She walks down the college corridor, passing me and my friends. We went to the cinema last night, and nobody knows about it except us.
Her jeans are figure-hugging, accentuating the gorgeous, mind-blowing curves of her hips and waist. The tops of her knickers are just peeking above her silly sparkly belt.
One of my friends points this out, laughing openly but not quite loudly enough for Kathryn to hear. There's a fair amount of rage exploding inside me at that moment, but I decide to get my revenge in a different way.
I walk after her, casually put my arm around her waist. She starts, but recognises my lame unisex fashionable scent. She leans into me, smiling and going bright red as we announce our relationship to maybe 50 other 17 year-olds.
I slide my hand down her exposed side, and push her underwear back under her jeans. She shivers and trembles at this, the first time I have touched her in such a way. I cannot hear my friends heckling and calling to me - the sound is going into my head, but is not being processed at all.
She whispers to me: "Do that again" as we lean against a corner in the corridor, hiding to a certain extent what we are doing.
"Do what again?" I ask (after all, 17 year old guys aren't the most empathic beings out there)
"You know", she looks away, and puts my hand down the back of her jeans.
"Oh!" (I'm wrongly thinking she likes her bottom stroked)
"No, pull them. You know!"
I had discovered her underwear was an erogenous zone