I came into college dating my high school sweetheart, who my parents had banned me from seeing nine months into the relationship, yet we were still going strong after two years. My going off to college was a major challenge in our relationship, but I was certain I would never stop loving him.

Then Phillip came along.

I had met Phillip in the summer during orientation, and though he was the polar opposite of me we instantly clicked. While I was the naïve, Catholic schoolgirl, he was the intelligent, popular extrovert who partied, smoked, and did drugs. He was one of the nicest, most centered people I have ever known, yet he gave off the bad-boy vibe, which was one of the many reasons I was attracted to him.

We ran into each other again on move in day and our initial connection came back, as if we had known each other for more than just the two days of orientation. We started hanging out on a daily basis, aimlessly walking around town and campus talking about life. He explained to me the different ways to hold a cigarette and what that could tell you about a person, and he was kind enough to walk on the opposite side of me when the wind was blowing so his smoke would not get in my face.

Phillip began to show me how college life could be carefree and exciting. All the adventures were up to you with no rules. He would pick me up on random weeknights, no earlier than 10:30 p.m., and we would go to the local beach, walk along the shore, and star gaze, my head resting on his chest. Or he would drive me through his hometown and take me to the park where he always went as a child. One time, we stopped at a lake where a bunch of people had their boats docked and we jumped into multiple boats, looking around for what people had left behind, and then once again, lying down and gazing at the stars.

To say the least I fell hard for Phillip; his charm and outlook on life were hard not to be attracted to. But there was one problem: I was in a relationship. This did not stop Phillip because even though he was out partying and socializing like a normal college student, I was still receiving texts at late hours of the night, and to my knowledge, I was the only girl he ever took out on these late-night adventures.

My love for him rapidly grew as the semester rolled along, and one night I was given the chance to finally be with him. The two of us were in my room one night (my roommate conveniently gone), the lights were off, the television was blaring, and the two of us were lying next to each other on my bed. Pretty soon Philip's arm had snaked around me and he pulled me closer to him. My heart was beating a mile a minute, because I did not know what to make of this, yet at the same time I wanted to get closer.

Phillip pulled me in and his hand started lightly running up and down my back, occasionally massaging my shoulders. It did not take much for my insides to melt and it took a lot of self-control to not moan out loud. Without warning, Phillip began leaving a trail of light kisses up and down my neck, soon getting closer and closer to my mouth. My entire body was on fire, begging me to turn my head just enough to kiss him back, but the little voice inside my head was working overtime, reminding me I was in a relationship with someone else and this was wrong.

I pulled away, telling Phillip I could not do this, but he persisted a bit more, making it even harder the second time to say no. He understood though, and stopped his pursuit, but his arm stayed around me the rest of the night.

After that night, Phillip and I still hung out like normal, but at the end of the semester he transferred and I never heard from him again.

My relationship with my boyfriend ended two years later, and I have regretted that night ever since. I regret not kissing Phillip and giving into my desire. My religious upbringing held me back, and not a day goes by where I don't think "What if…?"

I'm not making that mistake again. I'm not that girl anymore.

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Illustration by Michele Moricci. Find him on Facebook.

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