Boychild & Girlchild.


Even before Wildchild, Lizzie was nothing to that boy. He’d swore to her repeatedly that he loved her, but he still sat there and ogled the Wildchild, jealous of her freedom and relaxed manner with boys. He wanted to be one of the boys whose lap she sprawled across, or whose lap her head rested in tiredly, just to experience something new. Lizzie wouldn’t offer it.

He was at a party, completely enthralled by the Wildchild’s hips swinging west to east, north to south. Eyes following her every move, he began to wonder about her name, about how he could introduce himself; he would not pass her up. He frowned slightly then, for the Adam he knew always knew exactly how to pin a girl under him, catch a quick fling… all the right things to say. Why weren't the words there for him now?