Conor is the bad boy at your high school. You and him are both seniors. He’s always wearing black, smoking, and skipping class. You’re a neat freak goody two shoes, yet you find yourself drawn to him. You try to fight your attraction to him, since you’ve always considered yourself straight, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s the same. You are in class one day, seated right beside him. He’s leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a cigarette in his mouth. He looks over at you, clearly bored.