Flutter

by Olivia Evans

  “I’m sorry,” she choked, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

  Dylan pulled in a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her into his lap. “Don’t be sorry. Just promise me you won’t do it again.”

  “I promise.”

  After several minutes, Presley’s breathing finally evened out. Dylan smoothed her hair out of her face and wiped away the tear tracks on her cheeks. “What happens now?”

  “I have an appointment for the procedure on Wednesday. Since I’m ten weeks, they have to do it there.”

  Dylan’s eyes widened. “Wednesday? You just went for your initial appointment today? Why are they doing this so fast? Is there something wrong?”

  Presley shook her head. “No. Nothing’s wrong. They don’t have a waiting period in New York, and since I’m eighteen, I don’t need a parent’s signature.”

  “But Wednesday is so soon,” Dylan whispered, his complexion pale.

  “My parents will be home Sunday. I don’t have a large window of time here. I have no idea how I’m going to feel, what’s going to happen. I want to have some time to myself.”

  “Presley, if you think I’m leaving you alone for one second after that procedure, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

  “Not alone time from you,” she whispered. “I just can’t deal with the thought of seeing my parents right after. I want to have some time to deal with however I feel.”

  Dylan swallowed and moved them to her bed. “I’m so sorry this happened. I’d give anything in the world to make it go away.”

  Presley gave him a sad smile and dropped her eyes. “Anything isn’t necessary. We know exactly what it will take to make this go away.”

  The following morning, Presley slipped out of bed and made her way into the kitchen. Rain cascaded down the floor-to-ceiling windows, and dark clouds blanketed the sky. It fit her mood perfectly.

  “Would you like some breakfast?” Judith asked, pulling Presley’s attention from the windows. The moment Presley focused on Judith, the smell of bacon, eggs, and something sweet hit her senses. Her stomach rolled, and a sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead.

  “Oh, dear,” Judith gasped, rushing around the island and placing her hand on Presley’s forehead. “Are you sick? You look awful.”

  Presley gave her a weak smile, but before she could answer, Dylan spoke. “I think she has some kind of stomach bug. She’s been like this all night.”

  Judith jumped in surprise, her brows nearly in her hairline as she looked from Presley to Dylan. “You spent the night?”

  Dylan shrugged. “I wasn’t going to leave her here to take care of herself. I’ll be honest, though. I wouldn’t stand too close. She’s the fifth person in our grade to come down with it.”

  Judith shook her head and turned her attention back to Presley. “Nonsense. I’ll be fine.”

  Following Dylan’s lead, Presley covered her mouth and extended her arm. “No, Judith, he’s right. You don’t want what I have. And you certainly don’t want to take it back to your family. You should go. If Dylan hasn’t caught it yet, I’m guessing he’s in the clear.”

  Judith crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “If you two are trying to run some kind of game on me…”

  “I really am sick,” Presley croaked, a wave of nausea making her eyes water. “Take the next few days off. It’s just me. There’s no reason for you to be here.”

  Judith pushed Presley’s hair away from her forehead, the gesture tender, motherly. It caused Presley’s stomach to knot with guilt. She hated lying to Judith far more than she did her parents, but she needed her to leave, and she needed it to be for several days.

  “I wouldn’t feel right about leaving you like this.”

  Presley pulled in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “This isn’t a request.”

  Judith snatched her hand away, a look of hurt twisting her features. “I see. Well, I’ll have my phone. If you need anything just call, Miss Cooper.”

  “Judith,” Presley pled, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “I’m sorry. I feel rotten, and it’s making me bitchy. Please don’t be upset with me.”

  Judith’s shoulders slumped and she nodded. Leaning into Presley, she gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. She looked at Dylan and pointed her finger. “You better call me if anything happens. I’ll be back on Friday to disinfect this place.”

  Dylan nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Once alone, Dylan and Presley spent the day wrapped in each other’s arms. They didn’t discuss the pregnancy, her parents, or her appointment the following day. Instead, they chose to spend the day blanketed in denial. It wasn’t until dinner that Dylan brought up her appointment.

  “I need to run home and grab a change of clothes. It might be a good idea to have my car here too so I can drive tomorrow.” His eyes dropped to his plate, and he muttered the last words. The action caused Presley’s throat to constrict.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Dylan let out a frustrated sigh. “Come with me. It won’t take long.”

  Presley shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You go ahead. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  Presley smiled, the first real smile she’d felt all day. His reluctance to leave for even a moment made her heart ache. “You can’t wear the same clothes again. I don’t care how many times you shower, you’re going to stink soon.”

  Dylan laughed and threw his napkin at her. “Don’t be a smartass.”

  She flashed him a wide smile and shrugged. “It’s all part of my charm. You love it.”

  “I love you,” he answered, his smile softening.

  Presley swallowed and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

  “I know.” Leaning forward, he pressed a lingering kiss to her lips and exhaled. “I’ll be back soon.”

  When he returned, Presley was in bed, the soft glow of the television the only light in the room. Dylan didn’t question her. Instead, he stripped out of his clothes and crawled in beside her. He pulled her tight against his chest, and they lay in complete silence. A cloud of tension hung heavy in the air. Presley was too scared to ask if he felt it too. She was certain he did. She was even more certain that he was the reason for it.

  A feeling of panic and dread pierced Presley’s subconscious as she slowly woke. Her sleep had been restless at best, her dreams overrun with images of a blond-haired, blue-eyed baby. But every time she tried to reach out, to pull the baby against her chest, it vanished. Beside her, Dylan stirred, pulling her from her thoughts. When she looked at him, her chest tightened. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. He looked exhausted. He looked how Presley imagined herself.

  “I should shower,” Presley rasped, her voice thick with sleep and fatigue.

  “You don’t have to get ready now. Just stay here a little longer.” Dylan wrapped his arms around her and pinned her to the bed. Presley sighed as she stared at the ceiling.

  “I can’t just lie in bed. I need to be doing something.”

  Dylan groaned and rolled away from her. The suffocating tension from the night before came surging back. Pulling in a deep breath, Presley stalked to the bathroom and slammed the door. Under the steaming hot water, she tried to unwind the ball of anxiety twisting and tearing at her. Her fear of the unknown, coupled with Dylan’s bizarre behavior, was almost more than she could stand.

  When her skin began to prune and the water cooled, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. Prolonging not facing Dylan, she went through her morning routine before emerging from the bathroom. She stood in the doorway for several minutes, waiting for him to acknowledge her. She knew he wasn’t asleep. She’d caught the way his body stilled, almost as if he were holding his breath, as soon as she walked out of the bathroom. When he remained unmoving, she let out a humorless chuckle and disappeared into her closet. Fully dressed, she smoothed her han
ds down the front of her shirt, her palms lingering over her abdomen just long enough to make her eyes prick with tears and her anger and fear to crest.

  “What is your problem?” she asked, her face taut, her hands balled at her sides.

  Dylan sat up in bed and shrugged, his expression blank. “I don’t have a problem.”

  His apathetic demeanor was all it took for her to snap. “Bullshit,” Presley spat. “You’ve been acting weird for days. If we’re really in this together like you say, then you need to talk to me. I’m fucking terrified, and you acting like a passive-aggressive asshole is the last thing I need.”

  “Then don’t do it!” he yelled, throwing his arms up.

  It felt as though all the air had suddenly been sucked from the room. Presley’s mouth fell open, and her pulse thundered in her ears. “What?”

  Dylan threw back the blankets and stood from the bed. “Don’t do it. If you’re so terrified, maybe there’s a reason.”

  “Of course there’s a reason,” Presley cried, her entire body shaking. “I’m an unwed pregnant teenager who is about to have an abortion to keep my father from shipping me to the other side of the world and away from the person I love most in the world. What part of that isn’t terrifying?”

  Dylan walked around the bed until he stood in front of her and grabbed her arms. “What if there’s another way?”

  “There is no other way,” Presley murmured.

  “What if there were? What if you had the baby? I have money. You’re eighteen. Your father can’t send you anywhere you don’t want to go. You could stay with me until we finish school.”

  Presley wrenched her arms free and took a step back. “And then what? We live happily ever after? Don’t be so naïve, Dylan. Do you really think your family will just welcome me in with open arms?”

  “My family loves you.”

  “Your family loves me now. Do you really believe if we tell your parents I’ve not only managed to get pregnant, but kicked out of my house and disowned by my family, they’ll happily take me in? You’re a legacy, Dylan. This is not what they have planned for you. You’re a fool if you believe this will turn into some kind of Disney fairy-tale ending.”

  Dylan’s jaw ticked as his gaze darted around the room. Presley could see the hint of doubt creep into his eyes, but his stubborn willfulness refused to budge. It was one of the many things she both loved and hated about him. Life with a silver spoon in his mouth sometimes gave Dylan unrealistic views of the world. Not that Presley was much better, but if her father had taught her anything, it was that nothing was ever a guarantee and what was here today, might be gone tomorrow.

  “I don’t want you to do this,” he whispered. The sound of his voice, small and insecure, nearly brought Presley to her knees. She shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “You promised to stand by me. You said, whatever I decided, you would support me. I can’t believe you’re doing this now.” More than a million times, Presley had considered exactly what Dylan was suggesting, but her fear of the unknown kept her on her current path. She was selfish in that aspect. She didn’t want to have the life she’d planned uprooted and turned upside down. She didn’t want to be a statistic.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Dylan whispered. “It was just an idea. We can do whatever you want.”

  A punch to the gut would have hurt less. Presley didn’t want him to just go along with whatever she decided. She wanted him to support her. She wanted him to be a part of the decision. She didn’t want to be the only villain in their nightmare. “Whatever I want? Thanks. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Go to hell, Dylan.”

  Presley spun on her heel, grabbed her wallet, and darted out of the room. Dylan yelled her name as he struggled to yank on his pants, but by the time he made it into the hallway, the elevator doors had closed. Presley pulled in several deep breaths and wiped the tears from her face. She needed to hold it together. If not, everything would fall apart. Walking as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself, she moved through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk. She looked up and down the street, not bothering to walk down the block before hailing a cab. She ignored the sidelong glance from the doorman as she climbed inside. As the cab pulled away, she looked back just in time to catch a glimpse of Dylan standing out front of her building, his hands in his hair and his face twisted with anguish.

  Goose bumps covered Presley’s skin as she lay on the table, the cold metal of the stirrups burning into her skin. She could hardly remember how she’d ended up there. On autopilot, she’d answered questions and followed instructions, all the while fighting to block the image of Dylan’s face as she’d pulled away from the curb and the sound of his voice asking her not to do it.

  “You’re going to feel a slight pinch,” the nurse advised as she pushed the tip of the IV into Presley’s arm. “This will put you to sleep. When you wake, it’ll be over.”

  Presley nodded even though a swell of panic had started to build in her chest. She’d asked to be put under. She didn’t want to remember anything. Not the sound of the doctor's voice, the beep of the machines, the smell of the room, or the hum of the machine he’d use to abort the pregnancy. No, not a pregnancy. A baby. Her baby. Dylan’s baby.

  Her panic gave way to something else, something tangible. Clarity. What was she thinking? Presley had been raised with the understanding that all life was precious. However, the moment her life veered off course, she threw all her beliefs out the window. She couldn’t do it. This was a mistake. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the right time or the ideal situation. To hell with her father and his campaign. To hell with becoming a statistic. She had to leave. She had to get up. She had to tell them to stop.

  She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She tried to move her arms, her legs, anything, but it was like a ton of bricks had been dropped on her body, holding her in place. She screamed out as a blurry image of the doctor came into view. His voice was garbled as the room darkened. Over and over, she screamed for him to stop, that this was a mistake. But with every passing second, she sank further into despair, deeper into the darkness, until there was nothing but the cold reality that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

  Under sedation, Presley floated in and out of oblivion for nearly an hour before consciousness began to surface. She licked her lips and groaned, her mouth dry, a dull ache radiating from her abdomen. Disoriented, she blinked as the room came slowly into focus. Her stomach dropped as a tidal wave of awareness crashed over her. Her hands flew to her midsection, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  “No,” she whispered, clutching the fabric of her gown. “Oh God. What have I done?”

  “How are you feeling?” the nurse asked as she checked Presley’s monitors.

  Tears spilled down Presley’s cheeks. “Is it too late?”

  The nurse turned to face Presley, her brows drawn together in confusion. “Is what too late, honey? Are you in pain?”

  Presley shook her head and sucked in a broken breath. “Is it over?”

  The nurse’s face colored with understanding as she took Presley’s hand into her own. “It’s over. Everything went smoothly. You’re going to be just fine.”

  Presley looked away. She wasn’t fine. She needed to get the hell out of that clinic before she completely fell apart. Clearing her throat, she did her best to control her voice. “How long do I have to stay?”

  The nurse gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll keep you for another hour just to make sure there aren’t any complications. The doctor will be in to see you shortly. Try to get some rest.”

  Presley closed her eyes and held her breath as she waited for the door to close. She turned on her side and drew her knees to her chest, the cramping in her abdomen nothing compared to the pain of its emptiness.

  “Do you have any more questions for me?” the doctor asked, handing Presley a stack of papers outlining what to expect over the next few days.

  “N
o,” Presley murmured, her eyes downcast, shoulders hunched.

  The doctor cleared his throat and placed his hand on Presley’s knee. When she looked up, his face was creased in a frown. “Do you have someone to take you home? Stay with you a few days?”

  The tears Presley thought had run dry began to fall once again. She replayed her fight with Dylan, the anger, fear, and then anguish she’d seen written on his face as she left him in front of her building. Would he ever forgive her? Would she ever forgive herself? She pulled in a shallow breath and shook her head as she wiped her cheeks. “No.”

  The doctor released a heavy sigh. Presley could see the concern in his eyes, the indecision. “It’s against the rules to let you leave without someone to drive you.” Presley could only imagine what she must have looked like. Just as she opened her mouth to make up a lie, the nurse walked in.

  “She has someone. He’s in the waiting room.”

  Presley’s head snapped to the nurse, her eyes wide. “What?”

  The nurse nodded, a small smile on her face. “He’s been here for almost an hour. He wanted to come back and see you, but since you hadn’t put his name on anything, we told him he’d have to wait.”

  “Well, then,” the doctor said, his relief palpable. “You’ll find everything you need in this packet, including follow-up information. Please call if you need anything.”

  Presley nodded and stood on shaky legs. Her heart galloped as she made her way to the waiting area. When she pushed the door open, her eyes found Dylan immediately. He sat across the room, his elbows propped on his knees, his fingers tangled in his hair. At the sound of the door opening, he leaped to his feet and raced to Presley. He didn’t say a word as he wrapped his arms around her and held her against him, his face buried against her neck.