A/N: If you hadn't already guessed from the title, this story will contain some inappropriate relationships. So don't say I didn't warn you…

You can never resist what you can't have…

I. We're only young and naïve still

Drop-dead gorgeous, flowing dark hair, tight body, silky voice, you know the works. That was Cate fucking Sherman for you. She was so fucking perfect it was like she wasn't even human. No, she was some goddess descended to earth (or demon ascended from hell) to make Tyler's life a living hell.

He tried to ignore her in school, but ignoring Cate Sherman was like trying to ignore the brand-new Maserati in the driveway or his father's latest similarly European-imported young girlfriend. Tyler watched Cate's every movie, saw the way her chin rested on her delicate hand during classes, the way she sauntered down the hallway, the way she sipped her tea in the cafeteria. Of course, Tyler was so far out of Cate's social orbit that ever crossing paths or, God forbid, speaking to her was completely out of the question. Sure, he fantasized about encounters with her and dreamed about her noticing him, but mostly Tyler was content to lust after her from afar.

But fuck, the sexual frustration was getting kind of hard to handle. There were only so many times he could rush home after school and hop into a frigid shower…

II. We require certain skills

Try having an older sister who always did everything right. Try having parents too wrapped up in their own little worlds to ever notice their youngest daughter. Try being the baby of the family, the one no one remembered.

Now peer out the window…

Try spying on your older sister and her boyfriend. Try watching enviously as they made out in the driveway. Try imagining what it'd be like to be her, to have him up against you.

Try deciding to seduce your older sister's boyfriend.

III. The mood it changes like the wind

He hated her. She waltzed about the school like she owned the place, flipping her long hair over her shoulders, giggling with her friends, that supercilious look in her eyes. He saw her during class, her legs crossed haughtily, looking down on everyone else. She whispered gossip to her friend, a calculating glint in her sparkling eyes. She never opened her book, instead texting on her phone or scheming with her clique or flirting with some asshole. Of course she thought she was "too good" to study or learn or pay attention in class.

He had gone to high school with girls like her. They thought they were better than everyone else. And oh how they had tormented him. He had been just another geek, a nerd, the guy who actually did his homework on time, foreign concept, right? They mocked him relentlessly. He could hear, no, he could feel their harsh whispers during class.

She was no different from them. Same story, a decade younger. He tried not to let his revulsion show when he looked at her but it was hard. Even harder because she was his student. Teachers weren't supposed to hate their students.

He satisfied himself with making little digs at her in front of the class, tearing her down when she didn't know the answer, calling her up to the board as she passed a note to her boyfriend. She might act innocently, but he knew girls like her. He had been tormented by them for years. But not anymore. No, now he was getting his revenge.

IV. Hard to control when it begins

Gym class. It was always fucking gym class that got her. She'd be having a perfectly lovely day and then it would be fourth period and off to the locker room. Everyone knew that the boys' locker room smelled like a toxic waste landfill, but the girls' was actually quite nice. It smelled of shampoo and lotion and perfume and all sorts of fruity flowery scents. As if that weren't enough sensory overload. No, apparently not, because Alison Parrish would slide off her little skirt and her ruffled blouse and it was just too damn much. She knew she shouldn't look at Alison like that but sometimes, sometimes she just couldn't look away.

V. The bittersweet between my teeth

Jude and Liney, Christmastime 1996. Two adorable toddlers grinned up at her and it took everything in her power not to rip up the stupid picture. Caroline & Jude, first day of fifth grade. He was hitting her over the head with his dumb Ninja Turtles lunchbox and she was laughing. Laughing, right, because that's all she could do. She was allowed to feel happiness and she was allowed to feel anger and she was allowed to feel boredom and she was allowed to feel hate but this…this was the one thing she wasn't allowed to feel.

Caroline slammed the old photo album shut and threw it across her bedroom. She hated to look at it, oh how she hated it, but it was necessary to torture herself like this. Necessary in order that she remember what the cover said, Arlington Family Album, and she just had to remember. No matter how much she wanted to forget – Jude was her cousin! Her cousin! She was supposed to grudgingly love him and be annoyed with him and joke around with him at family reunions. But she wasn't supposed to think about him at night, when she slipped under her covers and closed her eyes. She wasn't supposed to wonder what he looked like, what he slept in, or how his hair would be tousled from his pillow.

VI. Trying to find the in-between

Exquisite torture. Pure, exquisite torture.

That's what it was like to live in the same house as a goddamn angel. She was a goddamn fucking poem and he was the illiterate little schoolboy doomed never to understand its symbolism.

Alexander Thompsett was completely and utterly screwed. What other description could be used for the sort of schmuck that was head-over-heels for none other than his very own stepsister? It would've been really fucking convenient if his little adolescent crush on Alison had waned after she'd been living in his house (eating every meal with him, showering just feet away from him, sleeping in those skimpy little outfits just one door down…) for a few months. But no, it had been almost three fucking years and he was still completely and utterly screwed. Even more so than before, because Alison wasn't a little girl anymore. Oh, no, she had grown up quite nicely and if she kept bringing those losers home or parading around in practically nothing, well, Xander would have to move or something. Yeah, he'd move in with one of his friends because home was just not an option anymore. Not with Alison there.

VII. Fall back in love eventually

Little boys. Immature little boys who didn't know where to put their hands or what to say or how to do much of anything. Cate was sick of all of them. She was done with their hesitation, their clumsiness, their incompetency.

She needed something more mature. More grown-up. An older man.

And lucky for her, one just happened to come along…

A/N: Well. Then. What did you think? This is just the prologue, meant to introduce some of the situations our beloved and confused little characters will find themselves in. You review, I update, chain reaction, you know?