Mood: swipe left and tap the media box above to listen to Girl On Fire by Alicia Keys.

Lydia

I felt like I was in heaven in my first year of college. I was liberated and set free from high school hell. After a summer of therapy and healing with a fantastic psychologist, I was no longer weighed down by the guilt and shame of prom night.

Prom night was a living hell for me that I had to relive day after day until I found help through Dr. Olivia Sykes. Prom was supposed to be a happy experience. I could never have that back because that happy experience was taken away from me.

Dr. Sykes helped me overcome the trauma that I suffered. It was the emotional damage that needed healing, an imprint that would remain with me for the rest of my life. Devon took no personal responsibility for what he did to me, which was callous and cruel.

The best thing I could do for myself was to move on and live each day as if it was the best day of my life. Life is short, and I had to make the most of it. Devon may have taken away my dignity, but I would not let him take away my life. I had a right to enjoy living life to the fullest.

I was not going to be led by emotional eating, dieting, or binge-eating. If I felt the rush or urge to hurt myself that way, I had to do something positive. My positive channel was through poetry and Pilates. Going for walks also helped me connect with the world and focus on more positive thoughts. I fell in the mud and owed it to myself to get out of the mud and wash it off.

Here I was at Willington State University. I felt like a new me, and each day ahead was a new day. The sun was shining, and I had only opportunities ahead of me. I was free to be whoever I wanted to be in the sea of students on campus. Each face I passed had their own sad story. I was not the only one. I was a survivor.

---

Shortly into my first semester, I started dating again. I felt like exactly what I was-a first-year university student stepping into the world and enjoying all the activities around me. I was enjoying my life.

"Lydia, I've never seen you smile so much," Kathleen said.

Kathleen was an archaeology student whose room was across the hall from mine. She was five feet eleven and had an impressive, voluptuous figure. She wasn't afraid to show her size 14 curves with her fantastic sense of style. Her green eyes contrasted with her straight blonde hair and pale skin. She was warm but direct and honest. She had a positive outlook on life and a great sense of humor. We clicked right away and became close friends.

"I just got a text from Marc," I said. "He wants to take me away on a weekend trip!"

"You should go, Lyds! Totally! I mean, that guy is so hot!"

Marc was older than me, in his final year of his bachelor's degree. He was the quarterback for the university's football team, the Hawkes. He was wild, fun, and everything that symbolized liberation and freedom. This guy was a different kettle of fish from Devon Declan, Matt Roberts, or Keith DiMarco.

When I met him at a party that Carrie took me to a few weeks ago, I thought he would be the next best thing to Ben & Jerry's mouth-watering cookie dough ice cream.

This guy was tall-at least six-two, muscled, and lean. He had broad shoulders and a V-line that tapered downward. I loved the way his clothes just looked incredible on him. Throw him a simple shirt and pair of jeans, and you've got a poster boy for a clothing campaign. He could wear anything-a brown sack-and he'd still look sexy. Put him in a simple loincloth, or better yet... absolutely nothing.

My heart raced and pounded. I wanted to know this guy. That was how I felt for Marc.

"Oh, he's one piece of eye candy. Every girl wants to be with him," Carrie said at the party. She was officially Johan's girlfriend now. They started seeing each other over the summer when she spent time with Kelsey. One thing led to another, and by the time college started, she and Johan were together. He asked her out a week ago, and she, of course, said yes.

"His name is Marc," Carrie said. "Marc Solomon."

"Not the Marc Solomon that everyone is talking about?" I shouted. I had two drinks by then, so I was feeling a little more adventurous. Besides, Jake wasn't there to stop me from drinking-something he did each time we were at a venue where there was alcohol.

I felt that I should stay away from guys, but I was drawn to Marc. Just this once, I told myself.

I walked over to the snacks table, near Marc, who chatted with a bunch of girls. They were all over him like jungle cats ready to pounce on their prey. One of them laughed and put her hand on his arm. She positioned her body so that she angled into him, her hips and butt almost touching his front body, signaling the others to keep away-that he was hers.

She's probably his girlfriend, I thought. I was resigned to the idea that I could be doomed to single life and die at the age of seventy-five with a bunch of cats meowing around me-morbid thought. I quickly stuffed my mouth with sugar pops, snacks, and a lollipop.

Just as I plopped the lollipop out of my mouth and turned away from the table, I crash-bumped into a solid pillar of marbled muscle.

Oh, shit! I looked up and saw tousled, dark-blonde hair, and a pair of blue eyes that owned that fantastic body. Marc Solomon. I had bumped into him.

"Hey, watch out," Marc said. Our eyes locked. His shirt was wet, and so was my hair-my clumsiness caused a beer spill.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I was leaving the snack table." I noticed that Marc's eyes focused on the lollipop stick in my hand.

"I hope you left some for the rest of us," he joked. Great, in addition to being a complete klutz, he now thinks I'm a pig. My ears burned hot shame, and my cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

Marc's eyes softened, and looked me up and down.

"Come with me," he motioned towards the bathroom.

"Your girlfriend might suspect something," I replied.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Marc replied.

"Oh, that girl you were talking to. I thought-"

"Miranda? She's an old family friend."

"Oh."

A few minutes later, I was in the bathroom, alone with this gorgeous hunk. He locked the door so people wouldn't barge in.

"Not everyone has manners, you know," this colossus said. He could've been a gladiator in Rome, being so brawn, tall and muscled. I felt so tiny compared to him. That feeling... It was just like someone I used to know from a past life.

"Did you get some beer on yourself?" Marc asked.

"A little, and on my hair, but it's not noticeable," I said. I wore a black mini-dress.

"Nice dress. My name's Marc Solomon, by the way." Marc's eyes roamed around my dress-first, my cleavage and then down to my legs. Then back to my eyes.

"I'm Lydia Coleman," I managed to croak out my name.

"Nice to meet you, Lydia," he shook my hand. His grip was strong and firm.

He then took his shirt off and washed the area I spilled.

Oh. My. Gawd! He was ripped! Wait, was that an eight-pack? This guy was a lot more than eye candy; he had the best body I'd ever seen. Sorry, Jake. Not sorry. Shit, this guy was like a Viking, and I was a fairy or a dwarf standing near him.

He grabbed a hairdryer and started drying his shirt while I washed the beer off my hair, running it under the faucet and drying it with a towel. He then put his shirt back on and sat on the edge of the bathtub.

"Come. Sit with me." He patted a spot right next to him.

I sat next to him. He smelled deliciously masculine and appeared incredibly strong. Trust me to end up in this situation. Life was an adventure, a roller coaster, and I was hopping on this ride.

We started talking. Marc asked questions about me, mainly what I studied, what year I was in, where I was from, my parents, my friends, where I liked to hang out, and what I liked to eat. He was curious.

He also told me about himself. He was on a football scholarship after graduating from high school a few years back. He studied science and enjoyed biology. He was the eldest of three siblings, which included a younger brother and sister. He preferred cats to dogs. Jake was a dog person-he and I used to walk his mom's dog, Tinkerbell, back in high school. Marc had a girlfriend until before the summer. Now he was free and single.

Then the inevitable happened. Marc inched closer to me, wrapped one arm around my waist, and gazed into my eyes. "You're beautiful," he murmured. Then he lifted my chin toward him, and he gently kissed my mouth. It started slowly, when our tongues met, and then it escalated to a heavy make-out session.

We were in our own world until someone knocked on the door-someone needed to use the bathroom. We walked out of the bathroom, and he found an empty bedroom. I closed the door behind me and locked it.

I came over to Marc, and he cupped my face with his big hands. We continued our kissing, which started as a slow burn and spread like wildfire. He unzipped my dress and unclasped my bra. He removed it and stared at my breasts.

I tried to cover them, but he gently moved my hands away. "Don't," he whispered, then massaged and kissed them.

I placed my hands under his shirt to feel his body. We rested on the bed, about to sink into an ocean of passion. He broke his kisses and whipped off his shirt before resuming our kisses in a locked embrace. He started stroking me, gently at first, then with more dexterity. As I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, he fished a single condom packet out of his back pocket and removed his jeans.

"You ready for this?" He looked at me with dilated pupils, hungry with lust.

I nodded.

I wanted this. So did he.

A/N: Please vote and/or comment if you like this chapter. ⭐️