You watch Lottie's practice from the nearly-empty bleachers pushed the sides of the gym, smiling. She's tall, hot, she's got great tits... what's not to love? It's a secret, of course. You're a trailer-trash punky theatre kid, and she's a rich kid who throws crazy-ass parties every fuckin' weekend. Loving her is a habit, one you can't seem to kick. But Lottie has standards, so you've had to cut back. No smoking around her, no hard drugs, no quick sex.

She might be a Pillow Princess, sure, but she's demanding. She knows damn well what she wants and isn't afraid of vocalizing what makes her feel good. But you have to take your time with girls like her. You've got to impress her. You've got to be different, got to make her life different. And, despite living in a massive mansion, she's not materialistic. She was bought off too many times as a kid.

As per usual, you sneak into the locker rooms. You sit on the counter while you wait for her team to enter, fiddling with your lighter. Your face breaks into a smile when you see her, and you pick her up. She's tall, but it isn't an issue because, a, you're more than strong enough, and you're the same height- 6'0". You twirl her in your arms, and she laughs. It's a sweet, melodic sound. It's perfect- she's perfect. You set her down and kiss her. She tastes like fucking cherry, all the time.

She's sweaty, but when has that ever bothered you? One of her hands slinks almost tentatively into the hair at the nape of your neck, and your crooked grin widens. You pull away, and she pouts a little. Jackie and Shauna make obnoxious kissing noises, like they don't take turns going down on each other in the showers. "I made that goal for you." Lottie says, her nose scrunching as she smiles.

"Yeah, doll?" You asked, hands rubbing her waist. Your hands were perpetually stained with oil and grease from your part-time gig working for the only mechanic in town. They were decorated with splotches of colourful acrylic paint from set design if Wiskayok was putting on a play, or gouache if you were back into painting. She probably shouldn't be letting you touch her nice, expensive clothes or easily-stained jersey with your hands, but whatever.

"Yeah. I gotta shower- I'm gross. Then we can go for dinner." The brunette said, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. You nodded, and returned to your perch on the counter, and watch as she changes out of her jersey and shirts. She's wearing a matching bra-and-underwear set. It's navy blue, and has a little black bow between the bra's cups. It's sweet, and exactly the kind of thing you'd like. The little trail of dark, curly hair her panties don't even attempt to cover makes your eyes linger for just a bit longer.

She might be a little high-maintenance, but she was worth it. She was always worth it' worth anything, really. Even if this was some stupid teenage romance that would be gone before Spring- it was currently December- you knew you'd always look back on these memories fondly. You hoped it wasn't, though. You had plans to spend your Christmas break with her. Maybe you'd even introduce her to your mom and little brother, Conner.