Before I Die

The thought of her kissing another guy suddenly has my blood boiling. I fold up the note and shove it into my pocket. Then I grab a bunch of clothes without paying attention to what they are and shove them into the luggage, grab her phone charger, iPad, and toiletries, throw it all into the luggage as well, zip it up, and head back to my dad’s place—after making a quick pit stop at the deli to pick up subs for lunch.

“Nevaeh!” I yell out from the foyer when I walk inside. When she doesn’t answer, I run the luggage up to her room, then go back downstairs to the kitchen with the subs. When I don’t spot her anywhere, I plate up the subs, grab a couple sodas, and make my way outside, thinking she might still be lying out by the pool where I left her a few hours ago.

Juggling the food and drinks, I open the door leading to the back and spot her in a lounge chair from behind.

“Hey! I brought food. You hungry?”

Nevaeh turns her head to acknowledge me, and I notice her eyes are bloodshot and her face is blotchy and tear-stained. She must’ve been crying again. I also notice next to her, on the table, is a glass of my dad’s 1926 Macallan single malt whiskey. One glass is probably worth thirty thousand dollars. He bought the bottle when he made the biggest deal of his career. The deal that changed the entire game for him, turning him into a millionaire. The glass is only a quarter full, and I wonder if she’s drunk it all or if she only poured a small amount. If she drank it all, she’s probably well on her way to being drunk.

Seeing my hands are full, she says, “Oh yes! Let me help you” as she stands to help. Not expecting the sight in front of me, I stumble forward and one of the cans of soda slips out of my grip. It hits the ground and bursts open, spraying the ground and my shoes in the process.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

She looks down at her bikini—if you can even call it that—then looks up at me, frowning. “You said I could borrow one. Did I misunderstand?”

Holy shit! When I told her there were bathing suits in the guest bathroom, I didn’t even think about how skimpy they were or how they would look on her for that matter.

Now, her standing there, in a white and blue patterned string bikini, with her cleavage spilling out of her top, and her flat stomach on display, I’m regretting ever suggesting she borrow one. If I have any chance at resisting this woman, she needs to be in more clothes, not less.

“No, I did say that. I just didn’t know the selection included something like that.” My hand flies up, pointing at the offending material, and the plates of food almost topple over. She closes the distance between us, grabbing the can of soda that didn’t explode and a plate of food, and sets them on the table.

“I can put a shirt on if it’s bothering you. I saw the suit and thought it was cute. I’ve only ever bought one-pieces. Since it’s surprisingly warm outside today, I’ve been enjoying getting a tan.” She smiles and her face lights up.

“And drinking whiskey,” I add, nodding toward the glass.

Her cheeks turn pink. “I hope you don’t mind. My mother always says whiskey is for corrupt businessmen, so I thought what better way to stick it to her than to drink a glass of whiskey.” She shrugs, lifting the glass and taking a sip, having no clue how expensive that one sip is. Her nose scrunches up, and she shivers as she swallows the mouthful.

“It’s stronger than I expected,” she says, setting the glass back on the table. “So, should I, uh, change?” She glances back down at her tiny fucking bikini.

“You’re fine. The bikini looks great on you. Let’s eat.” I sit on the lounger, placing my food on my lap, and she does the same. For a few minutes we eat in silence, my mind going to the last time I sat here with a woman.

Twelve years ago

“Ethan? You out here?” Kelsi yells, sounding nervous.

“Yeah.”

I hear her bare feet slap against the concrete and then she’s in my lap, her legs straddling me. “I have something I need to tell you.”

I run my hands up and down her thighs. I can’t get enough of this woman. Her scent, her smile, the way she feels when her body is wrapped around mine. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I ask, kissing her mouth.

“I’m pregnant.”

My heart stops. We’re only eighteen. Sure, we’ve been dating for the last four years, but we’re still young, too young. However, one look at how nervous she is, and I know I need to keep my reservations to myself. Kelsi needs me to be strong for her. We knew by having unprotected sex we were risking pregnancy. We played a game of Russian roulette and lost. Now it’s time to pay up.