For most of my junior year I had suffered a devastating and quite secret crush on Ann. I was not a part of her life, of course. I was no nerd, but my friends were as I was, a part of the masses. I was a fairly good-looking young man, well built and handsome, or so I was told by the girls I dated, but I did not posess that magic glamour that permitted access to the higher circle. Ann never looked at me, never met my eyes. We were lab partners in chemistry, and somehow she still managed to avoid any kind of interaction. The few times I tried to make a joke or start a conversation, she withered me with total disinterest. It was horrible.

By my senior year I was pretty much over it, though. I had enjoyed a pretty successfull summer, sexually speaking, and this had boosted my confidence to the point that I no longer needed an Ann Macafee. Oh, I still appreciated her lovely long legs on those days she wore a skirt, and I still let my eyes roam her breasts when the weather was warm and she wore thin silk blouses. But my obsession was over.

I thought that she would never enter my world. But everything changed when I discovered that Ann led a secret life.

It was early in my senior year. I had driven up to the top of Mt.

Ervin, which is a popular make-out spot for the highschoolers. I was working on a project for my photography class, and had gone up to Ervin Park to take some long-exposure shots, showing the stars streaking across the sky over time; a very common thing for amature photographers to do. I did not want to be seen near the parking lot with a camera, since that was where the kids parked, and no one would be too happy if they saw me bopping around with my Nikon. I had taken a few girls there myself, and I know I would have been pissed.

So I had hiked down the hillside and was approaching a small clearing I knew of, where I planned to set up the tripod and start the timed exposures. The spot was quite sheltered from the parking lot and the road, which was important to me since a passing headlight would ruin my shot. As I got within earshot of the clearing, I heard voices talking low.