I'd like to apologise for not updating sooner (family issues and school etc.), and also in advance for this chapter. Hearts get broken. The angst is real. Sorry. Besides all that, I hope you can enjoy it!


Every day that week there had been an excuse. Some rehearsal; some party; something more important than him. He couldn't even decipher which of her 'I love you's were real anymore, because it was so often that she had to say it…. Had to say it. She was so afraid and compelled to reassure him because his teeth were grit a little bit more after every occurrence, every time she sauntered away from him with one of her friends, or – more commonly these days – Sam. Ryder was still fond of the blonde man, but the way in which the boy's attitude had become more flirtatious alarmed him. Maybe it was paranoia or superstition of sorts, but mostly it was fear. And it was definitely fear of losing her, even fear of loving her. For the first time in his life, Ryder Lynn feared both holding onto things and letting go of them, and it was these uncertainties which threatened to drive him off the edge. He was never like this before… only around her. And that was another thing: was she good for him, or was this whole relationship a recipe for disaster? He despised his own thoughts day after day, and how he was questioning their relationship so often. Their relationship had once been a firm wall of ice, but now her popularity and his tentativeness were encouraging an ever-growing flame further towards that wall.

What was even more painful these days is when she gave him no warning. The chestnut-haired boy would even be waiting patiently at a table at Breadstixx, or standing outside a movie theatre when she would call and inform him that she'd have to cancel because rehearsals were overrunning, or her parents or friends needed her for an emergency. He felt more and more like second best. Meeting with her outside school had become a luxury to them now, and they'd gotten in trouble for public displays of affection within McKinley. They couldn't help it; they were so desperate for something to keep hold of, and they never knew when they'd have the chance to be close to one another again.

Despite everything, he still loved her. And he had to, because she felt the same way and it wasn't as though she was unaware of what she was doing. She knew this was killing him, and convinced herself every day to stop taking up offers when she was well aware that she had a date reserved – she just hated saying "no" to people when she went to a school where practically everyone depended on her.

Late March, and his paranoia was beginning to deny principal truths. Marley always had been a flirt, and no one expected any less. Of course, things had dialled down when Ryder meandered into the picture, but she still had that same sparkle and smirk, or that smile which could have suggested something more. Now, her boyfriend saw everything differently: telling a jock that she'd be there at a party, and any time she was around Sam, he couldn't help but feel nauseous. Her subtle suggestiveness had turned a neutral expression into a teeth-grinding, nostril-flared blaze of heat. He failed to mask his acidic looks that were so obviously seeping through, but he always tried to keep his temper intact, and never burst. That wasn't like Ryder. Or, at least, that wasn't like the Ryder that she knew.

That night, she saw a different Ryder – one she most certainly did not recall.

It was the night of another tedious rehearsal – a Friday night – and the brunette girl herself had promised Ryder that she would make time for him afterwards to get some frozen yogurt, at the very least. Ten minutes past their agreed time and he still sat in his car, waiting amongst the orange hue of lights in the McKinley High School parking lot, until suspicion began to dictate his actions and possessed him, unleashing a burning in his dilated pupils; an intense sensation of mistrust. That possessive suspicion nudged his feet into the building, hurtling him through doors that eventually led to the auditorium.

It was then when this Ryder began his transformation into the Ryder that no one had ever seen, even less so expected. As he saw Marley slowly and elegantly spinning into Sam's arms, touching his cheek softly with her palm and fingertips with her nose on his other cheek, puffing warm air onto the corner of his mouth, he was awestruck. The last cadence of the song sounded through the speakers as Sam stood, encircling Marley by the waist, his hand touching her bare stomach due to the sports bra she was wearing for rehearsal. They stood like that for seconds until the song ended. At this point, the new witness was boiling in anger as he scanned the two people he held dear in his life, holding each other for seconds on end, knowing from the passion in her eyes that her boyfriend was nothing but an afterthought to her. Finally forcing his feet to leave the room, he propelled his rigid body out of the school in a strange state of realisation; of betrayal; of his new acquaintance: anger.

Minutes later, he heard footsteps tap against the tarmac in the parking lot. He didn't see them – he was leaning against his car, looking inside it with his back to the school as he bit his lip hard enough for it to bleed. He was fumbling with his car keys to drive back (seeing as he obviously wasn't needed in her presence) when he heard her begin to apologise behind him, her wary tone informing him that she had sensed his anger. Maybe she had seen his clenched fists. "Sorry I was late, we couldn't get the lift right-" Marley began to explain once greeting him, and Ryder turned around at long last, though it wasn't at all the reaction she had been hoping. The still-present scowl on Ryder's face as he turned around told the girl that there was something else wrong – something that couldn't be cured with a simple apology. "Hey, are you okay, babe?"

"Why?" Ryder said simply.

He had sent her into confusion with one punctual word. "Why what-"

"Why, after all this time I've trusted you, do you decide to cheat on me?!" Ryder couldn't help but yell back. Anger was no longer an acquaintance as he came face-to-face with her. With tears threatening to rise, anger was a friend.

Marley was taken aback as her eyes narrowed, her stomach dropping as an indescribable weight made itself known on her body. "What?"

The boy sucked in a breath before biting the bullet, not bothering to sugar-coat anything as his voice took on an evident shake. "Is that why you've been cancelling our dates, huh? Is that why rehearsals overrun and you suddenly don't have time for me anymore? You're too busy making out or finally indulging in your sexual needs with Sam? One of my best friends? Because if that's true then you're one hell of a backstabber Marley Rose, and you haven't changed one bit since last year!"

She didn't hesitate to persist with her one word question; he had thrown her into even further confusion and another load of weights now pounded on her body with every word. "What?! Ryder, I promise you, I am not cheating on you with Sam! I don't think of him that way, he's just a friend!"

Ryder chuckled humourlessly. "A friend. More like a friend with benefits, right?"

"No!" Marley firmly denied, still standing in a blur of emotions and uncertainties. "How did you even jump to this conclusion?"

This was where Ryder narrated what was painfully etched on the back of his eyelids. "I was out here wondering where you were and if you were going to stand me up again, so I went inside to check if everything was okay, and caught you spinning into his arms and caressing his goddamn cheek as he swam his hand all over your ribcage."

When Marley heard that, her shoulders sank and her jaw dropped. How could he have misinterpreted that? "We were practicing, Ry! Mr Schue told us that we didn't have enough emotion, so he choreographed that last bit for us and we were practicing it. Baby, you know I would never cheat on you…" Marley walked up to Ryder and caressed his cheek, opting to console him rather than fuel his vicious temper.

"Well, you can't exactly blame me for thinking it, considering your past and all…" Ryder said bitterly, sending his girlfriend into a new state of astonishment - and she realised she would have to move mountains in order to change his emotions.

Mouth slightly ajar once more, Marley dropped her hand from her boyfriend's cheek in shock. "Jesus Christ, I can't believe you're throwing that in my face." She spat as she began shaking her head in disgust.

Ryder clenched his jaw. "But it's true, isn't it? You and Sam?"

"No it isn't! Of course it isn't, Ryder! Did you get a fresh dose of paranoia this evening, or something?!" At this point, the sapphire-eyed girl wasn't in a blur anymore. Instead, she just stood firmly in an area of disbelief and violation.

"But why do you keep blowing me off then?" Ryder persisted, needing to know facts if he was to be proven wrong. He demanded real reasons as oppose to the flimsy excuses he had received recently.

The boy's stubborn demands sent her even further into a feeling of violation; of disrespect and unfamiliarity. The girl yelled now as if the answer was so blatantly obvious that even a corpse could comprehend. "Because we want to perfect it! Mr Schue wants us to perfect it! And I don't know about you, but I actually care about this stupid Glee Club and I want us to win at Regionals!"

"It's hard to believe that, considering you wanted nothing to do with Glee Club a year ago." Ryder retorted.

His narrow-mindedness was new to the brunette, and she struggled to like it. This was someone else driving her off the edge, and not her boyfriend. She knew it, and it was only a matter of time before he snapped out of it. Still though, Marley battled. "People change, Ryder. All the time!"

"Well, obviously not you. Once a slut, always a slut, right?"

Marley opened her mouth to say something, but merely let out a shaky sigh before clamping her lips tightly together. Her maze of emotions met oblivion all at once, and she now couldn't help the numb feeling that throbbed dully through racing veins as her eyes began to uncontrollably well up with tears, Ryder just staring at her in the dull glow of the parking lot lights. That final vituperation had made everything reduce to nothing but dust in their wake, as the fog began to clear in his jealousy-driven brain.

Unfortunately, he only realised she was being true to her word when it was too late. "Marley, I'm so sorry, I-"

"No." The girl in question said as a tear ran down her face. "Don't try to save yourself with "sorry"." Her words slithered off her tongue like venom as her face remained as firm as a boulder; she could practically feel that flame fizzing inside of her stomach in humiliation, anger, disbelief… every emotion she had vowed never to feel again. "Recently I've been busy and I know that's agitated you, but all this time I thought you still stuck by me. I thought you were still the Ryder Lynn that I fell for last year; the guy that was nothing but respectful, and civil, and sincere, and good to me! But those lines aren't blurred anymore. It's obvious what you think of me now. And not only do you not trust me after all we've been through together; after all I've shared with you about myself… but you also think I'm still the same whore who broke your precious little heart in junior year." Marley spoke the words bitterly as more tears cascaded from her eyes.

It was useless attempting to grasp at those last shreds of their relationship, but he tried nonetheless. "No, Marls-"

"Don't you dare call me that. Ever." Marley half-hissed, half-whimpered as her bottom lip began to tremble. Another shaky breath escaped her mouth before she finally broke the silence between them. "We're through."

"Wait, Marley-" Ryder whined as he reached out to grab her wrist, trying to hold onto her as if letting her leave would be letting go – and he feared letting go. Alas, the girl tore away from him in an instant, as if he had a deadly disease.

"No! Don't touch me!" Marley barked, before looking at her right hand, which shook vigorously. Nostrils fuming, she began to force the beautifully decorated ring off her trembling third finger – the ring Ryder had lovingly given her for Valentine's Day: the promise ring. "And you can keep this piece of junk, too. Good luck trying to find someone who's willing to wear it for you next!" The brunette screeched as the tears streamed down her face with no interruption and, as a final gesture before storming off back home by herself, she threw the ring right at Ryder. Of course, Marley never really had a good aim despite her athletic status, and the piece of jewellery missed him and instead landed in a puddle a few feet away, but she didn't care. With one final mistrusting glare, Marley paced angrily away from the scene, sniffling uncontrollably, leaving Ryder no choice but to bask sourly in the aftermath alone.

Once the girl was well out of earshot, Ryder finally had the courage to move from his rigid state and instead shuffled over to the puddle, retrieving the ring that his girlfriend had worn faithfully just ten minutes ago. Only now, the ring was not warmed by her fingers, but was instead cold and considerably wet, and his girlfriend was now his ex-girlfriend.

"Oh, Ryder…" He scolded himself as his eyes watered in devastation. "What have you done?"


The now-blotchy-faced teenager clumsily threw her keys down on the table, her heart racing at a dreadful speed. Her mother and father were out and wouldn't be back until Sunday, so she had the entire house to mope to herself, luckily – she hated to think of what she would have said when her mother inevitably rushed to the door to find a tear-sodden daughter, sniffing and slobbering like a miserable hound. Thoughts were going through her head at a thousand memories per minute, never straying from the unfortunate 5 minute fight that eventually broke them apart for good; the five minutes that told her everything she needed to know about him. Thinking about this triggered an involuntary whimper from between her lips, as she made her way to the staircase, sitting on the third step up with a sigh. She put her head in her hands. Why did she always have to screw things up between them? Those thoughts were almost gone as soon as they rose to her mind, though, because no, he had screwed it up this time - it was him who jumped to conclusions and forgot his loving courtesy for a few minutes. But… maybe she should call him. Maybe she made a mistake on ending things, especially the way they did…

"No, Marley! He messed up, and you have every right to be furious! I mean, what boyfriend calls his girlfriend a slut, no matter how mad he is? So what if he didn't mean it? Considering the fact that he still said it, it must have been in his head somehow." A voice inside Marley's muddled brain spoke up, and it was proving very difficult for the brunette to ignore. "You know what? Don't let him ruin your fun. Relationships suck, and you knew that all along. What's the point in being with one guy for the long term anyways? You're young, you're sexy, and you're single now!" The brunette's mind reasoned, trying to make her see the positive, but Marley couldn't understand how these thoughts were meant to make her feel better right now.

"Hey, wasn't Kasey having a party tonight that she invited you to a few weeks ago?"

And that was all it took for her brain to switch back. Back to the junior year Marley; back to the fun, flirtatious, young teenager who didn't care for guys that were just going to plummet her self-esteem. Besides, the whole idea of spending her evening alone, crying into a tub of ice cream seemed boring anyways, so she decided to get up, walk up the stairs, clear her smudged makeup and enter her luxurious room with new – yet still wavering – confidence in her step. She looked at the clock beside her room's door – it was only 7pm. The party started at eight, and that gave her enough time to send a text to her Cheerio friend, decide what she was going to wear, reapply her makeup and drive there in time for the fun to truly begin.

Maybe the Glee Club was just holding her back this entire time. Moreover, everyone on the Cheerios and most guys on the sports teams had brushed past the whole fiasco that happened last year by now, so she could just be herself… if she wanted to. No hiding away, no concealing true colours – the misery could wait until the weekend. Turning to her iPod doc station, she quickly searched through her songs to find something fitting. It had been a long time since she had listened to anything from the charts personally, so she thought that maybe getting warmed up in preparation for the dubs of popular music (that would surely be the background music of the party) wouldn't hurt. Letting the easy chord progression weave its way to her eardrums, she finally felt assured enough to let her hair down from the high pony she had been wearing all day; she smoothed her fingers through her hair, soothing the scalp, before inspecting it in the mirror – it looked perfectly fine as it was, maybe just a brush through and a few loose curls for volume, but that was all that needed to be done.

The brunette then sashayed over to her walk-in closet, looking around for the perfect dress to wear. The array of colours activated a small smile at the corners of her mouth – she hadn't been to a party in so long, and she'd forgotten how ironically liberating it felt to wear a criminally skin tight dress - the ones that Ryder refused, saying she didn't need to wear garments like that to impress him. Of course that was sweet and something that made her heart turn molten in her body – and it was certainly a change from her past boyfriends – but she realised now how much she missed looking pretty for something; having people to impress. In the end, a gold-green and black lace dress with three-quarter length sleeves was selected, and she slid it on effortlessly over her modest, black lace undergarments which she had previously changed into upon getting home.

She sat back at her makeup table as she opened the desired palettes, brushes and tubes for the evening. Deciding in the end she wanted a misty look to go with her dark dress, she began applying her makeup, with dark, smoky eye shadow and winged eyeliner. This addition of makeup, like picking a dress, took time; it was not helped by the fact that her hand had taken on a tremble due to the rush of emotions from that night. Those thoughts still threatened to waver her concentration and accuracy on her makeup, reminding her of everything he had said – and every moment before that, as she went back to remembering all of the amazing opportunities he opened up for her –nonetheless, she had no choice but to brush those thoughts to the back of her mind with a flick of her mascara wand.

Finally, gracing her lips with a crimson shade and applying some bronzer to her cheekbones, she inspected her look in the full body mirror next to her wardrobe: the perfect dress, the perfect simple-but-dramatic makeup and, now, picking up a pair of black high heels, the perfect shoes. Now all was left was to style her hair a bit and grab her clutch bag, and just 20 minutes later after that, she was ready.


The thumping outside the house and the loud, muffled chatter immediately informed the blue-eyed girl that she was at the right address. She found that smirk which she had always been amicable with had crept up on her, but she didn't mind. Tonight, she could forget about him, and enjoy the party and the sensation of being single. Knocking on the door abruptly upon walking down the pathway to Kasey's house, she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, along with the thoughts of the night's events once more – it seemed to happen every time her focus wasn't already occupied, as if those thoughts were racing her other ones to find a bigger place in her fogged-up brain. The door opened in seconds.

"Marley!" The brunette was greeted by her slightly smaller, strawberry-blonde cheerleading colleague, who was fashioning a similarly short dress. Upon seeing one of her closest friends, Marley's face lit up.

"Kase! God, I'm so glad I could make it." The girl greeted back, using a long term nickname for the girl as she gave her a hug, which the smaller girl reciprocated.

"I'm glad you could too – everyone will be so happy that you're here!" Kasey beamed as she replied over the loud drum and bass track in the background. The girl peered around the space behind her friend, before asking a question that the brunette wanted most to avoid: "Where's Ryder?"

Those two words sent a sharp pain back through Marley as those thoughts were given a kick-start, winning that constant race in her mind once again. "Oh," Marley managed to say after a few seconds' delay. "Right, yeah. Um... we sort of broke up, a few hours ago. Hence why I'm here instead of with him." Marley said, not looking at her friend, but instead, everything else around her. She was trying desperately to occupy her brain with something else.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Kasey gaped, realising she shouldn't have asked. Kasey was one of Marley's only friends that truly accepted that she and Ryder were together.

"It's fine, don't worry. I…" Marley fumbled with her words, before concluding with: "I realised what a jerk he could be and called it off. I'm okay, seriously."

"Well, I'm still sorry." Kasey insisted, stroking up and down Marley's arm comfortingly. If anything, it made her more on edge. "But hey, nothing like a party to take your mind off it, right?" She smirked.

Despite her discomfort, the girl's smirk was contagious to Marley as she began to brighten up. "Yeah, I couldn't sit around eating ice cream when I could be embracing my first hours of singleness here."

"Well then, come in! Get yourself a drink in the kitchen. Seriously, as much as you want. The vodka supply needs to be gone before my parents even knew this happened." The Cheerio joked, letting her friend in. As the brunette walked into the party, scanning her eyes over the buzzing teenagers, she finally felt relaxed. She felt… at home here. And so, when more of the guests noticed her arrival, she met them halfway in chatter and hugs.

An hour later, Marley came to the conclusion that she really needed a drink, pronto. After an abundance of 'where's Ryder's, she decided that maybe this whole idea wasn't a good plan, and although she tried to deny it, she was definitely having withdrawal symptoms from that friendly, chaste, not creepy but always romantic arm that found itself draped over her shoulders, or those palms which ghosted her hips and waist. Everywhere she turned, he was there. But it was the version of him that she had only met for the first time that night, and his harsh words repeated themselves over and over in her mind; she needed something to quench her thirst and clear the memories away all at once. She knew exactly where to find that.

Attempting to obtain at least some of her seductive charm in her miserable state, she sashayed her way to the kitchen – which acted as a bar – and grabbed a red cup, sloshing in a very generous amount of vodka and topping it with coke to take some of the sting off soon after. Upon finally assembling her drink, she took a long swig, before setting the plastic cup back down on the counter. She looked emptily at the drink in the kitchen light, thinking for a good few seconds that she was about to cry, before her grim thoughts found themselves interrupted, both blissfully and painfully.

"Well, well, well, Marley Rose." A teenage boy, around six foot one, strode into the kitchen, up to the girl in question.

The blue-eyed girl looked at him, before smirking and instantly recognising his face. "Good evening, Mark Thompson." She batted her eyelashes at the boy, matching his formality. The two were acquainted, to say the least - but that was ages ago, in sophomore year, and the two never really had an official end to their fling – not meaning that they had hooked up since then, but in the sense that they only drifted apart, and never officially broke up. Besides, they were never exclusive, and it was just one of Marley's notorious casual affairs.

"What is innocent-bad-girl-turned-Glee-Clubber doing here at a house party?" Mark smirked.

"I got bored of being the girl next door. This lifestyle is way more fun than that PG crap." Marley deadpanned, leaning against the counter top. "And, besides, I knew everyone missed me around here."

"Well, you're certainly not wrong." The dark-haired boy simpered, leaning his muscular arm against the fridge nearby. "And, where is Justin Bieber himself?"

This caused a giggle to rise from the blue-eyed girl's throat. "Well, Thompson, despite Bieber's extremely high test scores, I came to the realisation a few hours ago that he is a dumb idiot, and upon my realisation, I broke up with him." Marley brushed off as she took another drink of her beverage.

"Wow. What did he do to snap you out of your sickeningly romantic trance, then?" Mark egged her on.

"He came to the stupid conclusion that I was cheating on him when I was really just rehearsing a dance number, and called me a slut." Marley spoke nonchalantly, earning a wince from her friend.

"Ouch," Mark exclaimed, making an observation which acted as an explanation to that one-word answer: "I didn't think Care Bear had it in him to be mean."

"Yeah, well…" Marley sighed. "Anyway, it's over. And I don't want to sound like some nauseating rom-com character, but… I'd prefer it if we didn't talk about it." The brunette spoke into her plastic cup, already finishing her drink in a long sip.

"And I don't want to sound like the stereotypical, rom-com best friend," Mark sneered, "but sure, we don't have to talk about it. Although, I will just say…" The boy leaned closer to Marley and mumbled into her ear, his warm breath caressing her skin, "He's a huge jerk."

The girl smirked at the boy's flirtatious attitude as she made herself another drink, then turned around to him with that omnipresent, enigmatic twinkle in her eye. "You're drunk, Mark."

"Maybe," The taller teenager reasoned, "but I'm positive that my eyes aren't fooling me when I tell you that you look so incredibly hot tonight." He bit his lip as he ogled at her.

"Yeah, no, you're definitely drunk." Marley confirmed, letting a sinful giggle escape her lips. "Go home, little boy."

"Not without you," Mark sniggered flirtatiously, causing his target to snort and raise an eyebrow quizzically.

"How much have you had to drink, sweetheart?" The brunette said, her voice as smooth as velvet as she began to lean her slender body against the kitchen counter.

"Does it matter?" Mark spoke almost incoherently. Then, upon seeing Marley's narrowed eyebrows, he chuckled. "I've had two beers. Now dance with me."

"What?" That sinful giggle was well and truly gone, and in its place was a new concept of confusion.

"Dance with me! I know how good your moves are, and I want a part of the action." The tall boy confirmed, giving her little room for excuse.

"Mark…"

"The old Marley Rose would." The boy hummed, tempting her, silencing any protests. Only a few seconds passed before she set down her drink and took his hand to the living room, masquerading as a dance floor.

And so they went, dancing and singing along wildly with their friends to the track on the stereo, and she had forgotten how liberating it felt. Her notes were slurred and off-key due to the alcohol she had so far consumed, and she knew it would become more off-key as the night went on, and she didn't care. She didn't care about Ryder for a few minutes, she didn't care about that ever-problematic Glee Club, or the betrayals of the evening so far – she was on her home turf, with her people, and she loved it. Every sip of alcohol was exhilarating, every dance move fuelling her growing energy. As she played drinking games, talked animatedly to everyone and flirted, she couldn't help but feel alive. As if ever since June, she was dead, and now she had been lifted out of that permanent slumber at long last; her soul was thriving. And effortlessly.

That was until a slow song found its way onto the stereo. Her initial, now-drunk personality caused her to yell "Booorrriiiiiingggg!" as the song made its way to her ears, but any other angry slurs were silenced by a tap on her shoulder. She turned around.

"May I have this dance?" Mark crooned, holding out his hand, making use of his notable charm as he swayed slightly from side to side in his merry state.

"Maaaaaark…" The girl trailed off, knowing what he was capable of doing. She had been down that road before, and could recall the same advances; the same ways of appealing to her.

"Come on, what's holding you back?" The tall man slurred. Marley knew what was holding her back – it was seemingly obvious in her expression, because the boy before her identified it immediately. "And don't say it's Four Eyes, Mar, because you broke up with him. Isn't it time to move on from that jerk?"

"It's been five hours." Marley whined, taking a swig of her drink. Oddly, her muddled brain provided logic in that moment.

But that observation still didn't quite rebuff his advances for good. "Exactly. And you know very well that five hours alone is long enough." Mark smirked.

"Maaaaaark…" The girl whimpered again. "I miss him. I miss my jerk of a boyfriend." She slurred in another wail, once again speaking the truth when a sober mind wouldn't have.

"Your jerk of an ex-boyfriend," Mark corrected, "called you a slut in front of your face."

For the first time that evening, Marley seemed flustered and silenced for a second. The taller boy almost thought she would be flabbergasted for an age with how dramatically she had halted, but she soon found her way onto a new (although weak) argument. "But he didn't meeeeaaaaaan it. He's so good to me."

"Then why are you here? Why are you spending your evening with me instead of with him?" Mark reminded her, causing her to sigh.

"Because I broke up with him," Marley said, now very confused and dumbfounded once more. "Didn't I?"

"Yes." The boy sneered, confirming her question as he lowered his head to her, attempting to be sympathetic as a new approach. "You broke up with him, and now, you can dance with me. And nothing has to happen." Mark soothed, though they both knew that he was lying – but that didn't stop Marley from finally caving, taking his hand as he wrapped his other arm around her waist. "See? This isn't so bad, is it?" He smirked.

"You smell good." Marley batted her eyelashes as she leant her head on his shoulder, only possible because of the high heels she was wearing.

"Guess who's drunk now…" The dark-haired boy sniggered, though his own slurring meant that he was equally wasted.

"Sssshhhhh, we're dancing." Marley cooed as she moved her hands to dangle around the back of his neck, with his own arms encircling her waist, smoothing his hands over the definite curve there. A tinge of her mind considered that as a betrayal, but that tinge fizzed out with another inhale of his cologne.

Mark giggled uncontrollably at Marley's eyes fluttering shut in front of him impulsively. "Is Little Miss Marley sleepy?"

"No, I'm just very comfortable here... with you." Her Dutch courage spoke for her, foolishly. That smidge of logic which was present once before had now vanished for the evening.

He grinned as the pair began to progress around in a slow circle. "Oh, really?"

"Mhmmmph." Marley giggled in response, before her eyes fluttered open to look at him, discovering only now that he was gawking at her. "What is it?"

"You're sexy when you're drunk." Mark observed as his mouth struggled to pronounce the words clearly.

"Oh, so I'm not sexy when I'm not drunk?" Marley challenged with a smirk.

"You know what my answer is, Rose."

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together at that bizarrely baffling retort. "No, I don't actually. My brain feels a bit like jelly right now. So you should tell me, otherwise I'll be sad."

Mark was finding her strange, annoying-yet-adorable personality more and more tedious – frankly, she hadn't been this hard to crack in the past, and he was losing patience, though he attempted to chuckle it off. "Shut up-"

"Don't make me sad." She chastised mockingly, pulling a charming frown in front of him before breaking out in quiet giggles.

"Okay, then." The boy whispered, and then, leaning down, he pressed their lips together, closing the gap between them, surprising her in an instant. It was soft, albeit slightly sloppy, and she could taste the alcohol on his lips, but they were warm and inviting – especially seeing as she had been craving any sort of affection for the last five hours or so. Several seconds passed, before Marley pulled away. That sober mind returned for a moment, and she knew - despite her single and drunken state - that this was wrong.

"Mark…" Marley spoke hoarsely in shock and warning - they both knew what could happen if they continued.

"Mar, Bieber's not here anymore. Do you see him anywhere? He's gone, okay?" The boy countered, and upon the inevitable sadness that Marley's face then projected, he lifted her chin up with his finger, leaving her no choice but to stare helplessly into his secretive gaze. "But I'm here now. You can channel all your emotions into something else. All these feelings, all these needs you have… You can finally give into them with me. Come on, it's time to let go. And you and I both know the perfect way to get over someone." He ended with a smirk.

She didn't know what it was, but in that moment, something snapped inside of her. All of these needs she had lovingly sacrificed for Ryder came back all at once. When she was dating Ryder, there were no needs, and she was happy taking it slow with him, but now… all of the thoughts she had hidden away for months returned and left an empty, aching feeling in her stomach. An aching feeling that needed to be filled, and she knew how. Mark was offering it to her on a silver platter, and it was preposterous, but it was also preposterously tempting.

Mark spurred her on again, by kissing the corner of her mouth, and she let him. Moments went by, where Marley's eyes never strayed from his lips. Her impractical lust grew.

"Marley, I know you want to. It's obvious."

"I…" The brunette breathed, as she continued with her internal battle. It was harder and harder to listen to her head, practically screaming at her not to; to slap him right in the face instead and stumble to Ryder's house to make up immediately. But her stomach ached for love, any sort of love that she could find, and she was so desperate for the feeling of someone's lips on hers again, of wandering hands, of someone telling her she looked beautiful rather than telling her she was a slut. So, after several moments of fighting with her own emotions, she finally decided which one was more important… in the same way she had made most decisions that night: foolishly. She couldn't change her stripes as she thought about the night so far: feeling so at home, having fun with old friends, being part of the popular and exciting crowd with whom she was well-acquainted. Besides, she knew that it was what the old Marley would have done. And since she wanted to go back in time to then, she figured that Mark would be her momentary time machine.

So she caved, using her hands that were wound around his neck to bring him closer to her and reconnecting their lips with passion and lust, Mark not hesitating for a second to reciprocate.


The next morning, Marley woke up slowly, letting out a groggy whimper as her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. A bright light was coming from the huge window opposite the bed, and she groaned, protesting against the sunlight. Her head was pounding, and she clamped her eyes back shut.

What even happened last night?

She begins to recall, remembering vague recollections of drinks, people, music… and after a few more minutes, a wail from between her lips punctured the air of the room softly as she began to recollect the meatier aspects of yesterday. Ryder. Yelling, crying, throwing the promise ring at him before bawling all the way home. They broke up, and recalling that was enough for more memories to come flooding back into her clouded brain: getting ready for the party, arriving, Kasey, dancing, singing, beer pong… but there was something else; something else that Marley couldn't put her finger on, no matter how hard she tried to scavenge through her cluttered brain and rewind her blurry vision from last night. She remembered walking, stumbling in zigzags to someone's driveway, giggling uncontrollably…

She felt a rustle of bed sheets next to her, and couldn't bear to open her eyes again, so she assumed that it was the cat. Yes, the cat.

But Marley didn't have a cat.

And suddenly, this wasn't her bed. This wasn't her room. And this all became very apparent when she felt lips graze along her jawline, along with a groggy voice sniggering: "Good morning, sexy."

Marley's eyes shot open as her hung-over brain finally comprehended everything, looking around her to confirm her suspicions: someone else's room, someone else's bed, but… the clothes and undergarments strewn across the floor of the bedroom were undoubtedly hers. She bit her lip and prepared herself for the worst, as she turned to her left – a dark-haired boy, covered by the thin white sheets, stubble gracing his lower face as he smirked at her, his hand caressing her far waist in the most sickening, seductive way; Marley became very aware of the feeling of her bare skin against the duvet.

She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, rubbing violently, as if she could rub away reality and the memories of last night, but alas, all she rubbed away was her makeup – the heels of her palms were now dusted in black; she probably looked awful, but there were more important things to care about at that moment in time. More important things that she wished she could forget or change, but things that needed attention in her clogged up brain… if only he gave her the chance to do that.

Suddenly feeling very exposed, she tugged at the bed sheets that covered her, pulling them right up to her collarbones so there was no chance of him seeing her like last night again. She turned to him again with a frustrated sigh, then asked gingerly: "Are you… naked?"

"Don't act all innocent with me, Rose," Mark sneered sleepily. "You can't pretend that last night wasn't amazing."

"I don't remember much of it… or, what you're hinting at, anyway." Marley insisted, feeling increasingly ill as the realisation of last night sunk in with his cloying words.

"We were both pretty drunk, Mar. But that doesn't change how awesome it was." The boy replied with a mischievous grin.

Her frustration was reaching new levels; frankly, she was afraid for the both of them as this red hot sensation rose to her throat. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"Well, you did have a lot of vodka last night-"

"No, no, not because of that, no." Marley blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut. This couldn't be happening. "Last night was a mistake."

"Care to explain how?" Mark smirked. "You're single, I'm single, and it was a simple little fling. Nothing to get your panties in a twist."

"No, it was a mistake." Marley persisted with added annoyance, putting her head in her hands. "A huge mistake."

"Is this about Bieber?"

Marley stayed silent. Ryder. It didn't matter that they were broken up, she still felt like she had performed an act of betrayal. That was something she vowed never to do, but here she was, lying in another man's bed on a Saturday morning after a drunken mistake.

Her muteness connected the dots for the tall boy. "Of course it is." He said exhaustedly. "Let it go, Marls. Care Bear's not here anymore. Stop wasting your time and be with someone who will actually put out-"

"Sometimes relationships aren't just about "putting out", Mark." Marley grumbled between her fingers. She dragged her hands down her face, letting out a sigh, then bit her lip, leaning back in the bed.

"Mar," Mark began after a long silence. The girl turned her body away from him, looking instead at his bedside lamp. He huffed in response to her movements, and edged over to her side of the bed, running his hand up and down her hip – the way Ryder used to, but it was far from the same. The action repulsed her now. "Don't say you regret last night. You were all over me." He mumbled, kissing her ear.

"I was drunk, Mark." The girl breathed. "I was alone and desperate and completely wasted, and you took advantage of that. You knew I would be all over you."

"Why are you so dissatisfied? You were in need of adoration and I gave it to you. I was just giving you what you wanted." Mark reminded her as his lips moved to her neck. The brunette tore herself away in an instant and sat up.

"You made me cheat! You tempted me when you knew I couldn't say no!" She exclaimed.

"Who were you cheating on exactly, Marley? Ryder? Because you broke up with him! You had no one to cheat on!" The boy recalled, irritated that he wasn't getting the usual 'morning-after treatment'.

"I proved him right! Ryder calls me a slut, and then I sleep with someone else less than 7 hours later! Don't you see that?" Marley yelled, then calmed herself down, taking a few breaths. "I should go."

"No, stay-"

"And do what? Go for another round? You're a pig." Marley spat as she turned her body to the side of the bed, letting the sheets fall from her upper body as she put her underwear and bra back on with her back to him.

"Let me give you some aspirin, your hangover probably kills." Mark tried to reason with her.

"Aw, you're a true gentleman, Mark Thompson." The cerulean-eyed girl spat back sarcastically.

They stayed in silence whilst she zipped her dress back up and searched around the room for her heels and purse, putting the jewellery she wore last night in her clutch upon finally finding it. Mark shook his head. "Maybe I took advantage of you, and that was wrong. And I'm sorry. But the old Marley wouldn't-"

"The old Marley isn't here anymore, so save us both some time and stop clinging onto that fantasy." Marley shot back, interrupting him as she slid on her second shoe. "Goodbye, Mark. Thank you for a pleasant evening." She chuckled humourlessly, before leaving his house.

Luckily, Mark lived only a few blocks away from Kasey, so a few minutes of angry striding was all it took to retrieve her car.

Once inside the vehicle, Marley stayed motionless, both hands on the wheel, though she had no intentions of driving home just yet. She bit her lip as her eyes began to well up with tears at a rapid pace. She stayed like that, crying, sniffing, whimpering for a good few minutes, occasionally whispering "what have I done?" as more tears streamed down her complexion, ruining her already-smudged makeup. Minutes passed, until she decided to get her phone out of her purse and check if she had any texts. 9 missed calls. She tapped into her phone, not bothering to see who they were from, then pressed the device to her ear.

"Marley, baby, I'm so sorry. I was a huge jerk, I know. I shouldn't have said what I said, and you know I didn't mean it… but I guess that doesn't matter to you, does it? …Listen, I don't blame you for ending things between us. I went too far. I jumped to conclusions. But, all I'm saying is… please give me another chance. We can make this work, and go back to the way we were before everything got in the way. I love you so much, Marley. Please, just… just call me back when you get this. I love you."

Marley choked out a few sobs as she listened to the voicemail. His voice was so filled with desperation and longing, with passion and desire… yet she had thrown everything away with a few drinks. She listened to the next voicemail with her flaming anger sizzling easily into profound regret.

"I can't stop thinking about you. My brain won't quit replaying everything: how one minute, you're caressing my cheek and acting so sweet, reassuring me about you and Sam… and the next, you're crying and telling me never to go near you again. I can't believe I said those words to you, Marls. I didn't even recognise them as they came out of my mouth. Please, please, please know that it wasn't me. I don't think of you like that; I trust you more than anything in the world not to cheat on me." Those words hit Marley particularly hard. "I'll never stop apologising for what I did. I'll never stop wishing that I could go back in time and not become jealous for no reason the way I did. I love you so, so, so much, Marley. More than you will ever know. And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what I did to you. Please call me."

"I love you too…" Marley sniffled into the receiver, though she knew he couldn't hear. The 7 other messages were similar, desperation growing more and more in his voice with every one. Marley was sobbing uncontrollably at the end of them all, despising herself with every word of adoration which slipped unsuspectingly across his naïve tongue. Every time he said that he trusted her, a shiver erupted through her spine and a sharp pain returned to her head – both the events and her foolish drinking were to blame for that. Every time he said he wanted to go back in time, she whispered that she wanted to do the same, as if he was next to her instead of miles away. Never had she been so distant and felt so distant from him; never had she felt so tortured, so awful; never had she felt so much hatred for herself.

After 20 minutes of crying, she finally calmed down enough to make a call. Pressing on the name and initiating a request, holding her iPhone up to her cheek, the person picked up instantly. "Hey, Mar."

"H-Hey." Marley sniffled back as more tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Is everything okay?"

"No, not really." Marley whimpered through more sniffles. "Santana, I did something really stupid and I need you to help me."


Yeah… sorry. I had it planned since October. Besides, I'm too mean to keep their relationship happy, aren't I? Marley's dress for Kasey's party is in my bio for those who are interested, too... if not, maybe it will take your mind off all the heartbreak I gave you in this chapter?

In other news, who freaked out about Melissa in her Supergirl costume? I was so hyper, even though this whole week I've been so incredibly drained – blame the school musical (I can't stop singing Grease now, aaah).

What angered me beyond belief, though, are those not-so-nice comments, saying things like her boobs are too small, or the costume wasn't "sexy" or "revealing enough". Some people are even saying she looks like a librarian, and I saw one person saying she looked like a "ditsy soccer mom in a cosmetic store". What the hell is that even supposed to mean? How can people just make instant conclusions that she isn't the right Supergirl because she isn't showing her cleavage, her legs and stomach etc.? 1) It isn't her fault for wearing a costume, 2) Have you heard of sexism? It exists and you're flaunting it with your dumb superheroine standards. Kindly be quiet.

Twitter rants aside… please review if you can, I'd love to hear your thoughts. A special gold star goes out to the lovely Tif S for her comments and observations, and for her awesome stories right now. You slay!

-Beth :)