So a few months passed without much incident. Mark and I got along pretty well.
We could banter, could flirt like friends, we argued about whose turn it was to do dishes, I did my job at night, he recorded videos for his YouTube channel, which I found out about when I heard him scream and burst into the room, worried about him being hurt or something.
All in all, we were good friends.
"Never have I ever….. cheated on a test." I smiled as Bob took a drink of his beer. Mark and Wade laughed. We were sitting down around the living room, beers in hand, playing never have I ever.
"What? It was in 2nd grade!"
"Go Wade." Wade's face scrunched up in thought, then he smiled. "Never have I ever gotten a tattoo."
I took a drink of my beer amidst the shocked laughed of the boys. "Henna is considered, by social standards, to be a tattooing method. I had it done for a production of a Midsummer Night's Dream."
"Where?"
"Left hip, stomach, arms and legs. Mark, go."
"Never have I ever….. been to a strip club." Everyone but Mark drank. The boys all stared at me.
"It was for a class, ok?"
OK, so that wasn't the exact truth.
I'm not really all that proud to say this, but my late night job was pole dancing. And I was really, really good at it.
Almost as good as I was at ballet. I just told Mark I worked for a friend, or that I didn't want to talk about it, or if he pushed, I told him that I danced.
"Never have I ever had sex with a woman." A wicked smile crossed my face as the boys were forced to drink.
Sometimes, avoiding the topic was best for all parties involved.
XxXxX
Unfortunately, I couldn't avoid it tonight.
Bob and Wade came to take Mark out for his birthday. And they took him to my work.
It was my night to perform.
Shit.
Bob and Wade had paid for the performer of the night to give Mark 'special treatment'.
Meaning I had to dance around Mark in a non-existent outfit.
SHIT SHIT SHIT.
"Benji, can't Marissa take the special dance tonight?" Benji was a good friend who taught some of the ballet classes, and the owner of the club Magenta AKA my work.
"Sorry, nope, but why are you avoiding this guy? He's kinda cute." I sighed and ran a hand over my face.
"I know he's cute, I live with him!" Benji's head snapped to mine, his platinum blonde hair flipping.
"Say whaaaaaa? Does he know?" I shook my head. "Sorry baby girl, but you got to do it. You're on the solid pole tonight." I sighed. "Go throw on your mask and the silver outfit." I walked off, sad, before picking up the silver outfit, slipping it on, putting on the 4 inch heels, tying my mask to my face, and plastering on a fake as hell smile.
"Gentlemen, for your pleasure tonight, may I present our lovely Sugar Plum Fairy!" I strutted out, smiling my fake ass smile. Dark Horse started playing and I spun on that pole, making it my bitch. Occasional glances let me see that Mark was either slightly disgusted or annoyed at the situation. I sighed internally. Of course he wouldn't like the idea of a girl dancing on a pole in minimal clothing. He went to get up and leave when I quickly grabbed the microphone.
"I hear we have a birthday boy in the house!" His face was shocked. I casually walked down and took his hand, taking him up to the stage. I glanced up to his eyes and saw recognition in his face. Fuck.
"Sorry Mark." I then danced around him, not really touching him unless I had to. I did this for about 5 minutes before smiling at him, kissing him on his cheek, and sending him back to his seat. I forced another huge fake smile onto my face as I walked off stage. He knew.
Fuck.
XxXxX
"You ok baby girl?" I shook my head as I slid back into my hoodie at the end of the night.
"I'll be fine Benji. I just want to get home." He nodded, handing me my bag.
"Call me if you need me." I smiled and nodded, before getting into my car and driving home. Getting home didn't make me feel any better either. It was dark and quiet, and the silence pounded down on me, but the guilt pounded harder. I sighed, slipping off the hoodie, putting my keys down on the counter. I went to look at the light switch, but didn't turn it on.
"Were you ever going to tell me the truth about your job?" I spun around to see Mark sitting on the couch, head resting on his hands.
"Would you have been willing to hear?" Our eyes connected, and Mark's eyes screamed hurt. I stepped forward, tired, sad, and kinda angry. "Would you have been willing to listen when the woman you live with, a ballerina of high esteem, told you she spent most of her nights swinging on a pole?!"
"I would have been willing to listen rather than have you lie!" He stood up and walked forward.
"Did I lie?! Did I ever tell you I did something other than dancing?" We were almost face to face, our height difference accentuated, his 5'11" towering over my 5'3" stature.
"You didn't tell me you danced like a whore!" A crack resounded through the room. My hand stung, and tears filled my eyes. His face was turned slightly with the force behind the slap.
"How. Dare. You." I backed away from him. "Fuck you Mark. For all you preach of having an open mentality, yours is pretty fucking closed." I grabbed my keys again and stormed out of the apartment. It would be the last time I spoke to Mark for 3 weeks.
I threw myself into ballet. I threw myself into work. I couldn't sleep anymore. I worked myself to exhaustion only to wake up screaming with nightmares I could never remember. Mark… He threw himself into his account, and his fans came up with an excuse for his darker personality. It became known as Darkiplier. Personally, it kinda creeped me out, but I never said a word. I wouldn't.
I couldn't.
I had been called a whore so many times when the way I danced ballet was seen, my moves passionate and sensual, but with skill and accuracy. Mark calling me a whore stung to the deepest depths of my soul.
But I refused to apologise for doing something I loved.
"Annie, you have to talk to him sometime." I shook my head at Benji. "You can't lock out everyone who hurts you." I sighed, running my finger over my pale blue mask of the night.
"I know. But let me be stubborn and try."