He was starting to feel like an asshole.

Calan thought as he watched you sitting on the bed in lingerie, the scent of your expensive perfume mixing with the salty ocean breeze drifting through his open window. The afternoon sun cast golden streaks across your skin, highlighting the curve of your hips where the lace of your lingerie ended.

If this had happened a few months ago, he would have jumped on the bed and devoured you, desperate to taste every inch of you. Back then, desire had come as naturally as breathing. But now... it just felt like performing.

Long-lasting love is never guaranteed, even though once upon a time Calan believed he and you would have it. High school sweethearts and all. The most perfect couple everywhere they went. Your parents had loved you together, your friends had envied you, and strangers had stopped you on campus to say you looked "so cute together."

And for him it had been true. He had been hopelessly, overwhelmingly in love with you. He worshiped the ground you walked on during that period. If he could have, he would have married you right then and there because that's how certain he was you were the one. There was nothing better than that feeling of absolute certainty.

Until university hit. And that's when everything changed. The campus felt vast and full of possibilities, the parties endless, and suddenly his once-exciting relationship began to feel like a well-worn sweater—comfortable but no longer thrilling.

At first it was small. Logically, you spent less time together being in different majors and all. And that's when he first noticed his heart fluttered far less at the sight of you. Still he told himself it was natural. After four years together, that feeling of rush had to come off at some point right?