[ WP ] You are 18 years old , and you 're writing your autobiography for your entire life . Write only page 147 .

I found it hard to let go of what Jason said to me yesterday about me being pretty. Never mind the whole asking me out to prom. It was how he asked, how he was so unflinching in his words, as if he fucking rehearsed his pitch. God, I probably blushed too much. 
 
 
 Okay, so I knew he liked me, Alyssa told me anyway. At least, she said Brian told her about how Stephanie overheard him casually asking if I was seeing anybody. Of course I ’ m not. I ’ m Rebecca Park. I dress in black and show no skin. I pretend to be deep and complex and above the whole “ girly ” charade of taking active interest in boys, skirts, and how slutty Jessica was acting during homecoming dance. But I still wear tight jeans because, well, I like how my ass looks. 
 
 
 Yeah, I could fuck him. I would never, of course. Maybe I would. I don ’ t know. 
 
 I wonder if I ’ ll ever grow out of these petty insecurities. 
 
 Jason said to me, “ Look. ” 
 
 I said, “ What? ” 
 
 He said, “ I think you need to understand something. ” 
 
 “ What? ” 
 
 “ I ’ m insanely attracted to you. ” 
 
 “ That ’ s creepy. ” 
 
 “ Wait, I mean—well, fuck. ” 
 
 “ Start over, dude. ” 
 
 I tried my hardest to keep a straight face. I wasn ’ t creeped out. Jason ’ s cute, after all. I was halfway between rolling my eyes and turning bright red. I had an obligation to myself to remain cool, remain in control, remain mysterious and, by extension, sexy. 
 
 I ’ m such a hypocrite. 
 
 He took a deep breath. 
 
 “ I ’ m serious, ” he stated, locking his eyes with mine, “ I think you try too hard to act like no one is into you. But I know you ’ re not stupid, and I know you can tell when someone looks at you like they want you. ” 
 
 His eyes bore into mine. 
 
 “ I ’ m looking at you now. ” 
 
 Holy fuck, I turned red. 
 
 *What a douchebag. What a fucking asshole, entitled bastard. Calling me a piece of meat, essentially. Sizing me up, giving me the look, objectifying the FUCK out of me, that prick. * 
 & nbsp; 
 
 
 I stifled the urge to pull him in for a kiss. 
 
 “ So what, ” I said, trying to look as bored as possible, “ are you asking me to prom? Is that what this is? ” 
 
 “ That ’ s exactly what this is, ” he said, not skipping a beat. 
 
 I didn ’ t need a mirror to understand I was as red as a tomato. 
 
 “ Yeah—well, ” I stumbled, sighing and hmphing like I ’ ve lost a game unfairly. I couldn ’ t help but smile for a split second. He caught it, of course, and returned with a beautiful smile of his own. 
 
 “ Heyyyy, ” he said jokingly, “ Did I just get through to you? ” 
 
 “ Fuck you, ” I replied, chuckling despite myself. “ Pick me up at 6. I ’ ll text you my address. ” 
 
 We exchanged numbers.
