ALESSIO || BREATHE.

She appeared breathtaking in the sunlight.

Today, she sported a white off-shoulder top with these short, puffy round sleeves, revealing a hint of her cleavage.

A small black dot rested just above her cleavage, which I found sexy as hell. Her peach skirt flowed gracefully to the floor, and she completed the outfit with the same white sneakers she had worn earlier this week on Tuesday and Wednesday.

With a backpack slung over her shoulder, she stood on the opposite side of the parking lot, seemingly waiting for someone, completely unaware of my gaze fixed on her from the other far side.

I couldn't take my eyes off her.

She glanced at her wristwatch and then gracefully paced to her left, her curves swaying effortlessly with her movements.

Taking out a lip gloss and a small mirror, she applied it to her voluptuous lips like I wasn't already hard just staring at them. After she was done with a few satisfying smacks of her lips, she tucked the mirror and gloss away before gathering her thick, curly hair into a neat, tight bun.

Fuck.

"What are you gonna call your first child, Al."

"What?"

Julian had walked up to my side, resting his hand on my shoulder. "You've been staring at her long enough to have mentally fucked her and gotten her pregnant physically, so I have to ask: what will you name your first child with her? Is it going to be Alessio Junior?"

I playfully nudged him away and turned my attention back to Desirée, who was once again checking her reflection in the mirror, adjusting her bun as she did.

As she tucked the mirror into the back of her bag, it slipped and fell.

She gracefully bent down to retrieve it, the sunlight highlighting the smoothness of her brown skin along her cleavage, with the small black dot atop her left breast looking more elegant than ever.

"Al, let's get going already. We should have been at the hospital 20 minutes ago. Vanessa is blowing up my phone with her stupid texts."

Ignoring Julian, I watched on as a guy on a motorcycle pulled up to Desirée, and she leaned in to hug him before hopping on the bike as he handed her another helmet. I slipped on my sunglasses and watched them ride off.

"Who was that? I thought you said she didn't have a boyfriend."

Julian grabbed the car keys from my hand with an exasperated sigh. "I'll drive then."

...✍︎

I lit my cigar and exhaled a cloud of smoke, the nicotine soothing my frayed nerves.

Julian's laughter pulled me back to reality.

I watched him as he ran his fingers through his stylish mane and then through his scruffy beard while admiring the view. "It's called an obsession, Al. In case your playboy ass hasn't figured that out yet," he remarked.

"I'm just curious about her, that's all."

I released another thick plume of smoke, my mind still racing with thoughts of the guy she had gotten on the motorcycle with. I hadn't seen his face, but I could tell I was taller than him.

"Come on, Al," Julian interrupted my line of thoughts again. "Have you thought and dreamt about anything else besides having your dick inside Desirée all week?"

"Not everything revolves around sex, Julian." But I didn't expect him to understand what I'd just said. Julian branded himself as a sex symbol, and with looks and a body like his, I couldn't blame him. Standing at about 6 feet tall-maybe an inch taller than me-he had a way of casting a spell on any woman he winked at.

Rumors went round that Julian had been with half the female professors to maintain his grades, given his reputation as a party animal who seemed too busy to study. The honest truth is that he is actually quite smart and has been on scholarship all along, though he had slept with one T.A. because she was, according to him, a real pain in the dick.

In a real sense, Julian and I weren't exactly close. I only really knew him through Carl, my best friend.

Julian had slept around enough to know who to ask about any girl on campus, so in Carl's opinion, we needed him.

He wasn't wrong about Desirée: I wanted her, but not just to fuck her. I wanted more, and I was having a very hard time defining what 'more' meant in my case.

"Did you get Vanessa anything?" Julian asked as he parked in front of the hospital.

I climbed into the driver's seat.

"Was I supposed to?" I replied, exhaling one last thick cloud of smoke and tapping the ash into the ashtray. "You know I can't stand her. The only reason I'm here is to find out where she got all that Four Loko."

Vanessa was just another casualty on the shelf, another heart hurt by Julian, and she hadn't taken it well.

Just two nights ago, when Julian ended things with her, she drowned her sorrows in alcohol. She drank so much that she ended up passing out from alcohol poisoning and had to have her stomach pumped. She got wasted at my nightclub on Four Loko, an illegal drink that's been circulating around my club lately, and I still hadn't figured out who was behind it. If I didn't get a handle on it soon and the police came asking questions, I was going to be in serious trouble.

Julian only came to see Vanessa, despite having ended their relationship himself, as he hoped to persuade her not to complicate things for him and his future girlfriends.

And with Vanessa, that might work if she suddenly develops amnesia and forgets Julian's net worth and his big cock.

"I'll find a parking spot and meet you inside," I told Julian.

"Call me when you reach the front desk."

...✍︎

As I entered the hospital, it felt like I'd choked on air, triggering a bout of coughing.

I reached the front desk and called Julian.

"She said she's in the ER," Julian told me. "Room three. I'm heading there. Where are you?"

"I'm at the front desk," I replied through coughs. "I'll call you later."

The coughing continued, forcing me to sit in the waiting area. I covered my mouth with my handkerchief as the fits grew more intense, loud, and attention-grabbing, which was the last thing I wanted. With each cough, pain shot through my chest, and I began to struggle for breath.

"I do hope you're here to get that checked out," a voice said. I looked up to see a nurse observing what I had just coughed into my handkerchief. I attempted to respond, but another wave of coughing hit me, leaving me wheezing uncontrollably, as if someone were strangling me and making it impossible to breathe.

"Come with me," the nurse instructed as I continued to cough. She led me into a room and helped me lie down on a hospital bed.

Quickly, she moved behind a table, retrieving an oxygen mask and adjusting a connected tube.

As I breathed into it, the intense coughing began to subside, and I felt a cool sensation flowing through me.

"Take it slow now," she advised, and I focused on taking slow, steady breaths until I could finally breathe normally again.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it, feeling grateful that my life, which had just flashed before my eyes, was still mine.

Moments like these make you appreciate the little things we often take for granted, like the gift of free oxygen.

"That was quite something, huh?"

Now I had a chance to really see the nurse who had just saved me. She wore navy blue scrubs like many of the nurses around, her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose as she observed me with her arms crossed and a slight smile. She appeared to be in her 40s.

"You're old enough to understand that smoking is seriously harmful to your health. You might not have had a reason to realize it before, but now I assume you do."

I coughed softly. "I'm not an addict, if that's what you think, ma'am."

"Coughing up black mucus is hardly a sign of inexperience."

I inhaled deeply from the oxygen mask, coughing lightly as I focused on my steady breathing. Feeling a bit better, I sat up while still holding the mask to my face.

"Thank you," I mouthed to her as she searched through a nearby cabinet.

"What's your name, boy?" she asked, still facing away from me.

"Alessio."

She turned around with a smile. "A handsome young man like you must have girls falling at your feet like mosquitoes at a summer BBQ. It would've been a real shame if you hadn't made it few minutes ago." She chuckled as she approached, balancing a metal tray filled with items on her left hip.

"There's an organization," she began. "The uhh ... The Addiction Recovery Resources. They've launched a nurse-led initiative to help smokers quit called the Breathe-Free Program." She paused, likely to check if I was paying attention, since I had picked up my buzzing phone. I quickly put it away.

"Essentially, this program involves nurses finding smokers, whether they're beginners or long-time users. It doesn't matter as long as you're puffing unwanted smoke into the clean air and harming your lungs in the long run. Once we find you, you have the option to participate and embark on a counseling journey. You'll get to learn firsthand what smoking can do to a person. After 30 days of participation," she paused to set the tray beside me and pulled out her phone, which had just pinged. "You'll get to sign a pledge to quit smoking for good ... just a moment."

She turned away to send a text, while I watched her, fully aware that I wasn't ready for whatever it was that she was suggesting. I smoked when I was nervous or irritated because it helped me relax. It was my way of coping.

"Cynthia Carson, are you in here?" Another nurse entered, wearing a facemask and gloves, dressed in green scrubs. "Oh, there you are, Cynthia. In the next twenty minutes, we're scrubbing in. Are the instruments ready?"

"I had an emergency, Donna. I'll be there soon."

"Make it quick. Looks like an all-day affair with that guy. I swear, Cynthia. We getting all types of crazy up in here lately."

Once the other nurse left, the woman turned to me, but just as she was about to speak, her phone rang. She excused herself, and I got off the hospital bed, taking off the oxygen mask as I'd started to feel better.

"Desirée, let's discuss this later. Please! Bye!"

Desirée?

"So, are you in?" I stared long at the woman, beginning to see the slight resemblance as she gathered her thick curly hair to secure a surgical cap on it.

Desirée's mom?

"Am I getting a yes, Alessio?"

"Um... y-yeah. I guess. Where do I sign?"

She picked up the tray. "Come back here tomorrow around 4 PM, and we'll have a chat."

"Sure."

"Take care of yourself, Alessio." With that, she walked out.