Seven Days of Sin: The Hockey King's Roommate

I always have a plan. Even in kindergarten, I had a plan. While other kids were busy eating paste and crying over nothing, I had already figured out the seating chart and decided which teacher's aide was the most useful. My mom used to joke that I came out of the womb with a to-do list. Even now at twenty two, I have a plan. 4.0 GPA, a graduation ceremony in six days, and a fiancé Derek who has been my boyfriend since sophomore year. I have it all figured out. Right up until Thursday, the fifth when my study group disbands three hours early. I come home early from the library. And by home, I mean Derek's place. I drive over without texting him first because I've done it a hundred times and it's never been a thing. Derek is an easy, uncomplicated person who is usually happy to see me, and I am usually happy to see him, and it has always been that simple. I let myself in with my key, drop my bag by the door, slip off my heels and set them neatly on the mat. Force of habit. I'm on the third step when I hear a sound coming from the bedroom. "Der, stop." I freeze. My hand grips the railing. "Seriously," the voice continues, and there is laughter in it. "She could walk in any second." The air leaves my lungs. "She won't," Derek says with a muffled voice that suggests his face is pressed somewhere. "She's never back before midnight on Thursdays. Relax." "You're so bad," the voice giggles and oddly, it sounds too familiar. Who is that? My throat closes up and my fingers tighten around the railing. No. No, no, no. That's not... he wouldn't. This is a misunderstanding. Derek would never. He loves me. We are getting married. This is some ridiculous misunderstanding. I’m going to walk up there, and it’s going to be something else. Maybe the TV is on? Maybe he’s helping a friend? In five minutes I will feel foolish for even imagining the worst. I exhale slowly. Then I walk to the bedroom door and open it. The sight greeting me drops my jaw. The bedsheets and duvet are twisted on the bed. And in the middle of it, Kayla. My Kayla. My stepsister, her head flung back in pleasure. She is so deep in the moment that she doesn't see me at first. Then she opens her eyes, and she sees me. "s**t!" She scrambles back so fast she nearly falls off the bed. "Madeline—" "Yeah, baby," Derek groans from beneath her, eyes still closed, completely unaware. "Right there, don't stop—" "Derek." Something in Kayla's voice makes him stop. He opens his eyes, looks at her face and follows her shocked gaze to the door. To me. The room goes absolutely silent. A tear slides down my face, then another. I turn around and walk back down the stairs. I grab my bag from by the door and my heels from the mat and keep walking all the way to the front door. I have my hand on the handle when I hear him behind me. "Hey... Maddie." I hear his footsteps on the stairs, rushing. "Wait. Wait up, it's not what you think. I swear." My hand tightens on the door handle. "Look at me," he says. "Please." And God help me, I stop. I don't know why I stop. Every sensible part of my brain is screaming at me to keep walking, to get out the door, to not give him a single second more than he deserves. But my feet betray me. "Madeline." His voice is soft. "Please. Just look at me." I turn around. He's still in the bedsheet, which is somehow the most humiliating detail of this entire situation. Like he couldn't even be bothered to put on pants before chasing me. His hair is a mess and there's a guilty look on his face that I've never seen before and I hate that even right now, some pathetic part of me is relieved to see it. At least he has the decency to look ashamed. "It's not what you think," he says again. I laugh bitterly. "Derek. I opened the door. I saw you." "I know." He steps closer. "I know what you saw. I'm not... I'm not trying to tell you you didn't see it. I'm just saying it's complicated, okay? It's more complicated than you think." "She's my sister." "Step," he says, and then immediately winces, because he knows how that sounds. I stare at him. "You just—" I shake my head. "That's your first defense? Step? That makes it okay that you’ve been sleeping with a member of my family?" "That's not what I meant." He runs a hand through his hair. "I just meant that it's not like she's... it's not like she grew up in your house, Maddie. You barely even knew each other before college." "She's in my family, Derek!" My voice cracks on his name and I hate it. I hate that I'm crying. I hate that he gets to see me cry. "She's been to our family dinners. She was going to be at our wedding." I stop and press my hand over my mouth for a second. "How long?" He's quiet. "Derek." I look at him. "How long has this been happening?" He looks at the floor. "Madeline—" "How. Long." "Nine months," he says quietly. I actually take a step back, and I watch his face as he watches me process it, and I can tell by the way his jaw tightens that he already knows I'm about to do the math on. "Nine months," I repeat slowly. "So. Our engagement party." He doesn't answer. "Derek. Our engagement party was eight months ago." "Madeline." "Were you already—" I stop. I can't finish the sentence. My brain keeps trying to form it and my mouth keeps refusing. "At our engagement party, you looked me in the eye and gave that speech and you were already sleeping with her." "It didn't mean anything at first." He says it quickly. "It just happened, and I kept telling myself it would stop, and then it just—" "Didn't stop." "Didn't stop." He exhales. "I'm sorry. I know that doesn't fix anything. I'm so sorry, Madeline, I really am, but I also—" He pauses. He looks at me with an expression I've never seen before and I realize a second too late that it's relief. He looks relieved. "I think part of me needed you to find out. Because I've been miserable trying to hide it, and I think... I think we both know things haven't been right between us for a long time." I go very still. "Things haven't been right," I repeat. "We're different people than we were when we got together. You know that. You've always been so focused on your plans, your GPA, your five-year timeline, and I just—" He shrugs. "I needed someone who was actually present. Someone who was in the moment with me instead of always thinking ten steps ahead." I look at him for a long moment. "So it's my fault," I say. "I worked too hard for our future, so you crawled into bed with my sister." "I didn't say that." "You said I wasn't present. You said I was always thinking ten steps ahead. You're describing my personality, Derek, and you're using it to explain why you slept with my stepsister for nine months." I hear my voice going flat. "That sounds a lot like my fault." "I'm not saying it's your fault. I'm saying we weren't working." "Then you could have told me that!" My voice breaks again, and I stop and press my lips together and breathe. "You could have come to me six months ago and said Maddie, I'm unhappy, something is wrong. You could have said it five months ago. Four. Three. Any of those would have been better than me walking up those stairs and opening that door." "I know." His voice is quieter now. "I know. And I'm sorry." "Stop saying you're sorry." "What do you want me to say?" "I don't know, Derek!" I press my fingers against my eyes. "I don't know what I want you to say. There's nothing you can say. I just... I need to think. I need to—" I look around the living room. "I'm going to go stay somewhere tonight and then tomorrow we can figure out how to—" "Yeah." He says it quietly. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea." "What?" He sighs. "I think... I think given everything, it would be better if you gave me some space right now, Maddie. Kayla is still upstairs and you can't both be here. It’s too much drama." He's not meeting my eyes now. "I'm not kicking you out, obviously. I just want you to take a few days for yourself. I think we both need our own space for now and since this is my apartment—" "You're kicking me out." I hear myself say. "You cheat on me for nine months with my stepsister and then you kick me out of the apartment." "I'm not kicking you out, I'm just saying you should take some—" "You are literally describing kicking me out, Derek." "I thought you'd want your own space too!" "I do. I just don't have anywhere to go." My voice echoes off the walls and we both go quiet for a second. "I'll be out by Sunday. I'll get my things on Sunday and move out permanently." "Maddie, you don't have to decide that right now." "Sunday," I repeat. "I'll come for the rest of my things when you're not here." He's quiet. I turn to the door. "For what it's worth," Derek says, from behind me. "I really did love you in the beginning. I want you to know that." I stop with my hand on the door. For a second, I feel it. The whole weight of three years. The first date and the first fight and the way he used to drive me to early morning exams because he knew I was nervous. The engagement ring still sitting on my finger. "I know," I say quietly. And then, I walk out.