Sincerely Yours, The Whore

        I think the biggest misconception that everyone has , in stories and movies, is that the school sluts are always blonde. It's an untrue, overplayed stereotype that gives blondes a harsh reputatuion that people judge them for upon sight. My best friend is a blonde, and she's not a whore.

        That's all me. 

      I'm not ashamed to say that. I was given that label Freshman year when everyone found out that I had lost my virginity to Scott Brantsworth. The sad part? He wasn't even that cute. I could've done way better, and I have. I think my best was Landry Evans. He was a senior my sophmore year, and cliche enough, he was Quarterback of the football team. Too bad we only got to go at it once. He was dating Ellie, the head cheerleader, at the time. 

        Which brings me to another overused sterotype, sluts aren't always cheerleaders. I've never cheered a day in my life, those bubbly airheads have always gotten on my nerves. So I could never, and would never, force myself to spend time with them. Even if I did happen to like the stunts they do,and the outfits they would wear. They were below me and not worth my time of day. Plus there's the fact that the majority of the cheer squad hates me. Instead of excelling in sports or social activities, I've always been more of the quiet, musical type. From day one I'd shown a musical talent, piano and viloin coming to me like a second nature, then guitar slowly making an appearance in my life when I started singing around the age of nine. I think I liked how you could pour your soul into the music and it would show, in prettier more melodic ways that could get stuck in your head. Forcing people to pay attention and to remember you. Usually the only time people ever pay attention to me are when they find it in themselves to start new rumors about me, or when I ask the guys if they want to be on top or have me do it.

      Well, everyone, apart from Nevaeh. My blonde counterpart who I met early freshman year at a track workout, the only sport I'd ever been slightly good at. We became close friends way before my personal life had been broadcasted around the school. So she didn't care that I'd slept with Scott, or Michael, or Blake. She knew what I was really like, and stayed with me through the taunts, the fights and rumors. Which, let me tell you, have been many.

        Apart from Nevaeh I've never been good at making friends, everytime I walk down the hall, I get glares from majority of the student body; squinted eyes, upper lips quarrelled in disgust, the whole nine yards. Well that, or there are masses of girls who hug their boyfriends a little closer to them, scared I might swoop in and suck their boyfriends dicks up into me or something. What none of them realize, is the guys were more willing than I was to preform sexual activities, and tended to initiate the encounters. I just minded my own business. They all came to me. 

"Yo Alicia! You down to go out tonight?" Sam Roark yells across the hall from, its stupid considering my locker is litterally right across from his. 

I slowly raise my eyebrow at him. 

"What? I know you didn't get enough last time baby." He smirks, his commented gaining attention from anyone near by. 

"Yeah, it's hard to get enough when you've only got 2 inches to offer." I state before closing my locker and walking off, a chorus of "Oh's" echoing behind me. I've never slept with Sam. He's greasy, loud and tries too hard to be a class clown. He's not funny. Just desperate for attention. And sleeping with him would just lower my standards. 

"Whatever bitch, you were loose anyway." He yells after me.

I don't even glance back. He's not worth my time. 

Walking down the hall, my chin held high, I easily ignore all of the looks thrown my way. I've been doing this for three years, it doesn't phase me anymore. I look at my schedule and start changing maneuvering through the hallway rush to get to Calculus, that is until Justin catches my eye. He nods towards the parking lot, and I casually change my direction once more. As a basketball star Justin's tall, fair haired and has blemish free tan skin.  He's built beautifully, and is definitely someone, when compared to Sam, who I can waste my time on.

I walk out to the parking lot, following the familiar route to his truck when I feel him fall into step behind me. We've done this countless times before. So I'm not  surprised when he pushes me up againt the back left passenger side of his truck, his lips hungrily moving against mine. And even less surpised when I feel his hand move to unbutton my ripped skinny jeans.  I smirk into his kiss and push him off long enough to open the door and hop into his back seat, Justin quickly getting in beside me. He latches his mouth to mine once more, and I hardly hear the bell ringing. I'm too focused on the boy on top of me.