Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
ISABEL
Rocío
you WHAT??????
Rocío
GIRL
Rocío
when do u get back???
Rocío
plan b should be taken asap, but can be taken up to 48 hours after
Isabel
SHIT
Rocío
HELPPPPPPP
Rocío
ur not ovulating are u?
Rocío
apparently sperm can live inside u for like a few days
Isabel
SHFJSNFKSJFKDKDJ IM GONNA KMS
Rocío
WHY DID YOU NOT USE CONDOMS
Isabel
WE WERE IN THE MOMENT
Rocío
pull out?!?!!!!
Isabel
WE WERE IN THE MOMENT!!!!
Rocío
GIRL!
Rocío
first of all, freak
Rocío
second of all, taking u to my OB when u get back
Rocío
and THIRD of all
Rocío
SAFE SEX???
Isabel
we’re both virgins
Rocío
and you believed him????
Isabel
WHY WOULD HE LIE
Rocío
...
Rocío
well
Isabel
OMG
Rocío
no i don’t think he would he sounds really sweet
Isabel
should i ask
Rocío
no
Rocío
and don’t spiral
Isabel
i’m spiraling
Rocío
just track ur period and lmk if ur late
Rocío
worst-case scenario?
Rocío
i become a ninang
* * *
Bright and early the next morning, Natalia announces that we’re riding horses around the island.
After breakfast, we’re to head to the stables and saddle up.
The thought petrifies me. I’ve never ridden a horse before, but I know for sure I’ll suck at it.
I’ll probably fall off it and get kicked to death by its hind legs.
It doesn’t help that I’m running on so little sleep. I spent all night looking into pregnancy forums and assessing my risk level. According to Google, I’m probably pregnant and sick with a million other things. So.
When we get to the stables, one of the stable hands leads me to a horse named Cheyenne. He teaches me how to pet her nozzle, right between the eyes. He gives me a carrot to feed to her.
I climb the steps to get on Cheyenne’s back and grip the reins real tight. The stable hand leads us out, just right behind everyone else.
Luz, Jaime, and Natalia are naturals, probably from a lifetime of playing polo at exclusive country clubs with a membership that costs hundreds of millions of pesos each year. The rest of us? Not so much.
I can hardly get Cheyenne to walk in a straight line. As if I’m not anxious about being pregnant enough, now I have to deal with existential dread. I picture my headstone with my name, birthday, and today’s date. Here lies Isabel, kicked by a horse and extremely pregnant.
Natalia’s horse falls into step with mine, and I’m doubly embarrassed.
“What’s wrong, Sugar?” Natalia asks. “You look pale.”
I swallow, prepared for her to make fun of me.
“Cheyenne’s our sweetest horse,” she says. “My little cousins use her all the time, so don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”
What? Where’s the fire and brimstone?
“Why don’t I stick by you? Here, we’ll take a left here and cut to the beach. If you want to go faster, apply gentle pressure with your legs. Your calves. Lean forward like this—yeah, now you’ve got it!”
Cheyenne picks up her pace and I grin, enjoying the breeze in my hair. Natalia flicks her reins to get her own steed to keep up with mine.
We don’t talk the whole ride around the island, but she stays with me, correcting my form or giving me tips here and there. When we return to the stables, I’m sweating but filled with adrenaline. Cheyenne nuzzles my hand. I thank her for a smooth ride and walk over to Natalia.
“Did you have fun?” she asks.
“I did, thanks. I, um, really appreciate all of your help.”
She smiles at me. “I was scared my first time, too. But I got the hang of it. You did, too. I mean, not exactly, but you did well.”
We laugh. Not at each other, but together. It’s a damn miracle.
* * *
For lunch, we board a yacht. I’m quickly learning that life as an Aranaz entailed doing a lot of nothing in expensive places.
It isn’t enough to wear nice clothes; you have to wear the nicest, but particularly those that are inaccessible to the middle and lower class so as to remain distinguished from them.
The kind of clothes from inconspicuous brands nobody but the one percent even know exists.
And lunch by the beach is nice, but wouldn’t it be better if you were floating on the ocean? But not just on any boat—not the ones anyone can hire for a day. A yacht that’s entirely your own.
We’re served seafood on the deck. We’re all starved from a morning riding horses and so we eat quietly.
After dessert, Bo does the honors of popping the champagne bottle, and then it gets boisterous from there.
Even I’m drinking—because when else am I going to get the chance to sip champagne on a yacht while it cruises around the island?
Pills are swallowed, offered even to me.
I consider it, but opt not to. There’s too much of a risk of upsetting the balance of my brain chemistry. I don’t want my meds to stop working.
Tropical house music blares from the speakers, a soft synth laid over a funky, bouncy beat. The alcohol’s loosened me up so when Bo takes me by the hand and spins me around, I let him. I sway to the music, revel in my being here, in being alive. I forget all of my worries just for a while.
Erin drapes her arms over my shoulders and dances along. I know it kills Kieran to not be able to dance with me. It kills me, too.
By the time the song ends and transitions into the next, I’m sweaty and out of breath. I excuse myself to freshen up in the bathroom, with Bo ordering me to get my “perky little ass back here, ASAP.”
I’m giggly, head spinning as I stumble into the bathroom. I try to shut the door but a hand stops it. Kieran slips into the cramped space and locks the door shut.
“Kieran—”
“Quite a show you put on out there,” he says, backing me into the wall with a small smirk. “Tiny dancer.”
“Kieran,” I say. “We’re gonna get caught.”
He dips his head to kiss my neck. “There’s more than one bathroom here. I told them I was going to take a nap.”
I laugh. “You’re ‘napping’ an awful lot this trip.”
“Mm.” He kneads my hips. “It feels too good not to.” He hikes my leg up and presses against me. He’s hard, his bulge digging into my center. I whimper with need. But—
“We don’t have condoms, baby,” I remind him. After my conversation with Rocío, I’m spooked by the thought of getting pregnant so young.
“I think Cisco brought some,” he murmurs, tongue now swirling at the base of my neck, certainly leaving a mark there. “I can go fetch some.”
“You’re insatiable,” I say with a breathy chuckle. He pulls back, finally, to fix me with those gorgeous brown eyes.
“Can you blame me? You’ve been driving me crazy since that damn bikini. Before that.”
“A year before?” I tease. I touch his lip with my thumb, drag it down to expose the inside. God, I love him so much. But I still have to resist. I have to at least try, just until we’re out of the woods.
“Baby,” I coo. “We can’t. Last time was already too risky.”
“Are you not on the pill?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, blowing out a breath and then pecking my lips. “I won’t push it.”
And for some reason, that makes it even harder to resist.
“Why don’t I—” He kneels down and unbuttons my denim shorts.
He pushes it down, tugs the straps of my string bikini bottom off to expose me to him.
I’m too breathless to speak. When his eyes flick up, the corner of his lips tugging upward in a smirk, my hips buck forward involuntarily. He chuckles, thumbing my clit.
“Needy baby,” he coos. And then he’s lapping at me, tongue against my clit, lips sucking at my folds, sometimes digging his tongue into my entrance and then replacing it with his fingers so he can go back to my clit.
It’s not long before I’m shaking and shuddering against him, back pressed to the wall, knees threatening to buckle from the strength of my orgasm.
His mouth is slick and swollen when he stands up to kiss me.
I dig my hands under his shirt and pull him in closer, my chest still heaving from finishing. “If…” I trail off. “If we’re using protection, the risk won’t double?” Worse excuses have been made for stupid reasons in the heat of the moment. Sue me.
“Wait here,” Kieran says, kissing me briefly, his chin still slick with the sheen of me when he steps out.
“Kieran—”
“I’ll be quick.” He disappears outside. The mirror reflects my reddened face back to me. My cheeks are hot to the touch.
Kieran returns in less than two minutes. He holds the blue foil of the condom packet up as he locks the door. He wastes no time, tearing it open and pushing down his trunks. On the condom goes, and then he’s kissing me.
“It’s safe, right?” I ask between kisses.
“Mm,” he says, nodding. “Very safe, baby.”
“Just a quickie,” I say, breathing him in, then out. “If I’m gone too long, they’ll get suspicious.”
He drives deep into me, making me moan. He smirks then, cups his hand gently over my mouth and shushes me. “Don’t worry,” he says, “it never takes me long to get you to come.”
His confidence has me tipping my head back against the wall. We rock our hips together, harder, faster, the friction pushing us closer and closer to the edge. We come in sync, one after the other, my walls clenching tight around him as if to pull his seed out and into the rubber.
“Fuck,” Kieran breathes out. Our chests heave. He leans forward to rest his forehead against mine. “Fuck, baby. I can’t get enough of you.”
I push him off and fix my panties. I’m dripping, aching with arousal, but I need to get back out there before someone comes knocking.
“Good?” I ask.
Kieran drops on the toilet seat cover to catch his breath. The condom is full. I watch him take it off and toss it into the bin, then bury it under toilet paper.
“I’ll go now,” I say, kissing his forehead.
“How are you not dead from that? I came so hard,” he says.
I laugh and graze his cheek with my thumb. “Take as much time as you need,” I say. “But I really have to go now.”
He pulls me close, his cheek to my stomach, his hand squeezing my ass.
“Kieran!”
“Okay, okay,” he says, letting me go. “I love you.”