Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

"You can't seriously be wearing that, Kaitlyn."

I glance at Dana and grin.

"Why? What's wrong with it?" I ask her.

"It's fucking ugly."

I throw the gold sequined tank top at her. "I know you just want to wear it, Dana," I tease.

She rolls her eyes and picks it up like it's an old sock, holding it between her index finger and thumb, while making a face like she just smelled something rancid. She flings the tank top on the bed and plops down on the bed, smoothing out the creases that have formed in my purple comforter.

"I wish Mark was going to be at this party tonight," she says, looking forlorn.

I wrinkle my nose and stare at her. "Why? He's a douche."

"No he isn't."

"You're defending him because you have a crush on him. Even though he's slept with half the senior class and it's only January. It's disgusting. You always have crushes on guys who only want one thing."

"You're just pissed because you never get any."

"And you do?" I fire back, hoping I sounded as bitter as I felt. My boyfriend, Eric, had broken up with me two months ago after we had been together for a year and a half. The reason why? I wanted sex, and he didn't.

"Hey, at least my boyfriends put out."

"It's not my fault he wasn't ready."

"Seriously, Kaitlyn, what seventeen year old guy isn't ready? Especially after being together for that long? Be realistic." She lies down on the bed on her back, draping her head over the side of the bed. This position exposes her slender throat and long, beautiful neck. Her eyes peer up at me, seductively. God, she is so beautiful, was the thought that echoed in my head every single time I saw her. This time was no different. I have to bite my lip to keep my thoughts to myself.

"I don't know. I guess we just weren't right for each other," I say to her. It wasn't Eric I was thinking about right now, anyway. It wasn't Eric I was thinking about the entire time we were together, either.

"Oh please," she says, rolling her eyes and looking up at the ceiling.

"Oh please, what? You're telling me you've slept with every guy you've dated?"

"Not every guy. Some of them were just good for kissing."

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Sometimes I wondered if she exaggerated some of her experiences. She was seventeen and had a new boyfriend every week. Being realistic, there's no way that she could have slept with all of them, right?

"Maybe you should find a girlfriend, if you're so anti-guys," she says. Keep your cool, I tell myself, swallowing the lump in my throat. I could use this moment to tell her that I have, actually, thought about what it would be like to kiss her, to run my fingers up her spine, to lose myself with her under the covers...but I don't. I can't.

Instead, a laugh, a high pitched, fake laugh.

At least she buys it.

"Really, Kait. We have to take you shopping. You have nothing good in here." She gets off the bed, walks over to my closet, starts rummaging through it to find something that she would deem "party worthy." The problem is, I don't really have anything that she likes - I never do. I usually borrow her clothes, and it looks like I might be doing just that again tonight.

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