"Where did you say you're from?" I ask, placing another kiss on your neck, my friends staring at me in disbelief from the bar. "Because I could move out tomorrow..."

Never in my life has anything like this happened to me. I should be ashamed, in fact. But I can't find a shred of regret as I press you closer to me with my hands on your waist.

Why should I be sorry? For the simple fact that I'm in Puerto Rico, at my bachelor party, kissing another woman. Because no, you're not my fiancée.

We'd been here for two days, everything was going swimmingly, we'd go out partying in stupid costumes my friends had made, get drunk, and go back to the hotel to rest for the next day. But today, today I met you.

We came to a club recommended to us by the hotel staff, something only locals know about, and since I'm a public figure, they thought I might benefit from some privacy. I was already two drinks in when my eyes met yours on the dance floor. I know it's going to sound cliché, but damn, love at first sight does exist, and I've experienced it right through my life. Never in my life has a woman made me feel like that, and it's wrong of me to say that because I'm engaged and getting married in a week.

We danced a little, I bought you a drink, and yeah, maybe I ended up kissing you a total of 45 times, but honestly... I don't care, and that's what scares me the most. Every time I look up at my friends, they look at me like I've gone crazy, like five years of being together now don't matter because I'm literally throwing everything away.

For you.