Screw Everyone: Sleeping My Way to Monogamy Read Online Free PDF

my thighs, I adjusted my skirt to conceal all the evidence and returned to the party as if nothing were amiss. This wasn’t exactly the unique sense of style I’d set out to cultivate, but I felt pretty confident no one would be able to copy it. It was truly one of a kind.
    The boys played their final set, and Cameron wouldn’t look at me. This would never be an amusing story we’d tell our children. After that night, we drifted apart. We didn’t officially break up as much as we petered out. It was a mutually agreed-upon avoidance, and because he didn’t talk that much, I stopped waiting for him to deal with me directly and switched my attention to another group of guys. I’m prettysure the story of his bloody face and my naked ass never ran through the gossip mill, for which I will always credit Robby and Cameron’s discretion. I’m still waiting for someone to knock on my door holding a Ziploc bag containing a dusty pair of black Jockey-for-Her underwear excavated from a boiler room and ask me to explain. No, I got off easy with not much more than a shared secret and some missing panties, even if my virginity was still intact. Back to the Lotus spreadsheet to see what piece of pie would eat me next.

CHAPTER 3
NASTY, BRUTISH, AND SLUTTY
    C heryl and I thought Banff might be the perfect place for us to “expand our horizons.” A cute ski town nestled in the Rocky Mountains, Banff attracted every good-looking human in the area for spring skiing, drinking, and hooking up. Getting permission from our parents was barely an issue. Cheryl and I both had working moms, absent fathers, and good grades, a harmonious combination as long as you returned home with washed hair and all your fingers.
    We made certain we drove the speed limit, although with every click of the odometer we felt more and more like we were already breaking the law by heading to an unchaperoned weekend in Banff. If I’d known earlier that a 90 percent grade in physics signified that you were responsible, I would have studied harder, sooner. Cheryl managed to borrow her mother’s car for the two-hour drive. I “borrowed” mymother’s credit card and reserved a room at a cheap motel. I remember calling out to my mom from the kitchen while rifling through her purse, “Mom, I’m going to Banff for the weekend with Cheryl! Be back on Sunday!” and hearing, “Okay, be careful!” from the laundry room. At the time, that was considered solid parenting. Then again, this was long before you had to show an ID to buy cold medicine.
    Green Mountain Lodge sounded a lot nicer than it was. I’ve never stayed in a more pathetic place. It hung on to its two-star rating by a fraying set of bed sheets, awarded by a local paper called Pioneers Weekly . It was the kind of place you stayed at if you were planning a murder, running from a killer, or generally second-guessing every decision you’d ever made in life. The bedspread had burn holes, and the carpet was an indistinguishable gray/brown/green color, the same fiber you’d find in a dog kennel. The only decor in our room was a watercolor of two chipmunks fighting over a nut and a placard titled E MERGENCY E VACUATION I NSTRUCTIONS . Ultimately, all that mattered was that we had our very own crash pad in a town filled with ripped boys waiting to fall prey to our naive charm. Hopefully, we wouldn’t get carded.
    As soon as our duffel bags hit the floor, we faced our first major challenge: transforming ourselves into college students who passed for the legal drinking age. With the help of Bonne Bell makeup, sparkly tops, miniskirts, and high heels, we looked more like two girls trying too hard to look eighteen than two girls who were actually eighteen, which was enough to get us in anywhere.
    Tentative in our heels, we wobbled down the main strip of bars,every one of them embracing a cabin or moose theme. We’d made it one block when a couple of guys called out from the window of a bar, beckoning us to join