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“You don’t need to go into any more detail. I think we all know how pregnancies happen, and we can stop this part of the conversation right here,” he insists.
“Thank you.”
He motions for me to take a seat while he pours himself a drink. I note he’s pouring more than usual, but I don’t blame him under these circumstances.
“So, you want to study medicine, huh?”
I fidget with the fray of my jeans again. A bad habit when I’m bored on anxious. It didn’t matter. These jeans will probably be the last time worn since they barely button up anymore.
“That was the plan.”
“And that will still be the plan. You will come back home, stay with us. We can help with this baby, so you can continue studying. UCLA has an excellent medical school. You might need to defer a semester or two, but this is not the end of the college journey for you.”
“Really? I can still study what I want?”
“Of course,” Dad informs me. “Having a child doesn’t mean everything has to stop. It will be more challenging. I won’t lie about that at all.”
“But moving home,” I begin with, unsure what to think. “You and Mom just got the place to yourselves. I can find my own place.”
“Sure, eventually. But for now, it’s best you come home.”
“I was planning on finishing the school year since it’s only three more months. Then head back for the summer.”
“I think it’s a wise decision you made.”
By the time Mom checks on us, Dad is on his second drink. Also, I think Mom drank the wine she was offering earlier. Either way, who am I to judge? The things I’ve done while drunk don’t exactly make me a saint, either.
Mom insists we eat dinner, which I welcome since I’m starving. After dessert, I say goodbye to head back to the dorm. As much as they wanted me to stay, I have an early class tomorrow, so it just makes sense.
With my parents now informed, my next hurdle is my sisters. This, I wish I had alcohol for.
I knock on Beau’s door, praying he’s alone because I just need to see him.
The door opens, and of course, he’s in his gray sweats with no shirt. His abs are cut to perfection, a six-pack with every ab defined.
Great, just what I need. A hot guy in front of me while I’m literally in heat.
“Don’t you own clothes?” I ask, walking past him to lie on his bed.
“How did the night go?”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yeah, fine,” I repeat in annoyance.
“Okay, so why the mood?”
He hovers over me, crossing his arms while waiting for me to answer his question. I side-eye him, only catching a glimpse of the tattoo on his hand.
Why must he have tattoos? Were tattoos always hot?
“Were you expecting someone? Is that why you’re dressed like you’re ready to make someone come?”
Beau bursts out laughing. “Oh, Alexa. Are you jealous? Because jealousy does look cute on you.”
“Whatever,” I mutter. “So?”
