The Temporary Virginity of the American Player

1. You Only Live Once.

Hey, readers! Welcome to the Temporary Virginity of the American Player. This is my first story on Wattpad. It is currently COMPLETED and there IS AN ENDING, but I occasionally perform edits to pretty up the grammar. The storyline doesn't see changes, however. My goal for this story is just for enertainment, but if you like it enough to vote for it or fan me, I encourage you to do so! Also, I'd really appreciate some comments below the chapters or the Feedback page at the end telling me things you like, dislike, or just find funny :). Don't forget to view the awesome trailer made by Muchaachoo <333 If you'd like to create your own trailer or images, feel free to send them too me and I'll feature them with a shoutout! Many thanks, and enjoy the story! :)

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I guess you could have called me a partier. I mean, I wasn't exactly the type to dance on a table with a lampshade on my head, but I was the type to wake up next to a girl every Saturday morning. I was the type to have more drinks than I should and hurl it all up the next morning. I was the type of guy that every girl in the club wanted to get a piece of and I was also the type who wanted a piece of every girl in the club. And I was the type to do it all over again the next week.

I wasn't really picky. As the millenials say, yolo, right?

At least, that's how I looked at it. Stacy had called me a player. Amy had called me a jerk. Jackie had called me toxic. Leah had called me...well, let's not repeat what Leah called me. Regardless of how any of the ladies saw me, I was just the guy that liked to have a good time.

And I was also the guy getting sick in the apartment bathroom with the door open. Again.

Should I have laid off the drinks? Probably, but here we are. Consequences of a crazy night, so could you really blame me? And don't think I was the only one doing the drinking. Oh, no! A skilled partier never drinks alone. No doubt Johnny was in the same shape as I was, if not worse off. Maybe that was the hurling noise I was hearing on the other side of the wall. Or maybe it was Joe. It was hard to tell, as we all usually ended up in the same boat in the morning. The identities didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was keeping that horrid stench of vomit out of my nostrils as I emptied the rest of my stomach into the toilet bowl over and over again.

I closed my eyes after a few minutes of upchucking and rested my head on the toilet seat, a rather unsanitary but worthy pillow. My mind raced a million miles a minute trying to recall what had happened the night before before, but I figured it was probably safer that I didn't know. The less I knew, the less I could regret and from my previous party habits. I usually regretted a lot.

Sure, one might think that after all these bad experiences I've had, I might have learned to tone it down by now. But no. I was a lost cause and, to be honest, I sort of liked it that way. I could do whatever I wanted and could enjoy every minute of it. So I did whatever I wanted to do and threw it all up the morning after.

I gagged as another good dose of vomit came up, reminding me of my excess alcohol intake. Henny was a lot better going down than coming up. I flushed the toilet twice and fumbled for my toothbrush at the bathroom sink, scrubbing furiously at my teeth to get the sour taste away. I looked in the mirror, the toothpaste foaming around my lips and dribbling down my chest. I looked like a total wreck, but when did hangovers wear a pretty face? Big black rings around the eyes, pale skin, and the worst nausea and headache ever. At least it was a weekend. No overly important priorities to worry about, so I'd be able to sleep it off by tomorrow. Well, I hoped so anyway. Oh, well. I still had all of Sunday to get rid of it. No worries.

A set of thin, pale arms curved around my waist as I spit into the sink, fingernails fixed up with pink nail polish chipped at the middle finger. I paused and looked in the mirror to see a girl's face looking back, a small smile on her mouth. Whoa, good job, me. This girl looked like a model, standing behind me wearing nothing but a pair of my boxers.

She kissed my neck and a tingle shot through my body and I couldn't keep from looking down.

I blamed the morning.

"Good morning," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin.

"Hey, beautiful," I murmured, kissing her arm. "Feel okay?"

"I feel fine. I'm not much of a drinker. You covered enough for the both of us."

"That's my normal, babe," I said with a smile, and turned around to give her a closer inspection. I was already racking my brain for her name...more importantly a way to get her out of the apartment without getting my eyes scratched out by those pretty pink fingernails. "Hungry?"

"A little," she said, and looked up at me with her blue eyes. I'd give her credit. Those eyes could have ripped me apart any day. "Why? You feel up to grabbing a bite?"

"I feel up to anything," I said, one eyebrow raised high.

"Oh, stop it. You'd think you'd be exhausted from last night."

"Last night," I asked, moving over towards the bed. "Fill me in on last night."

Seriously, fill me in. I don't remember a thing.

"Well," she sighed as I crawled back into bed. I watched her sit next to me and she continued. "You drank like a fish and somehow managed to keep it all down. I think we danced about half the night. We caught a taxi and came back here and...well, you know the rest."

I chuckled and leaned back on a pillow. "Oh, yeah. I think that part's starting to come back to me...."

Not even a little bit. Jesus, what did I do?

"Is it? Well, I'm glad. For having a few too many, you sure know what you're doing in bed."

"I'm full of surprises. I can give you another surprise if you want to go for round two."

"Well," she said, cuddling up against me and giving me a look. One of those looks. "Who's gonna be the first to tap out?"

Huh. Maybe I did do a good job picking her up. She seemed fun and didn't ask important questions that I couldn't answer. Like if I remembered what her name was.

"Not me," I said.

"Not me, either," she whispered, giving my lips a quick kiss. "Wanna make a bet?"

"Depends on the stakes," I said, raising an eyebrow. She smiled and whispered in my ear her idea of the stakes. I liked those stakes. "Challenge accepted."