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I spent a whole hour fixing my hair the first time I went to my church's youth group. Why am I even going? I fretted as I struggled to get my hair to look half decent. I don't really have any friends there. But I figured it was better than sitting around the house or doing homework. So I jerked a comb through my hair one more time, hollered "I'm Ready!" to my mom, and headed for the car. When Mom dropped me off at the youth pastor's house, a guy I recognized from church answered the door.

"Hey, Katie, come on in. It's cool that you came," he said. He introduced himself as Ben and walked me into the living room. I blushed, flattered that he knew my name. Music was playing and kids were talking and laughing in tight little groups. Ben must've realized I felt out of place because he stayed by my side, introducing me to the others.

Soon, Ben and I started dating. Like the other kids in the youth group, we both agreed it was smart to save sex for marriage. But we never really talked about how far we would or wouldn't go. It didn't seem to be that big of a problem until we'd been dating over a year and ended up alone one winter afternoon.

After a long day of snowmobiling, Ben and I watched a movie alone in his basement rec room. We snuggled close and started to kiss. Although kissing wasn't a new thing for us, we went further that day than ever before—all the way to oral sex. Afterward, I felt gross. I left his house quickly, avoiding his mom's eyes.

We watched a lot of movies in the dark that winter. Each time we were alone, Ben wanted to push the boundaries, without going all the way. I often left Ben's house feeling guilty and dirty for what I'd done with him. But being Ben's girlfriend—feeling beautiful, fitting in at youth group, enjoying his attention—outweighed my shame over what we were doing in his basement.

When my dad got a new job and we moved to Florida, I was actually relieved to be hundreds of miles away from Ben. But I also felt afraid that I'd never again find someone else who'd give me so much attention and affection.

Shortly after I began my junior year in high school, I started dating Jay. He was older than me and a student at a local community college. Jay seemed so sweet and kind. He also seemed more spiritually mature than Ben had ever been. On our dates, he would talk forever about spiritual things, church leaders and Christian books he'd read. I was so impressed with Jay. Our times together felt refreshingly innocent—going out for ice cream, taking walks, attending his Sunday school class. He never pushed me to do things I didn't want to do.

Then one Friday night, Jay asked me out for a sunset-picnic-on-the-beach date. Wearing khakis and a button-down shirt, he picked me up in his navy blue Volvo. He closed the passenger door and then ran around to his side while I smelled the rose he'd brought me.

We slipped off our shoes at the end of the boardwalk to Dunes Beach. "It's so peaceful out here," I said, looking at empty sand stretching down the shore in both directions.

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