My name is shouted on rooftops. It’s written on bras, on the inside of bathroom stalls, hell, my name is everywhere. To say my name is to experience an orgasm without ever leaving your damn house. My name is Zane Saint Andrews. I’m sex. I’m a rock god. I’m also…a virgin. What they don’t know won’t kill them right? Give the people what they want. And what they want is the idea of me; the pleasure they gain at listening to my song and knowing without a doubt I’m talking about them and only them. It worked for a while. Until a nerdy girl with glasses falls at my feet, literally, and suddenly I don’t want to be Saint anymore. What I want? What I really need? Is to be kept. By her.