Last night was a blur. Well...not all of it. I could remember our most intimate moments in perfect detail, as if they were in slow motion, but the aftermath was what had me confused.

After bringing me a glass of water and handing me my clothes, Peyton had told me she was tired and bid me goodnight. I wasn't necessarily expecting a 'post sex cuddle' (if it really even was 'sex') but I suppose I had hoped she would hang around for a little while longer.

After she had gone to bed, I lay downstairs on the couch feeling confused. I in no way had any regrets about what had just happened, but I did want to know what it meant to Peyton. She had initiated it, so I had to assume that she wanted to do it, but as always her actions afterwards left me confused and filled with self doubt. Did she regret it?

I trudged slowly to the bathroom the next morning after having fallen asleep on the downstairs couch. It felt like a lifetime ago that I was in this bathroom, picking up after Peyton when she left the towels and products all over the floor.

After washing my hair and my body, I sat on the floor of the shower and let the water run over me, wondering if there was anything I could have done to have made Peyton want to stay. I didn't know how long I stayed there for, but when I got out my fingers were wrinkled and resembled prunes. As I dried myself off in the mirror, twisting my wet hair up into my towel, I noticed a deep red mark that had formed on my neck overnight. I may not have been well informed when it came to sex, but I knew a hickey when I saw one.

My eyes travelled down to my chest where I saw lighter bruises littering my skin. I hadn't even felt Peyton making these, being too enamoured in the pleasure she was giving me. I wasn't angry, but I'd just never seen my body look like this, nor expected it to.

I threw on a tank top and tracksuit pants before making my way downstairs, passing Peyton's now open bedroom door. I could hear her talking and laughing downstairs, responding to muffled voices that were no doubt coming from her phone. I instantly felt insecure, realising that the last time she had spoken to someone on the phone, she had insulted me. I thought twice about joining her, but it was too late.

"Morning," she smiled at me as I emerged from the staircase, patting the cushion next to her on the couch.

I sidled over toward her, sitting next to her and pulling my legs up to rest my chin on my knees. I readjusted the towel to hide the red mark on my neck, hoping that no one would see it.

"G'morning," I mumbled, giving her a shy smile.

"Say good morning, boys," Peyton said to her phone, facing the screen towards us as she put her arm around me and pulled me into her side.

"Morning!" they all chorused.

I knew deep down that Peyton wouldn't acknowledge what happened between us last night, especially in front of the boys, but that didn't stop me from wishing that she had pulled me in and kissed me good morning. Long gone were the days where I had questioned my attraction and feelings for Peyton. I knew for certain how I felt and it didn't bother me at all. The only thing that bothered me was the fact that I had absolutely no idea if Peyton felt the same way.

"Who would've thought we'd see the day where McMann and Mitchell actually became friends!" one of the boys, Liam, said with a laugh.

Peyton's arm pulled me in tighter, ruffling the towel on top of my head.

"Zara has been a very good hostess," she chuckled, smirking at me. "And I'd say I've been a pretty decent guest."

"Eh, you've been alright," I joked, and she shoved me playfully.

"Woah, woah, woah," one of the boys suddenly said. "McMann, what the fuck is on your neck?"

My hand instantly flew to the spot where I knew the hickey was plastered on my skin. I saw Peyton's eyes widen as she looked at me, and in that moment we both knew we were fucked.

"Oh, it's just a bruise. I got hit yesterday with a tennis ball while playing with my dog," I lied pathetically, my tone nervous and quiet.

"Nah, bro, that's a fucking hickey!" another boy said. "Damn, Peyton, you actually got in? Didn't think you had it in ya!"

"James, you owe me fifty bucks!" I heard another person say.

I looked at Peyton in horror and watch as her eyes flicker back and forth from me to her phone anxiously.

"Wh — what?" I stammered, looking at Peyton for answers.

I got none.

I ripped Peyton's arm from around me and leapt up from the couch, storming up the stairs. I could feel the back of my throat burning as tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. I could hear Peyton call after me before saying "Geez, thanks a lot, guys!" to the boys as I ran to my room, slamming the door shut behind me.

I didn't even try to stop the tears from falling as I sobbed into my pillow. Peyton obviously wasted no time in following me, knocking on my door before letting herself in.

"Zar..." she said softly, but I ignored her.

"Zara, please let me explain what just happened," she pleaded, and I ignored her once again, my face still pressed firmly into the pillow.

"Alright, well...I'm just going to talk, okay?" she continued to speak.

As much as I hated myself for it, I did want to hear what she had to say. I sniffled quietly and waited for her to keep talking.

"I had nothing to do with any of those bets," she spoke. "The boys all mentioned weeks ago that they thought I'd try something with you because they knew I thought you were hot, but I had no idea they were betting on it. I'm not surprised, but I genuinely had no idea."

I rolled over onto my back and sat up, wiping my cheeks free of any stray tears. She shuffled closer to me and nervously reached her hand out, placing it on my knee.

"Please believe me when I say I had no part in that," she said sincerely, and I nodded my head.

"I believe you."

And I did believe her. How could I not, with the way her eyes bore into mine and her hand nervously gripped my knee. I figured it was now or never to ask Peyton how she felt about last night, about me, about everything. I took a deep breath, my hands shaking in anticipation.

"You don't regret it, though, do you?" I asked nervously.

"What?" she almost scoffed. "No, of course I don't! I was worried that you regretted it. You don't, do you?"

Her rambling was cute, and I had to hide the smile that was creeping onto my face at her admission. She didn't regret it, that in itself was a relief.

"No, I don't regret it. But...I am confused about a few things," I admitted.

"About what?"

"Just...do you — do you have feelings for me?" I stammered pathetically, picking at a loose thread on my bed covers and refusing to meet her gaze.

"Do we really have to get into the politics of feelings?" Peyton sighed, running a hand through her hair.

Her response angered me and I puffed my chest out, grabbing my blanket and pulling it up to my chin.

"Yes, we do," I said angrily.

"Why?" she rolled her eyes, "It's so unnecessary!"

"Because you not only took my first kiss, but my virginity too! And I don't want to be giving my body to someone who is only interested in using it!" I snapped at her.

"I'm not using you, Zara," she said.

"Well, if you don't have feelings for me then that's exactly what you're doing!" I raised my voice. "If you haven't figured it out by now, Peyton, I actually like you. And I thought maybe you might feel the same, but clearly I was wrong. You can leave."

My chest was heaving quickly as I finished yelling at her, pointing at the door for her to leave. Tears were spilling over my cheeks but I didn't care enough to wipe them. I was beyond angry, I was livid.

"Zara..." she began.

"Leave!" I yelled, before lying back down and pulling the blanket over my head.

I heard her sigh loudly, and a few moments later the mattress creaked as she stood up and walked towards the door. She closed the door behind her as she left, and it was in that moment that I let the emotions rush out of me. I sobbed loudly into my pillow, not caring if she could hear me, not caring if she felt any sort of guilt. I should've known better than to let her worm her way into me, physically and emotionally.

I didn't leave my room for the rest of the day, refusing to eat the food that Peyton left in front of my door. She knocked every hour or so, hoping to get a response out of me, but I didn't give her the satisfaction of succeeding. To say I was hurt would be an understatement. I was absolutely shattered. I let her get close to me, break down my walls, be intimate with me both physically and emotionally, and she couldn't even give me the respect of telling me how she felt.

How hard was it to be honest with me? To tell me how she felt. She had no issues showing her distaste for me in the past, so why, all of a sudden, was it an issue?

I cried myself to sleep that night, praying to a God that I didn't believe in, hoping that she felt the same way as I did.