Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
I slide the shot glass back toward him while taking in the tattoos, piercings, and scars covering his toned body. He has kind eyes, and that’s the only reason why I don't throw the shot right back at him. “Can’t,” I tell him. “I’m seventeen and knocked up with my rapist's baby.”
He sucks in a sharp breath and instantly slides the shot back toward me. “Shit. That's rough. Sounds like you need this more than you know.”
My eyes drop to the glass. I’d do anything to get fucked up and forget this all happened. Yet, despite me being stupid enough to come here in the first place, I’m not stupid enough to allow myself to get fucked up around a bunch of sick, twisted men with less than honorable intentions.
“Really,” I say, sliding it back again. “I can’t.”
“Suit yourself,” he says, grabbing the shot and raising it to his lips. He throws it back and then slams the glass down on the bar again. He refills it and quickly takes another before tossing the glass over his shoulder and letting it smash against the back wall of the bar.
I can’t help but stare. I don’t know whether to be impressed, shocked, or scared of this guy, but for now, he’s someone standing in front of me who doesn’t seem all too bad, and because of that, I’m willing to give him my attention … just not all of it.
His eyes drop to my stomach. “So,” he says, grabbing some glasses and filling them with beer. “You keeping it?”
My hand automatically falls to my stomach as I feel a massive weight drop down on my shoulders. “I have no fucking idea,” I tell him honestly, shrugging my shoulders and watching as he slides the beers down the bar to the men sitting at the opposite side. “I’ve always been pro-life. I mean, it’s a fucking baby, but then at the same time …”
“It’s a rapist's baby,” he says, finishing my sentence, his voice low. “Look, kid. You’re only seventeen. I doubt any motherfucker is going to judge you for getting rid of it. It’s not like you asked for it. You’re young, you still have a shitload of living to do. You don’t need to be held down by some cunt’s kid.”
I stare off to the wall behind him, taking in his words. I mean, he’s not wrong. I didn’t ask for this. If I did have this baby, I'd spend the rest of my life looking at it and remembering what happened to me. I'd never forget Jude’s face because it would always be staring back at me through my child’s eyes. I’d resent it for the rest of my life. But at the same time, this is an innocent baby who didn’t do anything wrong. It's not it’s fault that it’s sperm donor is an awful man.
“To be honest,” I tell the bartender. “I only found out this morning. I have no idea what I should do or what’s right or wrong. I haven't even talked to my mom about this. She’ll know what to do, but then, she’ll probably tell me that I need to make this decision on my own, which is a load of bullshit.”
“To be fair,” he says, glancing up when another fight breaks out behind me. “Your mom would be right. This is your decision. It’s your body, and you’re the one who will have to live with it for the rest of your life.”
I prop my elbows onto the bar and drop my face into my hands. “It’s too much to think about. I should be freaking out about the History assignment I haven’t done—which is due next week—not rapists and babies.”
“Fair point,” he says, leaning down on the bar and getting uncomfortably closer. “Look,” he says. “I’m going to tell you something that I haven’t told anyone in a while.”
My brows furrow, and I take another sip of my soda, my curiosity burning within. “Go on then.”
“When I was nineteen, I knocked up this chick. I met her in a bar, took her home, and fucked her until we couldn't walk. By the morning, she was gone, and I figured that was it. I’d never have to see her again. Until two months later, she came knocking on my door, claiming she was pregnant.”
“What’d you do?”
“Freaked the fuck out.”
I roll my eyes. “After that, dickhead.”
“Look, I wasn’t ready to be some kid’s father, and she wasn’t ready to hand over her lifestyle for breastfeeding and shitty diapers. I told her to get an abortion, but she wasn’t down with that either. So, we looked into our options.”
“You didn’t leave her to figure it out on her own?”
“No,” he says, pulling back and dropping his brows in annoyance. “That kid was my responsibility too. I was the one who knocked her up, so I was the one who needed to make sure she got out of it okay. I’m not one of those guys who just ditches a chick after getting her in trouble, like most of the fuckers in this place.”