Andrew, a twenty-six-year-old literature graduate, has been through more drama than many his age. From suffering obesity to arthritis, and then anorexia after drastic attempts to lose body fat, Andrew grows more conscious of his body. He shields himself from the rest of the world in a reserved cabin tucked away in a small town where he dwells in solitude and self-pity. But things can't stay the same forever and Andrew's carefully planned out walls fall around him with the arrival of his uncle's fiancee's son, Ethan. Ethan will more than disrupt Andrew's 'perfect' life. He'll also teach him the sole act of acceptance.

"Oh my God, Zara," he whispered, taking a good look at me. The insecurity managed to break through my amorousness. "I knew you were a beautiful woman, but damn, you're about to kill me with those curves." "I..." I wrapped my arms around chest, feebly trying to shield myself from his stare. Shame churned within my stomach. "I-Is that a bad thing?" "No, it's a very good thing." Gently, he pushes my arms away so I can't hide myself anymore. I sighed as his fingers drew little lines along the curves of my hips. "Almost makes we wish I was a race car driver so I could fully appreciate them."

I'm not a nerd. I'm not an outcast and I'm not the weird guy who lurks in the corner. I'm just a regular guy who plays soccer, hangs out with friends and has the biggest secret crush on none other than Micah Phillips. At Murphy Kennedy High School you're known by your identifier. Me I'm Everybody's Guy. It doesn't matter who you are, I'm your friend. Micah is known as the Homophobic Jock. Need I explain why it's a secret crush. In the story books I stay away from him and live in silent agony of not knowning his love... in this story here is what happens when the story books are tossed aside and he makes me The Only Exception.

One Direction Niall Horan Fan-fiction. •Completed•

'There. It's done. I can walk away with my pride and the knowledge that after sixteen long years, I've finally gotten laid. (It's a pretty awesome feeling.) Before I go, though, I have to check and make sure that it's Pamela. Because let's face it: A guy has to know who he lost his V-card to. And just assuming that it was Pam isn't going to cut it. So I put the note and pen down and slowly, carefully, creep over to the ball of sheets. I was right to check. There's a tuft of white blonde hair sticking out from the top. Pamela's hair is auburn. The girl's hair is sort of short, I guess, but oh well. I slowly, carefully, lift a sheet, just to catch a glimpse of the person beneath... ...to see a guy. Looking at me calmly.'