Page 14 of While I’m Still Here

1. Don’t die.

Something twists violently in my chest at the mere thought of a world without Bea in it, but I keep reading.

Tell people. Buy milk. Find out if chemo will take her eyebrows. Stop thinking about the bins… and then number six.

I read it twice.

6. HAVE LOTS AND LOTS OF HOT SEX JUST IN CASE YOU DIE

“Colin Fletcher,” Bea’s voice shrieks from the doorway. Her eyes move from me to the notebook. “You nosy bastard!”

“It was open,” I try to defend.

“You were reading it.”

“No offence, Bea, but it has letters the same size as my cock.”

She marches over and snatches it from the table, clutching it against her chest. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Clearly.”

Her cheeks are pink, and I can’t tell if it’s from the embarrassment or the wine. Probably both. I tell myself I should leave it—a good best friend would.

But I have spent seven years being a very good best friend, and I’m suddenly not particularly interested in being one anymore. “So…”

“No!” Bea puts her finger up to stop me.

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You’re going to.”

I smile. “Number six.”

She groans and covers her face with the notebook. “We are never discussing number six.”

“Oh, come on, Bea. I think number six deserves discussion.”

“Number six was during an emotional breakdown, Fletcher. Drop it.”

“It was in capitals… and underlined.,” I tease her.

“I was very emotional.” I laugh, but she doesn’t. When she lowers the notebook, something has changed in her expression. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I don’t actually mean I’m going to go out and shag half of Britain,” she says.

“Good.” The words leave my mouth too quickly.

Fuck.

I take a drink, but unfortunately there’s barely anything left in the glass.

“Good?” she asks.

“I’d imagine the logistics of it would be exhausting.”

“Right.”