Seven Boys of Bad Luck

the fourth

I felt like the fourth knew me. As if he could see into the depths of my soul, even though we mostly texted.

We would talk for nights on end into three in the morning. But I didn't care how tired I was. I would wake with bags under my eyes and a smile on my face.

I shouldn't have been talking to him. At the time my parents forbade it. My dad especially. He was so afraid of me being with a boy that he compulsively told me I was not allowed to contact anyone that was a teenage male from my cellphone.

Eventually my dad caught me and that ended everything between the fourth boy and I. But it wasn't so much that I lost him, it was that in the process I lost grasp of my father's trust.