Taboo Runs Wild
At least, that’s what I told myself.
I didn’t believe Kelly or Miranda last night when they swore college was crawling with hot guys. They made it sound like some sexy paradise, a runway of abs and jawlines. I told them they were shallow, that this wasn’t high school anymore—that maybe we should care about, I don’t know, our classes?
But the second I stepped into Weston’s halls, I knew I was the idiot.
Everywhere I looked, there were guys—tall, broad, polished like they’d stepped out of magazines. Girls too, hair shining, nails perfect, lips glossed like they were in music videos. Some were already pressed against lockers, kissing like they had something to prove.