No one would have found out about that summer if my stupid friends hadn't wanted to play Truth or Dare. Well...no one would have found out if I'd picked dare, either. But my friends are very imaginative and I didn't want to take my chances with dare.

Of course, of all questions, they asked me if I was a virgin. Probably because rumors were always floating around about me. For some reason, people loved to gossip about little old goodie-two-shoes me.

I could have lied, but that would have been the opposite of truth. I told them that I wasn't. They stopped playing Truth or Dare the moment the reply left my lips. At that point, they were playing "Let's get as many answers from her as possible."

So I told them about that summer. And I told them about Arthur. Sweet, adorable, awkward Arthur.

We were in the middle of our summer vacation. Honestly, I think Arthur just appeared there. All of a sudden, I realized we'd been staring at each other every chance we got. I was almost too embarrassed, but I struck up a conversation with him.

I was sixteen, and he was seventeen. The two of us got along swimmingly. Numbers were exchanged and secret meetings were arranged. They were secret because neither of our parents would have approved of how quickly our relationship was growing.

And our relationship was growing very quickly. We went from casual friends to something far more than casual in just a few short weeks. I didn't mind. Arthur was the sweetest guy I'd ever met.

One night, we were sitting on the beach together when he told me that he had to leave. I was upset, obviously, but I used that as a excuse to confess that I didn't want to just forget about him.

So we relocated and spent the night making sure we would never forget each other. I thought poor Arthur would die of embarrassment at first. But it turned out to be one of the best nights ever.

Unfortunately, I managed to delete his number from my phone, and the paper he'd written it on was long gone at that point. I double checked every unknown number that texted or called me, but it was never Arthur.

At least I'll never be able to forget him. Sweet, adorable, awkward Arthur.

He was eighteen, and awkward as all hell. He was sweet, and treated me right from the very beginning. Our first "date" was to the drive-in movie theater where he worked, while he was working so I wouldn't have to be home alone while our moms went out. He would give me candy and gum and little things to make me smile. We went hiking together, and then went swimming/cliff jumping at the lake. We would watch movies together, and from July to September it was perfect. Awkward, but sweet and perfect in the sense that I wouldn't change anything about it. I loved him before I even realized it.

But like all good things, it had to end. Our sweet, casual, summer fling ended September 15th. That was when his dad passed away, and our casual, innocent, and un-strained relationship suddenly took a turn for the serious. We were in a relationship for four months after that, until New Years. Sadly, that was the end of me and Lee. I still love him. He'll always have my heart.

i was walking at midnight. i snuck out to smell the humid air and catch my breath. and i walked past you and a group of friends. you called me over and offered a cigarette. i took it. you asked if i was okay and that you remembered me from somewheres. i asked if your name was sadie. you smiled and told me how much i'd grown. we were neighbors and used to play together. we sat in awe and eventually were lovers for a summer. what luck, finding you there...

We met at a bar, though not the way two people usually would. You see, she was tucked away in the far corner, suffering the bad lighting and the even worse house band. Normally, this wouldn't have been unusual, but she wasn't just sitting there, nursing a drink--no, she had her head in a book. And to top it off, this wasn't just any book, but an erotica novel that my good friend had published. And she looked like she was loving it, considering the naughty grin she had as she turned a page.

Personally, I love a woman who is more intelligent than the rest, and even more an intelligent woman who has an open mind about sex. This seemed to be both. So, I took a shot.

I strolled over to her table, sat my drink down (a rather girly coctail with fruit and everything in it), pulled out my 7" (tablet) and pulled up the sequel my friend had sent to me to beta (we frequently proofread and poke holes in each others' work).

She looked up at me indignantly, obviously annoyed that I would encroach upon her personal space. I looked up at her, smiled innocently, and made a very obvious swiping motion with my finger on the surface of my tablet. She huffed, acted like she was going to get up and go somewhere else, but then looked around at the rest of the bar and saw that it was not only rowdy, but crowded as well.

I made a show of going back to my tablet, swiping at the screen every minute or so. Finally, after I finished off my drink and ordered another one from a passing waitress, she asked me what I was reading. I laid my tablet on the table and took my drink from the waitress as she came back with it, and took a sip before answering. However, I didn't get a chance.

Before I knew it, she'd slammed her book down on the table and had picked up my tablet, furiously swiping back to the beginning. She demanded to know where I'd gotten the file, and so I told her that the author was a good friend of mine and that I was reading it over for him. Then she slapped my arm, hard. Unfortunately, I had been taking another sip of my newest drink when she hit me, so I spilled it down my front.

She looked both embarrassed and outraged, though I couldn't for the life of me figure out, because she was the one who'd assaulted me. She apologized, though, and we got to talking about my friend and his work, and I sent him a picture of her and asked him if he was okay with me letting this stunning creature read some of his newest novel. He texted me back and said if I didn't then he was going to slap me himself. I laughed, showed her the text, and she laughed along with me.

I walked her back to her hotel room not long after, and she invited me in for a nightcap. Apparently, she made the best vodka shot on the island. I said I definitely had to try it, and so she invited me in. I sat down on the bed and she went to the minifridge and got out a bottle of vodka she'd had chilling there. She walked over to where I was sitting, sat the bottle on the bedside table, and pulled her shirt over head head before picking the bottle back up and twisting off the top. "Ready?" she asked. It took me all of two seconds to realize that with no shot glass or cup in sight, this was going to be the best vodka shot I'd ever had in my life.