I wasn't sure how it happened exactly, but his hands were down my skirt and my mouth feverishly tasted his. I was out of control, that I was sure of. This boy made me lose all of the rules I'd previously pushed upon myself. There was this one rule I'd always told myself to follow and that was, your mouth is only used to eat and drink. But my compulsions had led to a blatant disregard. Even though I wasn't stopping this, I knew I was going to hate myself. I'd wake up sore and regretful, avoiding him for a week at least, never wanting to admit how deep I was in this.

When it was all over I adjusted my skirt, zipped up my jacket and put my shoes back on. There was only one second of awkward silence before he spoke, as if nothing had happened in the past half hour.

"What classes do you have tomorrow?" I found the question ironic, he hardly cared what I was doing tomorrow, let alone what I was doing with my life in general. He only cared about whether or not I would remain madly in love with him, ready and willing. Though, I had to answer the question, I couldn't say how I really felt. I couldn't tell him that I was feeling used, that I would regret this but not stop it or that I wanted to make him hurt like I hurt.

"Math, English and Political Science."

"What are you guys doing in English now?"

"I'm writing an essay on film and it's effect on American culture."

"That's cool." The conversation continued as he told me a story about his job, but I wasn't listening to him. I was just watching him, watched the fact that he didn't notice I wasn't listening, watched him smile to himself about some joke and the entire time, he didn't look at me, not once for even a second. I'm not going to lie, it hurt to think that he wasn't attached to me like I was to him. But how could I not be attached to him, after an act like that? An act of passion that is usually a sign of some mutual attraction and need for each other.

Headlights flash by us as we turn into the parking lot my car was left in. I don't feel any romance in that moment, I've lost any feeling of happiness of seeing him. I feel low and desperate and as if I am the provider of my broken heart. It took me a second to grab my things and arrange myself, my hand gripped on the door handle before turning towards him.

"Goodnight, I'd like to see you again sometime." A bitter taste bugged the back of my throat and I felt the need to gag, this wasn't getting easier, it wasn't getting better the more I saw him. He only said that because he was hoping to get more action and I wasn't sure if I was willing after tonight.

"Goodnight." I let him give me a kiss goodnight before returning to my own car, watching as he reversed and left the parking lot. When his lights faded into the night I wept, letting the sadness I felt in my heart out in the open. It lay there in front of me, evidence of my own insecurities. There was no way to get out of this one while maintaining a friendship; I knew it all too well. I knew that this would happen again, me crying in my car or my bedroom after seeing him, realizing that I was out of control. But the part that hurt most was that I was afraid to leave this entire thing behind. Afraid that if I told him how I really felt I'd regret it, which left me stuck in this mess. I'd relive this night many more times in my life until he untimely left my life, moving to the other side of the country. But it never stopped, when he'd come and visit it'd start again, I was too pathetic to just say no. I'm still too pathetic to just say no.