VL. Virgin Lips. Remember that girl? She was so certain that she was in control, that she was safe behind her rules. She was so determined to avoid heartbreak. She never stood a chance, did she? I’d been that girl—I’d started the year hopeful and naïve, thinking that if I kept kissing out of the question, I could guard myself against pain and drama. I could hold onto the idea of a perfect kiss in the future, if I only protected myself from anything messy in the meantime. That was my plan, anyway. But fate—and boys—had other things in mind for me. It had been a whirlwind of a year, and I’d learned the hard way that you can’t control everything when it comes to dating. The trouble with dating is that it involves other people, and those people have desires and agendas of their own. Drama is inherent in the equation. Everything I’d been through and everything I’d been, from victim to victor, had brought be me to this point. The point where I could admit that life wasn’t under my control, but that I was open to whatever surprise it might bring me. And there I was, on the precipice of summer, feeling like life was about to bring something big my way. Because despite everything that had happened, or maybe because of it, there was one thing I still was: a believer. I knew in my heart that that kiss was still possible. You know, the perfect, magical, life-changing one—the one where you ride off into the sunset, happily ever after. I knew my dream kiss was still waiting for me.