It was third year. Ugh. Finally.

You and Rj have been going out for at least one year. But you two *loved each other. Like loved each other. Only fifteen, yet you had a feeling you were gonna be having kids with this farmer.

Anyways.

It was the Christmas holidays, a week of freedom, which meant seeing your boyfriend. It also meant your first sleepover with him.

Of course, you were excited. Being able to go over to his house with a bag of clothes ready to have the happiest, cuddliest night ever. But sometimes anxiety came in.

Here you were, in the car, bag at your feet as your brother drove you to his house.