My flat's balcony was 10 stories high, and above the highway. I ran over to the ledge and climbed over he rail. My hands holding on the the rail, and my heels holding onto the ledge. "Whoa! Love!? What are you doing!?" One of the boys shouted in an accent I hadn't really heard around this part of England. "Babe!? What ever you're about to do, stop!" A British accent shot. "Are you drunk?!" One asked. "You don't know anything!" I shouted back, not looking at them. The flat's ledges weren't far from each other, just about 2 feet (in America). The blonde boy had jumped over his flat's ledge onto mine. "Go away!" I shouted. I didn't want their help, or their pity charity. "Love, why are you being so cross?" He asked me. "You don't know anything!" I shouted again. "Babe, you're going to get hurt. Come down off the ledge." He said quietly. I was breathing heavy, and was staring down at the never ending traffic below me. Jump. Do it. You have no one. No one loves you. Your life has not meaning, Grace. Do it. Jump. NOW! I took one last, small breath before letting go of the railing. I was falling, falling so fast. The adreniline was incredible. I was flying. Then, everything went black. READ THE SEQUEL: A DAY IN THE LIFE OF ADELINE HORAN

Your eyeballs glued to his ass as he paced the floor in front of you. Your pen nervously tapping your desk, awaiting the ring of the bell. Your heart jolting every time he looked your way. You wanted more than anything to be his. But you knew it was impossible. A fantasy, too good to be true. And besides, what separates you from all those other beautiful women? All those models, actresses, and singers? Oh right. You’re his student.