I didn't know if standing outside the door of the bathroom where Kim was showering was an inherently creepy thing to do. Granted, I was looking up at my ceiling, not trying to get a peek or anything, but still. It felt a little unnatural.

The words she'd thrown at me before closing the door still hung in front of me, waiting for me to claim them, though I desperately wanted to deny them.

"You had a lot of pretty girls keeping your attention."

It was true. I liked girls. A lot. And I liked sex. What teenage boy didn't? And, because a lot of girls seemed to like me, too, there had been nothing stopping me from getting with all of them. I was just fun for me. And knowing that I'd given a girl exactly what she'd wanted? That made me feel on top of the world.

All of that had changed the second I'd imprinted on Kim, though. Now, it was like all the desire and energy I could ever feel was channeled and fixated on her. I thought about her in every aspect of my life—when I ate, I wondered what she liked to eat, when I did Physics homework, I wondered if she was having trouble on the same problems I was, and every free moment I had, I wondered what she was doing—but it was when I thought about how attracted to her I was that I would go pretty much insane.

Kim was the most beautiful person on the planet, with her perpetually curved, inviting lips, almond eyes, and soft, flowing body. Every time she made her "oh, is that so?" face—the one with the single, perfectly raised eyebrow and slightly curved corners of the mouth—my heart would skip a beat.

It would have been funny if her groundless insecurities weren't so obvious. Why couldn't she see that all the so-called "pretty girls" I'd ever given any attention to were a vague blur in comparison to the way she shined? Really, truly, I had been the world's biggest jerk. Why hadn't I always seen her for the angel she was?

That was the state I had been in—staring at my ceiling and contemplating my douchebaggary—when the bathroom door suddenly opened and Kim walked right into my chest.

And so, I had absolutely zero preparation for her miraculous scent, which immediately engulfed me, or for her perfect, bourbon eyes when, without warning, she looked up and they locked with mine.

Is it possible to get drunk just from looking into someone's eyes?

I knew I shouldn't have kissed her. I knew that she was drunk, and probably couldn't have made rational decisions. I knew I shouldn't have taken advantage of the situation, but in that moment I really, truly lost any self-control I'd ever had.

If there had been any doubt in my mind of Kim's absolute perfection, it was permanently expelled mind as soon as my lips met hers. Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of pure bliss at being able to touch her freely. It was like every move she made was perfectly choreographed to drive me crazy, and after the first minute, I began to wonder how I could ever go back to my normal life. How could I look at her in English class and not remember how perfect kissing her was? How could I patrol and concentrate on tracking bloodsuckers when I could be thinking about this instead? If given the option, I could have spent the rest of my life just standing there and kissing her.

When she'd begun to initiate more, I almost completely lost myself. I knew that if that was what she wanted—really wanted—I would never leave the bed again. Since I'd imprinted on her, I had thought about it countless times—so many times, in fact, that I felt a little guilty about it. It felt like I was violating her, even though it was just in my head, but it was impossible for me to stop my imagination. I almost burst into a fit of ironic laughter when she'd apologized to me.

I can't believe I'm letting her apologize for almost giving me what I want most in the world.

Of course, reasonably, I knew it wasn't sex that I wanted more than anything. No, I wanted Kim to be happy, to be the happiest person in the world, and I'd do whatever was needed make it happen.

I glanced at her now, asleep in my bed, the most innocent picture I'd ever seen. True to the nature of the psycho-stalker I had turned into these couple of weeks, I decided that I loved watching her sleep. She looked like a little girl with her hair splayed out on my pillow, and her fists clutching the sheets tightly. Every once in a while, she emitted the softest snore and fidgeted a little, making my heart inflate to the point of pain. I was thrilled to have her in my bed, not only out of my selfish desire for her, but because I knew I could protect her here.

I worried about her constantly now, a cruel twist of fate, considering she had decided to cut me out of her life completely. It was a decision I couldn't fault her for. I definitely deserved it. I had been the biggest asshat to her—her, of all people, the one girl who deserved my attention the most.

Sam had it so good—Emily checked in with him constantly, letting him know when she arrived somewhere so that he wouldn't go mad with concern. I didn't even have Kim's phone number.

Once, after a particularly long night of patrolling, Paul had confronted me with a list of annoying things I now did as a result of my craziness. This included worrying too much, which was absolutely true, but impossible to remedy. I worried about her well-being and her health, and I worried about her getting into a car accident, and I worried about every guy she graced with her presence.

I didn't even know if she'd ever been kissed before this. She didn't strike me as the type of girl who had a lot of experience, but then again, I had been wrong about her being shy. I tried to believe that I was right about this. I preferred it that way. I didn't want to think about another guy kissing Kim; that made me want to go insane.

There were rumors, of course, about her relationship with Robert Williams more than a year ago, and I knew there was something behind it. But Rob lied about girls all the time –I didn't let myself dwell on it.

And surely, surely, surely she was a virgin. I ignored the nagging part of my brain that wondered what virgin would be so willing to have sex with a guy she didn't even like. She was just drunk. It would have physically killed me to know that she'd been with someone that way, even if it had happened a long time ago. It wasn't fair of me to wish that she had no experience, I knew—aside from the fact that I'd lost my virginity at thirteen to a camp counselor, she was a free person who had the right to do whatever she wanted without comment from anyone—but I couldn't help that the thought of her with another man stabbed me in the gut. If only I'd noticed her sooner. We could have been friends, maybe even in a relationship, and this whole thing could have played out a lot more smoothly.

As I watched Kim from a chair near the bed, I caught wind of a new scent in the house. This was clearly Paul.

He gave my door a couple of soft taps, and quietly, I told him to come in. He ducked his head in through the doorway and took in the scene: Kim sleeping soundly and me creepily watching her. He smirked.

"So, you finally got her," he said.

I scoffed. "In my dreams," I sighed. "Nah, we just kissed for a bit. Not long enough."

"That's it, huh? Well, that's good. It wouldn't have been right."

Our voices, though loud enough for us to hear, would probably not be loud enough for Kim to catch even if she was awake.

"I got her friend Ella home," Paul told me, and I nodded in thanks. "They were pretty wasted, man."

"I know. She wanted to go further that just kiss. She wouldn't do that if she was thinking clearly, right?" I turned to Paul with an almost pleading look. I needed someone to back me up on my theory.

"Wow," he smirked, "since when does Jared the Ladies Man have self-esteem issues about sex?"

I punched him in the arm, and he rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean. No virgin would do that sober, right? She doesn't even like me."

"Man, what is this, the '50? If she wants to lose her virginity to a rando, that's her right."

"Hey! I'm not a rando! We're friends." Paul have me mad side eye.

"You said yourself that she doesn't like you." It was my turn to roll my eyes, but I knew it was true. I really was some rando who just decided to make myself a part of her life.

And yeah, Paul's got the right idea. Don't make assumptions about her virginity. She can do what she wants. It still felt good to know that Paul thought she was a virgin too, though.

"Underneath her quiet girl façade, Kim's kind of a free-spirit," he said wisely, "so don't make yourself crazy with all the guessing. And I don't wanna get all mushy here, but I really think she needs you, even if she's not going to admit it. So…don't fuck this up."

Having been in Paul's thoughts, I knew that he felt an odd sense of responsibility for Kim. It bothered me; I didn't like him encroaching on my job description. But Paul had known Kim's mom—and had had a huge adolescent crush on Kim's mom, as a matter of fact – and had been there at the funeral of both of her parents. His memories of that day still haunted him, and now they haunted me.

"Her family really fucking sucks," Paul continued. "I talked to Ella in the car, and according to her, Kim's life at home is kinda miserable. Her brother is a douche, and her sister-in-law has a major stick up her ass. And they've got those two kids in the house. She's not…well, Ella thinks that she's never really had someone to care for her."

I looked at my hands, feeling like the biggest scum of the earth for the umpteenth time that week. I knew Paul was trying to help, trying to help me piece together the mystery that was Kim, but at the moment he was failing quite miserably.

"So just, you know, take good care of her," Paul said awkwardly, beginning to get uncomfortable with this emotional talk. "You're a great guy, and she deserves someone like that in her life."

"Thanks, Paul," I said, meaning it. Paul's personality never failed to impress me—he could go from being the suave, devil-may-care ladies man to a sensitive listener and caring friend in under two seconds.

"And I can cover your shift tonight," he offered. "You probably want to enjoy this while it lasts."

I smiled halfheartedly and thanked him again as he left.

Right. While this lasts.

I spent the rest of the night trying to predict Kim's reaction when she woke up in the morning, and when I grew tired of that, trying to think of ways I could atone for sixteen years of being an asshole.

Fortunately/Unfortunately, I am not a teenage boy. I can only guess at how the voice of a heterosexual 16-year-old guy living in the early 2000's sounds in his head. Therefore, I'm super unsure about this chapter, and I don't know if it should even be its own chapter at all. Maybe I should cut it and add it to the next one. I don't know.

This entire story, (awesome librarian aside), also feels really heteronormative, which makes me kind of sad and a little uncomfortable, but I don't know if I have the authority or imagination to write about a homosexual relationship. So many uncertainties.

I will say this though: magical wolfy stuff aside, if I could read thoughts and saw that this was what went on in a boy's head, I'd probably ask him to marry me right then.