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15. "I think I'm pregnant."
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I look down at the white stick in my shaky hands, the two red lines appearing clear as day. My hand clasps over my mouth, tears forming behind my eyelids. I feel so many different emotions right now. I am nervous and excited and scared and confused all at the same time.
The rain pours down heavily outside, another tropical storm on the way. My parents were on some sort of anniversary trip and my boyfriend, Rafe Cameron texted me that he is dealing with some sort of family drama at the moment. I'm currently alone in the huge, luxurious house that my parents owned on what is known as Figure Eight or the north side of the Outer Banks.
I run my shaky fingers through my messy hair, unsure of what to do. I have been sitting on the side of my bathtub for almost an hour now, just staring at the test. I am in Rafe's oversized t-shirt that he left here last night as it covers down to my mid-thigh.
My head snaps up from the test when the doorbell rings over and over again, whoever is outside pressing it frantically. I drop the test to the floor, rushing down the large staircase and straight to the front door.
"Rafe." I breathe with a smile. I had been craving his presence all day and I am so glad that he is finally here. However, my smile falters when I notice that he looks stressed and worried as though something is wrong.
He is soaked from the rain outside, but I jump onto him without a care in the world. He hesitates for a second before wrapping his arms around me and hugging me back. His grip is tight as though he's afraid that I'll slip away at any moment. I pull my head back, grabbing his face and pulling it to mine. His lips taste like spearmint with a faint trace of alcohol.
"We need to talk." He whispers after our lips part. His shoulders are unusually tense as I wrap my arms around his neck, searching his eyes as he seems almost on edge.
"Is everything okay?" I ask. His eyes are glued to the floor as he is deep in thought about something. "Rafe?" I question, becoming concerned after a few seconds of him still not answering.
"Um, yeah. No. Yeah?" He stutters, unable to find a definite answer.
"Come inside." I grab his hand, dragging him through the doorway and closing the door behind us. I lead him to the staircase, sitting him at the bottom of it. "Talk to me." I stand between his legs as his hands rest on my hips.
"I love you." He finally looks up at me, his expression full of worry.
"And I love you." I laugh lightly.
"No, you don't understand. I did something awful." He removes his hands from my body, running them over his face anxiously.
"Rafe, baby, whatever it is," I pull his hands away from his face, tilting his chin up so that we are face to face, "we can work through it. We always do." I try to assure him.
