I used to be quite the cheerleader in high school

“Oh. That’s so sweet. If you want, I can tag along and help you psyche up the team with my professional pep stylings. You know…” Alabama stood on her knees and started to clap in rhythm as she quietly sang, “That pitch was bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S…”

I forced out a polite chuckle and quickly scanned my brain for a proper follow-up excuse. “And I would love to see that but this is kind of an important practice. Big game tomorrow and I’m worried the boys will have trouble focusing. Maybe next time for sure, though.”

I smiled down at her and casually turned to grab a pair of jeans out of my dresser while peeling my a’s cold palm as tactfully as possible. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but my macabre memories of the night before were still coming back in fractured bits and pieces and I was worried that if I didn’t get away from this girl soon, I was going to lose it.

Thankfully, as soon as I started to pull on my clothes, Alabama quickly followed suit. Once she was dressed and had collected her purse, strap-on, etc., I walked her out of my complex and followed her down the block to where Alabama had parked her car the night before.

I forced a pleasant smile as we said our goodbyes and exchanged a quick kiss. Then she slid in behind the wheel and gave me a wave as she started to shut the driver’s side door. I returned the wave, sure that I was finally in the clear, when Alabama suddenly pushed the door back open and said, “What are you up to later tonight?”

“Um…” Now, I’m not the kind of snob who snubs a beautiful girl just because she wants to hang out with me two days in a row, but there was a lot I still needed to process and at that present moment I really wasn’t feeling much of a hurry to hang out with Alabama anytime soon. I hesitated for a beat as I considered the proper response and then finally settled on, “Not sure. Call me?”

Her face lit up as she smiled and it was almost enough to make me feel guilty for how weird I was being. Alabama responded with a wink as she looked up at me and said, “I’ll do that.”

Of course, as with most interactions between hormonal teens of opposing genders, our bond began with a misguided attempt at having sex

With one last extremely girly wave, she finally shut her door and started the car. I watched Alabama drive off as an immense sense of relief washed over me. I justified the tapaa somalian naiset feeling by telling myself that none of it was my fault. The evening had started out great but I wasn’t the one that tricked me into eating strange drugs and then attempted to fuck my ass with a strap-on.

As you know, my sexiness can be quite the distraction,” Alabama said as she reached out and placed a hand on my flaccid penis

Of course, that thing about having to be at baseball practice was a complete lie (I didn’t even have a nephew). Still, I didn’t want to be at my place; not while last night was still so fresh in my mind. It was too early to start drinking, even by New Orleanian standards, so I called up my friend Elisha and asked her to meet me for coffee.

Elisha and I had attended the same fine-arts high school and have been friends ever since we were both pretentious 15-year-olds peddling our awful free-verse poetry at the weekly Creative Writing workshops.