It was the start of my sophomore year. I began seeing a girl named Jasmine. We met through mutual friends; we became friends ourselves, until one night, I found myself giving her head in her bathtub. But that isn't the story I'm telling. Jasmine was what I'd call "Stoner Hot." She was a brunette with bangs who wore denim pretty often, smoked American Spirits and had a sort of glazed-over expression at all times. I smoked...