ADORA - 20 DAYS AGO

Mark's muscles are tensing, flexing and straining while he lifts God knows how many pounds in the air. He's very loud about it, too, like everyone around him needs to know he's pushing his limits.

Fortunately, the gym is empty, which isn't such a surprise for a Saturday afternoon. Everyone's either still recovering from last night or warming up for tonight's party. The low afternoon sun spills all over the light-beige carpet. Mark is the only one training in a 10 feet radius.

I'm annoyed, bored and hungover.

I'm also beyond ashamed and guilty, so I stick around, wondering how long I'll have to be there. The fact Mark is making me be here is frustrating, but each time a bad feeling towards my boyfriend emerges, memories of Eric's lips against mine flash in my mind.

I feel like utter and complete shit.

I'm stuck in the guilt. I also need something to change.

The fact I made out with his friend last night is enough to push me to address the problems we have.

Our problems are the go-to excuse for my little misdemeanour and I'm aware of how selfish and evil that is. I shouldn't be blaming Mark for what I did, but I do. It's sick and wrong and I'm on the verge of crying each time I remember.

"How do I look?" Mark grunts.

"Perfect, babe." I sit on that machine that makes your thighs really strong and cross my legs. I'm in my sweatpants and my hair isn't brushed. My heart is pounding against my ribcage. Its pitter-patter is turning unbearable. I try my best to focus on Mark's lifts even though I'd rather be anywhere else at the moment.

It's the guilt, it makes me try even harder. I wonder what that will do to our relationship.

Mark lets out another grunt and lifts the weights in the air. He looks good like that, with his muscles all bulging and tense. The memory of the last time we had sex is burning in my mind. Three months ago, during Christmas break in Aspen, when I finally managed to drag him away from his friends. It's been four months before that and three since.

My gaze falls to the ground. I feel the frown gripping my expression. I probably look terrified; terrified of this new, stupid development in our relationship.

"Babe, you're not looking!"

My head snaps at him, he's sitting on the gym machine, a cute pout gripping his features.

"Sorry, I'm a little hungover." I murmur and try focusing on him.

He returns to his weight-lifting, "Did you have fun last night?"

My heart drops to my gut, "Uh... no, not particularly."

Mark trusts me, sometimes a bit too much. He holds me on a pedestal and for a while, I thought that was fine. I've been nothing but good throughout the five years we've been together. Lately, something's been pushing me to the dark side, pushing me to make a mistake. And I'm terrified of that. What happens when I inevitably slip off that pedestal? Does the crash destroy his entire perception of me?

Mark is also blind to my dissatisfaction. I've talked to him about it so many times. He promises things are going to change, but the change only ever lasts for a week. Maybe it's because I'm not good at verbalizing it.

How do you tell a guy you aren't satisfied with your sex life without irrevocably destroying his ego and doing yourself a disservice? So, I mention it casually, every now and then. I tell him how long it's been since the last time we've had sex, I tell him I want us to be alone more often, I ask him to take me somewhere, but none of it has worked yet.

"By the way," Mark lets out a laugh, "Katie asked me to give her Eric's number."

That catches my attention and I smirk, "Doubt Eric would be interested in her."

"Why not?" Mark murmurs.

I eye him, "She's a huge skank."

Mark laughs again, "So? Eric only fucks skanks."

Ouch. I breathe in sharply, trying not to show the hurt on my face. I deserve that. After all, he's right. Eric does only fuck skanks.

My mind wanders away as I remember his lips on me once again. I wonder what he's doing now, I wonder whether he woke up or if he's still entangled in his rustled sheets. How can something that tastes so good be so bad for you?

Then I remember carbs, and sugar, and gin and tonic. Everything that's bad for you tastes good.

"I thought Katie was drooling over you." I'm not jealous of Katie, there isn't really a girl in the world that feels like a threat.

I'm wondering whether a part of me wouldn't blame Mark for cheating on me right now. Maybe I'd be relieved. We'd share a crime then.

"She treats me like a brother." Mark laughs. He's also blind to other girls wanting him, which is strangely frustrating.

"Did you give her his number?" I ask.

"Huh?" Mark lifts his upper body and looks at me. "Katie? Uh, yeah, I gave her his number."

"Great." I say it through me teeth, but Mark doesn't notice. He's not attuned to the changes in my moods.

Fuck, I'm so confused, and tired, and scared. I want to erase last night. I want to repeat it.

Tears prickle my eyes.

"Babe?" Mark lets go of his weights. "What's wrong?"

The question cracks a hole in the dam, tears fall down my cheeks, "Nothing, I'm sorry."

My boyfriend is by my side in a second, squatting in front of me, "Baby? What happened? What did I do?"

"It's just-" I breathe in and wipe the tears off my face, "You were supposed to pick me up last night and you didn't and I just wanted us to be alone with you for a while-"

I don't finish the sentence as another flood of tears bursts out of my eyes. In a way, I've never paid much attention to the resentful, frustrated feelings I bear towards him. Kissing Eric makes it all too real. I really am unsatisfied. I truly am one step away from destroying the relationship we've been building for five years.

"Baby, I'm sorry." Mark leans his head against my knees. "I forgot, I'm so sorry. I'll be better, I promise."

I know he's sorry and I feel even guiltier, especially since I've shot myself in the leg by kissing Eric. Now I can't complain anymore, because I'm the one who cheated, and everything Mark might have done wrong fades in comparison.

"It's okay." I wipe my tears and offer a thin smile. "I'm sorry, you don't need this now."

My boyfriend stands up, his smile is gentle, "How about I take you somewhere? We could get dinner tonight. My folks aren't home anyway, we could get away from this campus for the night."

Warmth envelops my heart, "I'd love that."

"Good." Mark grins. "I just have to finish up here."

I nod, "And I have to take a shower. I'll meet you later?"

"Of course."

The permission to leave is all I need. Once again, his reassurances and promises are enough to lull me into comfort. Guilt is still gnawing at me, but I push it down. It's okay. I made a mistake, but I'll never do something like that again. Mark and I can mend our relationship. No one has to find out what happened. Ever.

I walk back to the dorm rooms, feeling lighter than earlier, when I notice Graham Koch leaving the girls' dorms. I frown, wondering which poor thing this sleaze lured into his bed now.

He grins in my direction, "Had fun last night?"

I hate his smile; it always feels like he knows everyone's secrets. It's never so blatantly worried me, then again, I've never had anything to hide.

"Not particularly." I don't want to talk to him, but his smile is too confident, too all-knowing.

"I doubt that." He smiles, puts his hands in his pockets and walks away.

What a sleaze.

I convince myself he's only teasing and that he didn't really see anything. But the flicker of doubt creeps through me as I stare at his back. This isn't the first time he's been cryptic and insinuating, so I swallow my doubts and shake it off. It doesn't matter, because I'll never repeat what I did last night. Never ever.

It's just something I needed to get out of my system.

I push the dorm's door open when my phone vibrates.

The world stills around me. Every single fibre of my being lights up. Eric Slade is calling me.

"What?" I answer.

Eric's small laugh on the other end resonates through my skull, "Did you spike my drink last night?"

My soul feels like it's being turned inside out and I'm barely capable of uttering the words, "Why?"

"All I think about is you. I'm like an addict waiting for the next hit."

Heat trails down my spine; traitorous, treacherous and tempting.

"You should find something else to get addicted to." I swallow. "It's never going to happen again."

His chuckle is low and husky, "Your rules, sugar. But I have to warn you, I'm a cheat."

I hang up on him.

Fuck.