I'm propped up in the hospital bed with the stupid thin blanket pulled over my legs, trying not to look like I'm about to fall asleep from the pain meds.
The IV drip beeping softly like a metronome counting down time I didn't have much of.
The diagnosis had hit just hours ago—advanced cardiac angiosarcoma, a monster of a tumor coiled in the lining of my heart, already whispering into my lungs.
One month, give or take. That's what the doctor said, his voice steady but his eyes avoiding mine, as if looking too long might make it contagious.
I was 19, and my body, which had betrayed me with vague aches and dizzy spells for years, was finally confessing its secret.
But right now, with the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, all I felt was a numb haze, like I was watching someone else's life unravel.
Camila, Isabella, Ayla, and Aveline had arrived about forty minutes ago, crowding around the bed with their usual energy dialed down to a nervous half-volume.
They'd brought snacks, magazines, and that forced cheer people do when they're scared but don't want to show it.
We talked about safe things first: the new season of that reality show we all watched, how Aveline's cat had finally stopped peeing on her rug, Isabella's latest failed attempt at baking sourdough. Normal stuff. It felt good for a minute, like maybe everything was still normal.
Then the conversation drifted, the way it always did with us.
They're on a roll about their boyfriends.
Camila started it, leaning back in the chair with a dramatic sigh. "Ugh, speaking of failed attempts… I tried surprising Ethan with that new lingerie set yesterday. You know, the black lace one I showed you guys pictures of? He literally fell asleep on the couch before I even got to the bedroom. I was standing there like an idiot, feeling ridiculous."
Isabella laughed, covering her mouth. "Oh nooo. That's brutal. At least he's cute when he's asleep?"
"Barely," Camila muttered, but she was smiling. "We made up for it this morning, though. Woke him up properly. He was… very apologetic."
I lay there listening as the conversation eased into more personal territory, the way it sometimes did when we were all together and the filters came down. At first, they were careful—glancing at me every few sentences, like they were testing the water.
Isabella started it again, after a short pause. She rubbed the back of her neck, looking a little sheepish. "Okay, but seriously… last night with Sebastian, at his place, we started on the couch watching some dumb show, and then his hand was just… under my shirt. Slow at first, like he was asking permission with every touch. I ended up on top of him, grinding against him until we were both breathing hard. Then we moved to the bedroom, and he went down on me for what felt like forever. Like, really focused, tongue circling, fingers inside at the same time. I came so hard I had to cover my mouth so the neighbors wouldn't hear."
She stopped abruptly, eyes flicking to me. "Shit. Sorry, Blossom. That was… too much. I didn't mean to—"
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head even though it made me a little dizzy. "Don't stop. I want to hear it. Really. It's okay."
Camila looked at me for a long second, then at Isabella. "You sure? We can talk about something else."
"I'm sure," I told them. My voice was quiet but steady. "It makes me feel… connected. Like I'm still part of normal life. Keep going. Please."
Isabella exhaled, relieved. "Okay. If you're sure." She continued, softer now. "After I came, he flipped me over, went from behind. Slow thrusts at first, then deeper, faster. He kept one hand between my legs, rubbing me in circles until I came again. I was shaking by the end. He finished inside me, and we just lay there after, sweaty and laughing because my legs wouldn't stop trembling."
Ayla let out a small whistle. "Damn. That's hot." She hesitated, then looked at me. "You good, Blossom? Like, really?"
I nodded, even though my chest felt tight—not just from the story, but from the ache of never having had anything close to it. "Yeah. It sounds… intense. In a good way. Go on if you want."
Camila jumped in next, grinning a little wickedly but still checking my face. "Alright, if we're doing this… Ethan and I last month, when he was still doing it great. We were in the shower after a long day. He pinned me against the tiles, lifted one of my legs, and just slid in. No warning, just deep and hard right away. Water everywhere. He fucked me like that for a while—fast, rough, my back scraping the wall a little. Then he turned me around, bent me over, and went even harder from behind. I came twice—once from him hitting that spot inside, then again when he reached around and fingered my clit at the same time. He pulled out and came on my ass. We were both wrecked after."
She paused, eyes on me again. "Blossom?"
I swallowed hard. My face was hot, and there was this weird mix of envy and something almost hungry inside me. "I'm okay," I whispered. "It's… a lot to picture. But keep talking. I like it."
Aveline had been quiet, but now she spoke up, voice hesitant. "Mine's tamer, but… okay. That shy guy from the dating app. We were at my place. Mom and dad weren't home. He ate me out on the kitchen counter—legs over his shoulders, really slow and thorough. Never thought he was this good. Then I rode him on the couch. I controlled the pace, grinding down hard until I came. He flipped me onto my back after, missionary but with my legs up on his shoulders so he could go really deep. He came inside the condom, but I could feel him pulsing. It was… satisfying. No fireworks, but good."
She looked at me last, almost apologetic. "You alright hearing all this? We can stop anytime."
"No," I said, shyly. "Don't stop. It's alright."
They exchanged glances—relieved, maybe a little surprised I wasn't shutting down as I was the most shy one, and sick too. The room felt different now, charged but careful.
Ayla went next. "Mine was last month with this hot guy from the gym. We hooked up after closing. He had me against the mirrors in the locker room—clothes half-on, urgent as hell. He fucked me standing up, my legs wrapped around him, one hand gripping my throat just enough to make it intense. I came clenching around him, and he finished on my stomach. Quick, dirty, but so good."
I listened, my chest tightening—not from the tumor this time, but from a sudden, sharp envy that pierced through the fog. Alive. That's what they were describing. Bodies intertwined, hearts racing not from disease but from desire.
I'd never had that. Dates, no kisses. I was kinda too shy for stuff like that, I never had anything—nothing real, nothing that made me feel wanted, seen. And now?
With death hovering like a shadow at the door, the thought crashed over me like a wave: I want that.
Just once. To feel skin against skin, to lose myself in someone else's breath, to know what it means to be desired before my body shuts down for good. It wasn't about checking a box; it was about reclaiming something the cancer was stealing—my right to feel human, vibrant, even if just for a night.
Ayla checked on me again. "Still with us?"
I managed a small smile, even though my eyes were stinging. "Yeah. It all sounds… alive. Like your bodies are doing what they're supposed to. I've never had that."
The laughter was gone now. They were just listening, faces pathetic towards me.
I took a shaky breath. "I've never even kissed anyone properly. Never felt any of that. And now… with only a month or so left… I keep thinking I want to try. At least once. To know what it's like to be touched like that. To feel wanted."
Silence settled, thick but kind.
I swallow. My throat's dry. "Guys… I've been thinking."
Their eyes were fixed on me, and the weight of their serious gaze was impossible to ignore.
I shifted my gaze down, hoping to gather some courage to spill the words.
"About… sex." The word comes out flat. I didn't look at them. I looked down.
"I've never done it. And now I probably never will. But I want to. At least once. Before… you know."
Silence. Like, actual dead silence. I can hear the beep of the monitor down the hall.
Isabella's the first to speak, voice careful. "You mean… you want to have sex? Like, soon?"
"Yeah." I finally look at them. "I don't want to die a virgin. It sounds stupid, but it's not just about that. It's about feeling… normal. Alive. Like my body can still do something good instead of just falling apart."
Camilla's eyes were wide. She blinked fast. "Blossom…"
"I know it's weird to say out loud," I cut in. "But when I hear you guys talk about it. How it feels, how it makes you close to someone. I really feel hurt! I've listened to all of it and I've never had any of that. And now that I've got only a month. I don't want to just lie here and wait."
Camila asked . " So, you want to have sex?"
I nodded, cheeks burning. "Yeah. Not with just any random person. But… yeah. I want to know what it feels like. To feel close to someone like that. Just once."
They stared at my face, completely still, shock written all over their expressions. It made my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
My gaze dropped, shyness and pain lacing my voice.
"I know… it sounds crazy, coming from someone like me who'll probably be dead in a month."
When I finally looked up, I saw the pain in their faces.
Isabella squeezed my hand hard. "That's not crazy, Blossom. That's completely understandable. You are just 19 girl!!! You should definitely enjoy your life!
If that's what you need, we're in your corner."
Camila nodded right away. "Totally. It's not just the physical part—it's feeling wanted, feeling alive in your body. If you want that, we should help you find someone who'll make it good for you. Not some jerk."
Aveline frowned a little, glancing at the IV line in my arm. "Wait, hold on. I understand that you're thinking about this, Blossom, but… you're really sick right now. Like, really sick. Sex can spike your heart rate, blood pressure. What if it's too much? What if it makes things worse?"
Ayla bit her lip. "Yeah… I mean, I get wanting it, but your heart's already struggling. The doctors said no big exertion, right? Sex is… exertion."
I felt a pang of disappointment, but I knew they were right to worry.
"I know," I said quietly. "I'm scared too. But waiting here, doing nothing… that hurts more. I don't want my last days to be only this bed and machines. I want one good thing. Something real."
Camila waved a hand. "Then we make sure it's gentle. We find a guy who's patient, who listens. Someone who'll stop the second you say stop. There are guys like that."
Aveline still looked unsure. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Physically or… emotionally. You're already dealing with so much."
"I know," I said softly. "But doing nothing feels worse. I want to feel something everyone else can."
Isabella squeezed my hand again. "Then we'll figure it out. Carefully."
Camila pulled out her phone. "Okay, let's start brainstorming. We need someone sweet, not pushy. No players. No pity-sex creeps."
Ayla hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Fine. But we vet them hard. And we talk to your doctor first—seriously. Get clearance on what's actually safe."
Aveline sighed, but the corner of her mouth lifted. "You're all insane. But… yeah. If this is what you want, Blossom, we've got you."
We spent the next half hour tossing around names—guys they knew, friends of friends, even one of Isabella's friends who'd always seemed kind. They argued over who was too flirty, who was too shy, who might actually be decent. Camila kept joking about making them sign a "consent and gentleness contract," which made me laugh until I had to stop because breathing hurt.
By the time the nurse came in to check my vitals and shoo them out, we hadn't settled on anyone specific, but the plan was forming. They hugged me one by one—careful, quick hugs—and promised to text me updates.
When they left, I felt raw but not empty. There was this small, fierce thing burning in me now—wishing my body could feel something besides pain.