"It was awesome! So romantic!" Nancy grinned, grabbing a spoon to savor the lemon cheesecake mousse the waiter had just brought. "Alex was amazing and sooo hot!"

Emma grimaced for a moment on his behalf: he hated being called that. A second later, however, she remembered who was she talking to and what had she been doing behind her friend's back, therefore grimaced a second time, out of guilt. At each word Nancy proffered, at each recount of the amazing weekend she'd spent with her boyfriend, Emma felt more and more sick to her gut. She couldn't continue like that. Nancy ought to know.

Hello, gorgeous ... up for a midnight snack?

A message broke through Emma's thoughts. Speak of the devil ... she mentally rolled her eyes. Knowing full well that Nancy was too engulfed in her vivid description of the time spent with 'Alex' to pay attention to her, Emma replied to his text:

I'm with your girlfriend right now!

Why did he keep on messaging? Last night she'd told him: it was over. Why couldn't he understand just how deeply that affair was tearing her apart? Every time, he silenced her with a kiss, and every single time, she fell for it, only to feel worse and worse when she stood from his bed.

Two months. She had been lying to her only friend for two entire months. Emma couldn't take it anymore, so she'd broken it off, but apparently, he hadn't gotten the memo.

I need to see you

Alexander sent. Emma sighed perceptibly enough for anyone to notice, but Nancy was still going on and on about her wonderfully romantic weekend.

You need your fix, that's more like it

She gritted her teeth while pressing send. It was a lost cause, he just would never accept that their affair should have ended after the first night, continuing made them both the worst of the worst. Sense of guilt gnawed at her every single day and night, yet he didn't seem bothered at all. Maybe he'd done this before, maybe she was just the umpteenth woman he cheated on his girlfriend with. Maybe that was one more reason to tell Nancy. She ought to know her oh, so perfect Alex was a serial cheater, didn't she?

Hey, I said midnight snack, not sex

The nerve! How dare he? Not only he led her into temptation, he even dared joke about it. Stupid sexy devil. If only his touch wasn't so intoxicating, if only her knees didn't quiver every time he touched her, if only her heart didn't go ablaze every time he kissed her.

Emma shook her head: excuses, only excuses. It was her fault as much as his, claiming he was irresistible was only a way for her to relieve her conscience, which she didn't deserve. When would she ever learn not to entangle with the wrong people? Her history with men should have taught her better.

Don't you feel guilty? You've been together for a year now!

Emma tried one more time to make him reason. Nancy hadn't noticed anything, she was still too taken by her interminable monologue. Her friend was very much in love with her own voice, Emma was well aware – and after all, what lawyer wasn't?

A: Guilt has been my loyal companion all my life, I'm used to it

She frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Emma was also well aware that Alexander was way more than what the eyes met, in two months even she had noticed that behind the ragged beauty, behind the sexy tattoos and the annoying smartass there was something deeper.

That fiery gaze of his hid demons she wasn't ready to unravel. And those scars ... she'd never dared touch that tattooed skin after the first night, but there were times when she just couldn't avoid thinking, wondering, pondering. But alas, it wasn't her place to ask nor know.

E: Well, I do feel guilty. And it's over. Deal with it.

She sent, barely catching the end of Nancy's sentence. "Sorry, what?" She quickly hid her phone, afraid her friend would want to know who she'd been texting.

Nancy eyed her, suspicious, but she didn't mention it. "I asked, what news on the job front?" She inquired instead, albeit more focused on her dessert.

Emma blinked her eyes, trying to avert her thoughts from the unnerving tempting devil that fogged her judgment. When would she ever learn? "Oh, uh ... I have an interview tomorrow, but I don't hold many hopes."

"Why not?"

Emma sighed. Nancy made everything sound so easy. According to her, everything was within grasp ... that may be true for a smart educated young woman that came from a wealthy family, but for someone that either didn't have a past or had a history that came back to bite her every single time she tried to make something of herself, there weren't many options. "You know how it is, I'm not qualified enough." She put it simply, which wasn't even a lie. She'd gone to multiple interviews, but they all gave her the same answer: not qualified enough. After all, it didn't take much to be better suited than her at any job.

"You should try evening classes, then community college." Nancy suggested straightforwardly. "I mean, no offense, Em, but you don't even have a high school diploma, who do you think is gonna pick you over the legions of educated women out there?"

Emma bit on her bottom lip, well aware of her chances – or rather, of the lack thereof. "Yeah, I know, but ..." She couldn't really say it all, could she? "I don't think that's the right choice for me." More than just about the money, it was about her past.

"Then what is?" Her friend furrowed her perfect eyebrows. "Slaving away in a kitchen? Jumping from one diner to the other because this or that guy grabbed your ass?" Nancy scoffed. "If you weren't that picky, I could hook you up with an escort agency."

Emma rolled her eyes. Her friend had said those things before, especially about the escort agency. Emma always forgave, because Nancy didn't know she had stooped lower than that before, and she'd sworn to herself that she never would again. Escort services and prostitution weren't that far away from each other, she knew that all too well. "I'll think about it." Was her standard response.

Nancy shrugged, then stood up to go to the restroom. As she watched her friend walk away, Emma couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. Nancy had a perfect life. She was born in a wealthy family, had a lot of friends, she'd had the education a smart woman like her deserved, and was incredibly successful at her job – enough to be the youngest associate to be looking at a promotion to partner of her law firm. How could fate be so cruel? Two girls born in the same year, just in different circumstances, had such a different life.

She often wondered, what if ... what if she had made some different decisions? What if she'd been born in a different family? What if she'd taken a different path? But it was useless. Her life was what it was, and so it shall remain, because every time she tried, something immediately pushed her off course. Like having an affair with her only friend's boyfriend. Trouble seemed to be always waiting behind the corner for her, and as much as she tried, she seemed unable to steer away from it.

Six months in New York and she'd already changed 12 jobs, no place lasted more than a month or even only two weeks. The handsy client she punished, the pervy boss that demanded a different kind of overtime, the employer's husband that got a little too interested in her, awakening his wife's jealousy, then the one that tried to use against her the obligation she had to disclose her felonies at every interview. There was always something. But maybe Nancy was right, Emma considered in a sigh, maybe she should be more compliant and less fierce. Beggars can't be choosers, after all.

Having barely eaten her Caesar's salad, Emma flagged down a waiter, wanting to ask if they could bag it for her – at the current state of her finances, she could not afford any kind of waste. She always took home whatever she ate when she went out with her friend, and always asked for it when her friend was out of sight – there was no reason for Nancy to know just how bad her situation was. She would never understand, Emma thought, rich people never understood the struggles of poverty.

Since her friend was still in the restroom, Emma decided to check her phone, even though she perfectly knew the only messages would be from one person and one only.

You know, I think last time you left your bra ... you don't want to leave evidence behind, do you? 😉

Case in point, it was Alexander. She sighed, sagging her shoulders.

E: You blackmail me now?

A: Let's call it a bargain ...

E: It doesn't work

A: What would?

E: Nothing! Just give up. Forget anything ever happened!

She'd sent a text, but it felt like she'd yelled those words at him, even though she knew she never would. It was as if he drained all of her strengths yet made her stronger at the same time. She could not resist to him, yet at the same time he pushed her to be more assertive. He got on her every single nerve, yet his gentle smile soothed those nerves the same way as food would pacify a starving wolf. There was something about Alexander Adams that compelled her to keep going, to keep seeing him every time, go to him every time he called. It was an addiction Emma didn't know how to get rid of.

She shook her head violently. No, there were no excuses for her behavior. She'd done a lot of awful things, but this one passed them all. Nancy might have not been the greatest friend, but she didn't deserve what they'd been doing to her.

A: She just texted me, said she's going home. I'll wait for you

Emma frowned. Didn't Nancy have a business dinner? It was the whole reason they'd seen each other so early instead of going out for a few drinks. Why did she lie to her boyfriend? She said that dinner would be extremely important for her career, why wouldn't she want her boyfriend to know?

As she watched her friend come back from the restroom, Emma shook her head. Just because she was a cunning little hoe, she told herself, that didn't mean Nancy was, too. She would never cheat on Alexander. All the talks about how he was always so amazing, so romantic, so incredible, not to mention the recounts of their wild nights ... no, Nancy would never cheat on him. She loved him. Emma felt sick to her gut all over again. "There's a special place in Hell for people like me ..." she muttered to herself as she typed the message: I'll be there in 20.