Major League Screw Up
Prologue

I have a secret: I am uneasy around sexually promiscuous people.

Not because I’m judging them or because I think they’re doing something wrong, but because I’m judging myself. I think maybe I’m the one doing something wrong. It feels strange to be twenty-two and only need one hand to count my sexual partners. My best friend uses her toes to count. My boyfriend hopefully won’t progress that far. I’m actually fairly sure my mother had tripled my count by the time she was my age, but knowing for certain makes me queasy.

No one but Chantal, my best friend, knows this about me. We have been best friends since middle school. We went through puberty about exactly the same time; Chantal got her period mere days before me. Though at that time we may have been physical equals when it came to sexual experience, Chantal was clearly much farther along than me mentally.

We were fourteen when Chantal made The Pact. She swore, no matter how old she was, whether she was single, married, or involved, no matter what the consequences would be, that she would fully screw Backstreet Boy Nick Carter’s brains out. (As it turned out, she wasn’t as into him when she was twenty-one, and refused his advances when he approached her during one of the bands many failed reunion tours.)

I made my own pact that day. When I was fourteen, I swore that I would never touch a rock star (later amended to musician of any kind) or actor just because of their status. It was shallow and I did not want or deserve to be treated like some kind of sex object. Of the two-thousand women who banged Gene Simmons, did none of them worry about STDs or HIV? Or pregnancy?

Chantal laughed at my concerns. “Who cares about that?” she asked. “It’s a once in a lifetime deal. Are you really telling me you would say no if Justin Timberlake came knocking on the door?”

I nodded vehemently then. “I would.”

“You’re freaking crazy,” she shook her head at me.

She was right. I was crazy. There was a group I forgot to include in my youth, one I hadn’t started yet to identify could be considered sexual in nature.

Athletes.

So technically, The Pact was never broken.

Right?

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AN: Yes, yes you see right. NEWWWW by me. This is seriously all I have right now, but ideas are swirling around in my brain, so expect more for sure. Don't expect it to be too long though. It's probably going to be short and sweet. Less than 10 chapters, for sure.

While you're waiting in your excitement for the next chapter, you can certainly check out my other penname verita, where I posted a somewhat biographical and entertaining love story I called Over You. Link on my profile page.

Review review review. :)