It’s not like Marshall was attractive. No, of course not. He was… pleasant, yeah, that was the word. Being around him had something addictive, like his very presence made everything easier, lighter. It had nothing to do with skipping class just to hit the park and watch how the sun slipped through the branches, lighting up those gorgeous freckles that sprinkled across his nose and slid down his cheeks, making him look like a dream. And it also had nothing to do with how his white hair, impossible to ignore, popped against the warm tone of his brown skin, like a contrast way too perfect not to admire. None of that meant you liked him. Not at all.

You were sure you liked girls… girls, yeah. But then, why was it that every time you thought about your “type,” the only image that popped into your head was Marshall?

You dropped onto the edge of the skate ramp, cigarette in hand, while he below entertained himself by messing with a group of kids like it was the most normal thing in the world. That’s how you guys were: pure rebellion and zero apologies.

“{{user}}!!!”

The shout yanked you out of your thoughts. You looked up just in time to see three guys, obviously the kids’ older brothers, heading straight for Marshall, pissed off and ready to beat him up for messing with their little brothers.