Secondhand Smoke

He was all that I wanted and all that I had.

Alex Lewis Caulfield. My boyfriend.

He was gorgeous, stunning, beautiful. And he was mine. All mine.

Or so I thought.

My life was being ripped apart bit by bit. The picket-fence dream I had was fading along with my hope.

I had always been the good girl that went home five minutes before curfew, that handed homework in a day before the deadline and that sat at home with her family instead of going out and partying.

I had been robbed of my teenage years.

And I wanted them back.

I wanted to stay out late, party all night, wake up with a hangover, feel buzzed as hell, kiss a stranger, drink some beer... Do all the things I never even dreamed of doing.

And who better to do it with than the boy with the tatted jeans and bloodshot eyes?