The piercing heat left a floating haze above the asphalt as we headed to the cabin on Lake Priest with our best friends, Perry and Samantha. Annually, we packed a bag, jumped into Jake’s Jeep Cherokee and left every care.
I sat sideways in the front-seat next to my husband and air-played the guitar-solo in Walk this way while everyone else banged their heads to the classic-rock jam. We’d never be this young and free again.
A couple hours out of town, we stopped for fuel and a potty break. I questioned our choice in gas stations. “Kensley, you’ll be fine,” Jake said. The restroom was on the outside of the building. It creeped me out.
Perry grabbed my hand. “I’ll stand guard. Come on.” The two of us left our significant other’s for the sake of my bladder. Out of sight, I pulled away from him. “I told you, we’re done.” It wasn’t easy hiding the year-long romance that Perry and I shared. What started during a drunken Christmas party could’ve ruined both of our lives.
“Samantha’s pregnant,” he shared. “Congratulations,” I outlined the seat in toilet paper then shut the door behind me. I could still hear him speaking. “The baby’s not mine.”
I flushed and slowly exited. “What?”
“Yeah, while we were sneaking around so were they.”
“What?” I asked again.
“Jake and Samantha.” That’s all he could say.
The four of us had a conversation. Now, I’m riding in the back with Perry and I don’t think I could be happier.
Leesa Writes 