My goodness, she's cute, I think, chuckling to myself as one of my female friends tries on an old top that I hardly wore now. Her blond hair practically sparkles in the sunlight that shone in through the stained glass window. Her clear blue eyes have a spark in them that defeats the beauty of the rivers. Her body looks like a model's from a Victoria's Secret photoshoot. Her slim frame doesn't attract me, now that I'm thinking about it.

"That blouse looks great on you," I say, trying to keep my voice even. My mind is working at top speed, and I am hoping to reach a conclusion about why there is no sexual attraction. My friend kisses my cheek softly, thanking me for the shirt. When she exits my room, I shut the door and rush to my computer. While I wait for the screen to load, I gaze at my lesbian pride flag.

My father helped me place it on the ceiling. The task took some time to complete it, but we finished it before my mother had dinner ready. Finally, the window browser loads, and I research the meaning of asexual. Asexual is romantic or platonic feelings but not sexual. My breath hitches in my throat—how did this happen?

This is the prologue for Discovering My Sexuality. If you have any questions, please ask.