"So you lost your virginity, he broke up with you, and now the whole school knows," Sandra summarized after I told my pitiful story. "Big deal."

The crisis happened back in my sophomore year, and my three closest friends were gathered in my bedroom for an emergency intervention. I had declared that I was going to drop out of school, move to New York and start a career in fashion in order to put all the ugliness behind.

"That's not a big deal?" I sat up from my bed. "Tell me a bigger deal that has happened in your life."

"I'm just saying, what's done is done. Let's focus on the positive here." Her wide-set blue eyes turned a shade brighter, the way they always did right before she said something she thought clever. "First off, at least he's not lying. Secondly, there are far worse things to lose than a v-card."

"Such as?"

"Your heart," Carmen chipped in. She transferred here at the beginning of the semester and I immediately recruited her into our little clique. I figured our gang needed some good virtue, since Sandra was mean, Janet was cynical, and I was (adorably) vain, but Carmen could be so boring sometimes. She sounded like a Hallmark card, and I don't mean the funny kind. "And it'd be worse to lose your confidence. Your faith in love. Your willingness to put yourself out there and-"

I groaned to cut her off just as Janet added, "Or your brand new Kelly bag."

My eyes fell on the ten-thousand-dollar Hermès bag my parents just got me as a sixteen-year-old birthday present, but partly it was because they felt sorry for me when they heard that Max dumped me.

That was the way my family dealt with relationship crisis, by the way.

"That really is a gorgeous bag," Sandra said. "Think of all the poor girls out there, who had their hearts broken without a Kelly to console them."

To be fair I didn't really feel heartbroken. It was more like humiliation. I, Flora Morgan, the master of the divine art of dating, had been defeated at my own game in the most mortifying way imaginable.

My brother Jeremy always told me that with me, what you see is what you get. I had already put my best feature out there and saved people the time of exploring. My looks. He said it was the only interesting thing about me, and mind you, Jeremy was actually the nicer one of my two older brothers.

I knew I was beautiful. All through my childhood years and into the awkward teenagehood, I managed to escape the oily skin, the sprouting acnes and whatever it was that people battled with. Between my parents' wealth and my own image, I pretty much always got what I wanted, be it popularity, friends, special favors, and anything they sold at Neiman Marcus. That doesn't mean I was your stereotypical mean girl, though; ask anyone and they'd tell you that I was Goodwill Ambassador of Riverside High.

I adored mankind. I liked people and I talked to everyone.

So it wasn't hard to imagine that guys were never much of a problem for me. Even if beauty was the only interesting thing about me, it sure appeared to be interesting enough. I dated around but never really settled, and I quickly discovered the fun in switching and...well, sampling. I got distracted easily whenever a new guy came on the scene, kind of like the way a new eyeshadow color might catch my attention, and like a new eyeshadow, I always tried them on. Boys are like breakfast buffet; you want to taste some freshly baked patisserie here and a little bit of cheese omelette there. You just don't stuff your face with plain toasts alone and call it a morning.

It was so effortless to get them to like me. Most of the time, anyway. Max was a senior and captain of the football team, and at the time I thought I might as well do it with him because I figured he was as good as they come. I didn't expect him to broadcast it, though.

He was a bump in the road, a particularly dark time in my prestigious dating career, but I'd always known that he would be insignificant as he faded out with time.

After all, if they were to make my life into a movie, Max would probably just show up on the cast list at the bottom, under jerk#2. I knew who I'd cast for the bigger part, although I wasn't sure how the movie would end yet, so it was either love of my life or the one who got away, depending on the script.

Sean. Sean Foster.

There are two kinds of attraction: the instant kind, where at first sight you feel like you are hit by something sharp and then you forget how to spell the word crush. And then there's the slow-building kind, like realizing the obnoxious jerk who has teased you relentlessly since second grade is actually your prince charming, especially when you see him in a suit for the first time at prom.

With Sean, it was without dispute he fell into the instant attraction category. He was this seemingly brooding hunk who I remember catching sight of during the first week of school. Back then, even as a freshman he had this detached, uninterested expression on his face, like he had an old soul, like he should be opening a bank vault instead of his locker. He pulled it off by being devastatingly handsome, so that he appeared more gracefully aloof than antisocial.

"Forget about Max." Sandra switched on the TV and interrupted my thoughts. "At least you still have Sean."

I didn't have Sean, at least not yet, but a girl can dream, right?

Sandra was the only one who stayed the night with me. She rented Sex and the City and we watched Carrie fall in and out of love with Mr. Big for about half a dozen times before they finally ended up together, constituting a fabulous Manhattan-style fairytale-with a pair of blue Manolo Blahnik to replace the glass slippers. I knew Sandra meant to tell me that sex wasn't such a big deal, that the last love was much more important than the first time.

"Who cares who Carrie lost it to, right? The point is you end up with Mr. Big."

"Sean is my Mr. Big," I followed her cue.

She shrugged. "You don't know that."

Oh, but I do. Sean and I would fit very well together, just like in fashion, grey goes wonderfully with pink. I could feel it in my bones, but I was in no hurry. What was mine would be mine eventually.

"So is Max any good?" I bet Sandra was dying to ask, but she had the decency to wait until I had recovered partially from the initial shock of getting dumped right after losing it.

"Well...the first few seconds were really uncomfortable."

"And then?" There was hope in her voice. Sandra was curious about sex but was very cautious about taking it past second base.

"And then it's over." We looked at each other and laughed. "The only good thing about sex is that it doesn't take much time. It's completely overrated." Seriously, it took less time than fishing out my credit card and waiting for the receipt to print out.

"Now that it's over, you should be celebrating instead of freaking out." Sandra started to gorge on a whole carton of Ben and Jerry's with me, and that was when I knew she really cared, despite all her unsympathetic remarks. No one could make her break her strict-veggie-no-carb diet except for me. She hid all her love in the unspoken details, which strangely made her all the more sincere.

She was my first close friend in high school, because I had done a quick survey and she was the only one with an acceptable wardrobe. I figured people who knew how to dress themselves should stick together. The rest of the student body looked like nice people, but unfortunately they didn't seem like they could inspire me, fashion-wise.

"I love your top," I said one day during study hall. "I'd probably lose the necklace, but the top is really great. I love how you pair it with the skirt and belt."

She raised her head from what looked like homework. "Thanks."

"I'm serious. Who made it?"

"What?" She looked a little annoyed. As if study hall really was for studying instead of exchanging fashion ideas.

"I mean the brand name of your top. It looks expensive!" I whispered excitedly.

"I don't think it even has a label. I picked it up randomly at some market."

"Oops. I hope it's not second-hand." I had the feeling my opinion was unappreciated, but I offered anyway. "But despite that, I think it clearly shows you have great talent in mix and match. You earned my respect!"

"I'm really trying to study."

"Okay," I said in disappointment. For some reason I decided I liked her even more with the attitude. Before cracking open my text book, I perked up again. "Hey, do you want to go to the mall together after school?"

She didn't even bother looking at me. "Fine."

From then on it was how Sandra always acted, like she was bored with me when deep down she was secretly enjoying the attention. That was the start of a wonderful friendship and at the time she didn't know how I'd become the most important person during her high school years. She would never admit it, but we both knew it's true.

I put up with her truckload of attitude problem because when the goings got tough, Sandra stuck by me. She was the one who pulled me out of my Max Depression by fixing me up with not one but three college guys, like she had them stored away specifically for this kind of situation.

Oh yes, and she was also the one who helped me plot revenge against Sean in senior year-wait, I'm revealing too much. Let's rewind a little and start from the beginning, because this is going to be quite a long story to tell.

***

Author's note:

In the media you can find a picture of Grace Kelly, princess of Monaco and American actress, as well as the iconic Kelly bag. (I know what you are thinking: 10 thousand dollars for that?)

I'm compulsive about proof-reading and editing, so please don't hesitate to correct me if you see any grammatical errors. I'd be extremely grateful.

It's not my intention to write a "likable" girl next door you can relate to right away. It doesn't bother me if you hate her, but if you could refrain from name-calling, I'd really appreciate it. This is only the first chapter, after all, and you just might change your mind later. Thank you so much for reading xx