Page 46 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
I turned to look at Lance, who had a giant grin on his face but was shaking his head as well. He walked to me and lifted my chin while pulling me into his chest. My hands went instinctively to his hips, and I could feel myself start to shake from the close contact. I wish I could be one of those girls who wasn’t affected by close intimacy. But I was nervous, one hundred percent, a sweaty hot mess of nerves.
“That was a good try.”
“It was kind of pathetic.”
“It kind of was.” He chuckled. “You got this next one though. Remember straight arm and get lower to the ground, that might help.”
“Got it, straight arm and low to the floor.”
He rubbed my cheek with his thumb and then pulled away. I wanted to cry and tell him to come back, but I held on to my self-respect, turned around and got my ball.
With confidence, I got in position, looked at the arrows, and then walked toward the alley as my arm swung back. I squatted down, as low as I could go, and threw the ball forward just as I heard a loud rip and a gush of air go straight up my vagina.
What.
The.
Hell.
There comes a time in a girl’s life when the world freezes in place and she reflects on her current life situation.
That moment for me was right now.
I stood there, melted in place, a contemplative look on my face. Confused, on the verge of being mortified as I tried to comprehend the reason for a short burst of air between my legs.
It shouldn’t ever be breezy down there.
Never. Unless . . .
I froze in place as I tried to will time to rewind because, I was pretty sure I just split my pants from vagina to the Great and Powerful Asshole.
Some onlookers might have thought I was freezing my bowling pose by my frozen state, but little did they know. I was trying to mentally plan my escape, calling up Scotty to beam me the hell out of the bowling alley.
Too bad Scotty was retired now, the bastard.
What the hell was I supposed to do? Get up? If I got up, I’d have to explain what the hell just happened, and I wasn’t ready for that, but then again, I was wearing a thong and right now, I was squatting, meaning . . .
Holy shit.
I stood straight as a rod and turned around quickly, hiding my butt from Lance so only the pins could see the mess that was my backside.
Out of all the days to choose to wear a thong. It was my punishment—it had to be.
There were moments in a person’s life where you really thought if you died, the situation in front of you wouldn’t be better. That was how I felt because all I could think about was my newly bleached asshole and it lighting up like the damn North Star under the black lights. Wasn’t sure if it was possible but if it was, it would happen to me. With my luck, three kings would be walking through the door any minute now with presents for Virginia, a camel harnessed outside chewing on a bale of hay, and the luxury of frankincense and myrrh in my near future.
“You got two pins,” Lance cheered as he walked toward me, causing me to walk backward. He couldn’t come close to me. How the hell was I going to get out of this? “What’s wrong?” Lance looked concerned. “Careful,” he called out as I continued to back up. “You don’t want to—”
With one wrong step, I felt the grip of my shoe seize and slip on the greasy alley.
My legs twisted, my arms flailed, my dignity scrambled, and right when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, my legs flew out from under me and I fell backward, legs spread and up in the air, exposing my ripped crotch and matching neon-green thong.
To hold on to that last ounce of self-respect I had left, I clenched my ass cheeks tightly together just in case the Great and Powerful tried to peek through.
“Oh shit,” Lance said while grabbing my arms and pulling me into his chest. He walked me to the seats and crouched in front of me.
I clenched my legs tight and buried my head in my hands.
“I split my pants,” I muttered in mortification.
