Kennedy leaned his head against his guitar, wanting to scream. The words he wanted to say weren't coming to him. All he could think of was her, and the simple realization that she had led him on.

It wasn't like she pretended to be into him for a night, and then moving on to his best friend. No, it was nothing like that. She had suddenly approached him after a show he had played and said, “I think you're hot, let's do what almost couples do”, and Kennedy had fallen for it. The next three months were a blur of coffee houses and light houses, beaches and warm fires, beer and eighteenth birthdays for their friends, as well as drive-ins and music they both loved. Her name was Katherine Smalls, and Kennedy was sure he loved her.

She was a year younger than him, at eighteen, and the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had shoulder length dark brown hair that had long layers with bangs that cut across her forehead in a swoosh, with bright green eyes that made Kennedy melt, and smooth, tanned skin that was flawless in every way. She was short and thin, and she made every guy go crazy. She had scars across her wrists, and wore short shorts and skimpy tank tops that made Kennedy crazy. And most of all, she did whatever she wanted. She could walk across a party in nothing but her bra and underwear, a free for all, or she could stick by Kennedy's side and not allow anyone but Kennedy touch her.

Katherine was known all over Tempe for sleeping around, but Kennedy refused to believe it. He knew that she made boys go crazy with her beauty queen looks, and that her lips were in fact, irresistible, but he found it hard to believe that she would ever break someone like that. He loved the way she'd curl up against his side, and how she'd always wrap her arm around his waist. He loved the way she put her hands on his hips when they hugged, and he loved the way her eyes captured him inside her.

For three months, she had him wrapped around her finger. They spent nights curled up in a blanket together on the beaches at parties, and they spent nights in each others arms beside fires in people they used to like's backyards. They had run into lighthouses together, and they had gone to their high school friend's eighteenth birthdays. They had gone to drive-ins in Katherine's crappy Ford truck, and they had blasted all of Katherine's oddly hipster music through Kennedy's neighborhood. They had gotten drunk together, sharing a bottle of vodka, and they had admitted that they were attracted to each other in front of nearly a hundred people. Kennedy had fallen in love with her, and he had honestly believed she had loved him too.

Kennedy pressed his hands to his face, inhaling and exhaling quickly. He was trying not to cry, trying his hardest not to remember how much he had loved her and how much he had fallen apart. But to go back was the only way to go forward.

One night, after a show at the same venue where they had met, Kennedy took her backstage with their fingers interlocking. He had covered a wall of the dressing room with all the pictures of them, trying to make it as romantic as possible with the blanket they had lain on the beach with, lighted with candles. Kennedy had once and for all asked her to be his, his heart beating in his throat as he tried to be smooth. She had bitten her lip, looking up into his dark brown eyes with her captivating green orbs, looking like she was about to say something she was going to regret. Then, she had told her that she didn't do relationships, and had simply gotten up and walked away, never to see or talk or kiss Kennedy ever again, as if it was as simple as tying a shoe.

Kennedy stood, punching his wall as hard as he could, releasing his anger. He loved her. He had done everything he could to get with her, and she had just shot him down like nothing had ever happened between them, like he hadn't just gotten completely and totally infatuated with her, and like she hadn't been falling for him.

At first, he told himself that she was just scared to be in a relationship, afraid to get hurt. Which may have been true, but the only problem was that the next week, he saw her with yet another guy, doing the same thing she had done to him. She had just pushed him to side in the end, making room for yet another play mate that was probably everything she wanted, just to find someone better.

And that was when his heart shattered into a million pieces, and when he realized once and for all that girls do what they want, and boys do what they can.