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The following story isn't true. I've thought about what happened too many times. I've re-played everything I can remember, including even the briefest moments, down to a flicker of an eyelash or a lip being licked, back and forth in my mind so many times now, that this version couldn't possibly be any more real than any of the other thousands of versions I've fantasized about ever since it happened........

I was 18. Shut up. Yes, really. And I’m ok looking too, I guess. Pay attention. That summer it just so happened that I was very, very, close to a guy I didn’t really know at all. We never talked. I hardly ever saw him. We’d nod at each other sometimes.

It was cool. The weather I mean. I liked to lie in the backyard on the lounge chair during the afternoon and read. Something different broke up my routine about a week before - since last Thursday. That's when I first noticed I had a spectator. I read in my backyard a thousand times. I lived there since my parents got divorced when I was 14. And I like to read. I like romance stories. I admit it. Other stuff like Anne Rice or even Stephen King was ok too.

When I first saw him watching me, I almost lost it. But I'm really glad I didn't. Everything would have been completely different. I wasn't sure at first, if he noticed that I saw him, but he did duck away and didn't come back. It wasn't until I noticed him again the next day that I was sure it wasn’t an accident he was looking at me. How long ...

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