You knew Justin was dangerous, a bad boy, a bully, a loner. You knew he was a bad influence, not a good kid. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stop seeing him. Your friends knew it was bad, hell, you knew it was bad. But whenever he flashed his smile at you, you were 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.