This first part is Angie's thoughts post-coitus with Junior in Episode 1 of Season 1.



I am riding him. His thick dick is buried deep inside of me. I am rocking against him as I clench around him. We are both breathing heavily, in time really, and my small boobs are bouncing and he's got his big hands on either of my arms. We ride out that mystical orgasmic moment and then I'm settling atop him for a moment. He flops back on his pillow and stares up at me, trustingly, adoringly. It's all I can do not to look away.

"God…" He murmurs.


He is panting as he says four words I had hoped would never come from his lips. "Angie, I love you." At first I don't know what to think. So many emotions run through me, so many thoughts twist all up in my brain. I struggle to keep a straight face. Then I smile and it comes more naturally than I would have thought possible.

"Yeah … It's been a fun summer." I shrug my shoulders before I quickly climb off of him. I move towards the mirror in the small adjoining bathroom, grabbing my pink bra along the way. It's a girly item and I'm not particularly girly but guys … They like it when I wear it. And there have been a lot of guys. Junior doesn't realize that or maybe he's deluding himself thinking he's the only one; thinking I could ever settle down with one person, especially him.

"Ouch," he murmurs and I see his bottom lip twitch a bit as he lifts himself up onto his elbows. I see that in the mirror and immediately tear my eyes from his taut chest which has just the slightest sheen of sweat on it.

"Junior, we both know what this is," I say, looking at my teeth in the mirror, practicing a smile. All I've got going for me is my looks and my body so I may as well look at least halfway presentable. Its how I've gotten this far in life anyway.

"We both know what this is," I continue. "You go back to school in a few days."

"No. No, I'm not. I'm dropping out. I dropped out. I'm done."

Does my mouth drop a little in surprise? Junior was always more than a tad unpredictable but this is some sort of madness. No, it's insanity. He had a chance to get out of this shitty little nowhere town and he won't take it. Why? Because of me? Because he thinks we actually have a chance? He's so wrong. I can't be tied down, not to him, not to anyone. It's not who I am; not how I'm wired.

I can't help stalking around the corner from the little bathroom, back into his bedroom which smells of sex and his strong aftershave. "Are you insane?" I ask him. His face – his admittedly handsome face with that sexy butt chin of his – contorts a bit.

"You've never been," he points out to me, as if I don't know that. But my grades were never good enough and even though my teachers said it was because I never applied myself, I didn't believe them. I never felt I was smart enough to be anything more than what I am – a part-time waitress and candy striper.

"College is just another lame-ass pyramid scheme."

"They hand you a free ride out of this place and you just throw it away?" My voice is full of disbelief. And annoyance too. Junior can be anything he wants, be anyone he wants to be, and this little shit-burg is what he chooses instead. I am envious that he could have it all and he doesn't want it. His next words shake me to my core but I again pride myself on keeping it cool. For the moment.

I start to pull on my uniform. I will be waitressing until two and then it's off to the hospital to be a candy striper; where I try to make myself useful somehow.

"This is about us," he says, staring at me as I suddenly feel like I'm struggling to get into my clothes. They feel like they're suffocating me.

"Please don't," I beg. It doesn't sound like begging exactly but inside, I am asking him not to keep going, not to tell me he loves me again, not to act like I could even begin to be anything he needs.

"No, come on, Angie. Wait a second alright?" He's smiling at me and I almost feel moved by it. Because he's so good-looking and honestly he looks at me like no one ever has, like he sees me, like he gets me. Which of course he tells me he does all the time.

I start to grab for my purse but he pulls me to him. I am between his legs now and his hands are on my waist. "I've loved you since the third grade." Oh stop it, Junior. Stop it, I think. Don't … just don't go there. This is supposed to be a fling and nothing more. Why do you have to go and make everything so fucking complicated?

I try to avoid looking into his eyes but it's impossible. For a moment, I do, and I can almost believe I can be the girl he wants me to be; I almost believe I want to be that girl he wants me to be but the moment passes and rationality slips in. One of us has to be an adult here and it's obviously not going to be him.

"You're the only person who knows the real me," he goes on.

"And that's why I can't be with you." I sigh and wrench free from his grasp and slip on my shoes. There are so many reasons Junior and I are all wrong for each other and most of them are my fault but it's just easier to put it all on him, blame him and his too-intense, well, intensity, for chasing me away every time.

He looks devastated and his eyes flash dangerously. I tell him I have to get to work and that's when he asks me why I'm acting like this. Like what? This is me, Junior, this is fucking who I am. Get used to it and by the way, stay the fuck away from me!

I just run my hands through my mussed hair in frustration and start to stomp away. He grabs me roughly by the arm and it hurts as his fingernails dig into my skin. I slap him immediately in response. He just stares at me, half like a wounded puppy dog and half like he could kill me for that. Junior has always been this crazily extreme, emotional, walking bruise and I don't want anything to do with it. I can't deal with my own shit so how am I supposed to deal with his?

He rears back, pouting. I grab my purse, give him a warning look and then stomp out. The crazy thing is, I leave, but yet somehow I feel like something is pulling me back there – some invisible chain that I can't see but really wish wasn't there.