I knew Justin was dangerous, a bad boy, a bully, a loner. I knew he was a bad influence, not a good kid. But I couldn’t bring myself to stop seeing him. My friends knew it was bad, hell, I knew it was bad. But whenever he flashed his smile at me, I was blinded by his beauty.

Justin was the type of boy who told your teacher the reason your shirt was too small was because you were trying to get his attention, when really the reason is because it shrank in the wash. He’s the kind of boy who lifts your skirt up in class with his pencil when you stand up. The type of boy who smokes, drinks, goes out to sketchy places at night. He’s failing school. There really isn’t much good about him. But he’s yours.