Eventually, though, I moved on and began enjoying time with my family and friends again. And then, right at the beginning of my school year, I had met...Julien. Charming, exciting, handsome, and (typical) another foreign exchange student. Julien was from France, and was the exact image every girl imagines a French boy to be. His brown curly hair was always perfectly combed, his blue eyes were incredibly dreamy, and of course, he had a gorgeous French accent. I had met him early in the year and we. I bitched to Sylvia but all she did was laugh at my plightand told me I wasn't the only woman to get a hickie or fight off octopushands. Monday morning she asked me if I wanted to wear my new skirt andblouse again since my boyfriend seemed to like it so much."He's not my boyfriend," I screamed in frustration.I opted for my silver stretch pants and a pink shell top. John was allover me that morning as I made his breakfast and tried to clean up themess he made over the weekend. Not satisfied. More

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