Bad Girl Good Guy
People call me a bad girl. And not for the reason you think... Okay, maybe it is the reason you think. I got my reputation for the first time in the Summer going into 9th grade. I had it all good grades, perfect boyfriend, Jonathan, (note to self; mexican boys are muy `caliente, but will break your heart faster then you can say `te amo) I was the most popular girl in the whole school (that still hasn't changed) Jonthan came over the second day of summer break. I had just finished getting ready. Half of my mid-back straight dark brown hair hung over my right shoulder. I had just gotten caramel high lights and I wanted him to notice. I was wearing my new white Hollister shorts and a flower print flowing belly shirt. I thought the colors made my tan skin pop and my light green eyes sparkle. I always looked my best when I knew Jonathan would see me. He had called me and told me he needed to come over for something so of course I had to get ready. Jonathan always for his hair gelled to perfection in amaaazingly hot short, mohawk. He had beautiful caramel eyes and when he looked at me my brain got all fuzzy and I swore I could always feel my insides drip like melted chocolate. I heard 6 knocks on the door and threw it open and there he stood. He wore tan cargos and a black Nike shirt that said 'Every Damn Day". He had the snapback bulls snapback I bought him just a month ago for his 14th birthday in his right hand. He was my everything and I was his Angel. I flung myself on him almost knocking us both to the ground, he stumbled a bit then regained his footing. He stood there limp as i clung to him like a maniac. He pulled my arms off of him. "Nikki we need to talk"