I rode my bike past a half-naked boy on the lawn of a motel in my old town once in the early part of summer. We could tell by his beauty and the fact that he was actually reading a book - in fact, he was was immersed and immune to us - he was an alien, a foreigner. Jesus. I found out later I wasn't the only girl to imagine myself with him in something dark, anonymous, tawdry and shameless. It was summer anyway. We all were just plotting out ways to get out of town.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.