At first, the encounters were brief, rushed, and fleeting—furtive, almost clinical affairs. It was something akin to what a cattle farmer seeks when taking a cow to a stud bull to ensure she conceives. In fifteen minutes—sometimes even less—the girl’s needs were met, and she would leave through the door of apartment 3-C just as she had entered.

The fact that the boy had a place where they could easily do it was a significant factor in her decision to choose this particular male. Had that not been the case, she might have had to opt for Keith—another available male who also had a place for such encounters. The problem with Keith, however, was that he was less attractive; that was why Ethan was her first choice. Alder was right when he said that finding a male partner was never a problem for any woman, regardless of her looks.

Stealthily and without making a sound, the meeting took place every Wednesday afternoon. Sometimes it was earlier, sometimes later, to avoid arousing suspicion. Many of their classmates lived in the neighborhood, so it was best not to do it at the same time every week.

Ethan attributed it all to the madness—now fully apparent—of his former classmate, who had repeated two school years. He saw it as one of her quirks, or simply a passing phase Emma had latched onto—something that would soon blow over and be replaced by some other eccentricity.

But in the meantime, he intended to take advantage of the situation. The specialist treating his sister—another victim of school bullying—had a practice in the big city, and the round trip took up practically the entire afternoon and evening. During that time, he would wait in anticipation, never knowing exactly when the girl might show up. He had completely given up viewing those adult pages, since he now had a flesh-and-blood substitute.

Even so, he kept asking himself questions. He couldn't stop wondering why she had rejected him—and rather vehemently, too—not so long ago, yet now, without any prior courtship, he suddenly found himself making love to her every week.

He had read on Instagram that women are ruled by hormones and are naturally bipolar—some more so than others, of course, a fact attributed to genetic and evolutionary reasons. For instance, as their period approaches—a time when pregnancy is least likely—they tend to be prickly and aloof, whereas during the middle of their cycle, when ovulation occurs, they come across as sweet and affectionate. It is an unconscious behavior designed by evolution to ensure the survival of the species.

All of that made sense and had a certain logic to it. But the change in this girl made absolutely no sense. It couldn't be explained by ovulation. There was no logic to it whatsoever, so one time—right in the middle of it, him on top of her—he asked:

"Hey, Emma..."

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you want anything to do with me before… and now things are like this?"

"Like what?" she shot back, barely batting an eye.

"Well... you know... like what we're doing right now."

She stared straight at him and, without so much as a smile, snapped:

"Just keep going and shut up."

She had looked up online the best position for conceiving quickly and safely. And, as often happens, the results were conflicting. So, during each encounter, they tried a different one—much to the guy's delight. He even suggested positions he’d seen on sites he used to visit, and Emma never objected. Of course, she never told him the true reason behind it all, so he always assumed she was doing it because she was just "a bit naughty".

Ethan never suspected a thing, even though he sometimes came close to the subject. Another day, right in the middle of it, he said:

"Hey, Emma..."

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking..."

He paused and looked her in the eye.

"What?" she urged.

"Well... like... what if I get you pregnant?" he finally asked.

Once again, she studied him for a moment and, barely smiling, snapped:

"Just keep going and shut up."

As things stood, he had found a more-than-decent outlet for the natural desire every teenager has to get lucky. He had to make the most of the streak while it lasted—before Emma moved past that particular phase of her bipolar disorder. And, naturally, while the house was empty during those hours. Perhaps one day—for one reason or another—that Wednesday would be the last...

Fortunately for him, his sister kept attending the behavioral therapy sessions she needed, and his parents continued taking her to the big city every week. Meanwhile, Emma didn't seem to be losing interest; quite the opposite. In fact, as time went on, the relationship matured... and solidified.

Indeed, as the encounters unfolded, her perception of what she was doing began to shift. Little by little, she felt desired; she felt a woman, and the encounters grew longer in time. Gradually, those brief meetings—once lasting barely fifteen minutes with hardly a word spoken or a laugh shared—expanded to fill almost the entire afternoon.

Things changed by degrees. Now they chatted, laughed, and played... they caressed and embraced one another, sharing deep, passionate kisses that culminated in intense moments of mutual fulfillment. They knew each other’s bodies perfectly by then, and from that intimacy, they reached sublime heights of joy and pleasure.

Love blossomed—true love, in all its splendor. That initial act—animalistic, instinctive, and visceral—transformed into something far greater; something deeply human, expansive, and conscious—something that illuminated the lives of those young lovers.

Oh, love! It is the balm that heals every wound, the soothing salve that softens life’s hardships, the antiseptic that wards off every ill. In its presence, pain and sorrow vanish; suffering is eased and becomes a gentle companion.

Love... teenagers love, brimming with magic, dreams, and hope—sometimes with intrigue, and always with a touch of defiance. Love born in narrow hallways, in glances that meet and linger; in small hearts racing fast; in young souls that no longer care to hide their feelings. Youngsters discovering they are children no longer, suddenly bursting into the real world.

Love found in scribbled notebooks and written messages read over a hundred times; in hands brushing against one another as if the very world might ignite from that single touch. A clumsy yet brave love—a promise and a blaze—a love that discovers the other person is a universe.

A love that holds both the smallest fears and the grandest dreams. A love that fits into a song, a summer afternoon, or a shared silence that feels eternal.

Teenagers love, celebrated for what it was and for the lessons it taught without even trying; for the way it makes you feel that anything is possible and that nothing hurts too much... when you achieve the impossible.