spot to lay our towels on the sand. The movement drew my eye to the diamond ring I now wore.

Rhys had proposed two months ago, a week after I graduated from university. I would never forget the moment as we stood in a private capsule on the London Eye, overlooking the twinkling view of the city at night. I remembered breathing out a rushed "yes" as tears brimmed in my eyes and Rhys grinned, standing and pulling me into his arms. It was a perfect moment.

Now that I had graduated, Rhys and I were taking the next step. We'd found a house in the heart of Cheshire that we loved, a two-story four bedroom house in the countryside. Since Rhys had graduated two years ahead of me, he'd already begun working at an advertising agency. When we decided on where we were going to live, Rhys was lucky to find out they had another office not too far away. I would be starting as a guidance counselor at a local primary school in September.

Everything was falling perfectly into place. To say I was excited would be an understatement. Rhys and I would finally be settling down and starting a life together. 

We spread our towels out on the sand, claiming a spot on the buzzing beach. Once I'd slipped off my coverup and we lathered one another in sunscreen, we headed for the water. The waves were a perfect blue, crested with white foam. The tide swept towards the golden sand, then rushed away, leaving seaweed and seashells in its wake.

Numbers || Andy BiersackWhere stories live. Discover now