Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Panic sets it. It doesn’t creep or ooze its way through my body. It just full on sits on my chest right along with a red sign flashing the words “pregnant.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I start to pace. Liam is going to kill me even though this is technically his fault. If he had pulled out, I wouldn’t be dragging my hands through my hair right now while biting my lip lower, thinking the pain is somehow going to overtake my mind and I’ll forget about my period being late.
It doesn’t work.
I pick up the phone to call Liam, he’ll know what to do. I start dialing his number and then stop. What’s he going to do from Texas?
The only way to know for sure is to take a test. I can’t continue to speculate or assume without proof. Grabbing my purse off my bed, I sling it over my head and shoulder and rush out the door. If I hurry, I can catch the bus to Allenville. There’s a store there and everyone I know is at Mason’s game right now.
As I wait for the bus, my mind tells me to touch my stomach. As if my hand can feel whether there’s a baby growing in there or not. I refuse because doing so makes me feel like I’m accepting this and I’m not. I can’t be pregnant.
On the bus, I sit toward the front and lean on the side, staring out the window. It’s a twenty-minute ride to the store and it’s the longest twenty minutes of my life. When I get off, I have to walk for a couple of blocks. My feet are heavy, my steps slow. It’s like I’m dragging an extra person behind me who doesn’t want to move.
The bell chimes when I walk in, and the clerk greets me. Instead of going right to the aisle, I meander up and down the others, looking at random shit I have zero intention to buy. When I finally come face-to-face with the selection of tests, I buy two. One for now and one for the morning. I take them and a celebrity gossip magazine to the counter.
The clerk who said hi when I came in, picks up each box and scans it. I can’t look at her. I don’t want to see the disappointment on a stranger’s face. She tells me how much and while I’m pulling money from my wallet, she puts everything in a bag for me.
“It’s going to be okay,” she tells me.
I shake my head and give her a watery eyed smile.
“It is.” She puts her hand over mine. It’s calming but doesn’t make me feel any better. I smile again, thank her, and take the brown paper bag that is going to either change my life forever or mock me for overreacting.
On my way back to campus, all I can think about is Liam and what he’s going to say if I have to tell him I’m pregnant. His parents are going to lose their ever-loving minds, and mine . . . well, my dad isn’t a huge fan of Liam’s so I can’t imagine he’ll be okay.
Of course, this is assuming there is a baby and we decide to keep the baby. Liam and I are young, he has his whole career ahead of him, and I want to finish school. Neither of us are ready to be parents. Although, we’d at least be together. Surely, the school would give Liam off-campus housing or something. It’s not like we could raise a baby in a dorm room.
When I get back on campus I head to the nearest bathroom in my building. Thankfully, no one is in there, which gives me a little bit of privacy. In the stall, I follow the instructions, pee on the stick and then wait. No one has to force me not to look at the stick. This is the only test in life I hope I fail.
I have to do something while I wait though. After gathering my things, I walk toward the other side of the bathroom and slip into a shower stall. There’s a mirror in there and after setting my things down, and carefully avoiding a glance at the test, I stand in the mirror and look at myself.
To me, I look the same. There isn’t anything noticeably different. That is until I cup my breasts the way Liam does when we’re together and hiss at the contact. They hurt, which only exacerbates the thoughts in my mind.
“This isn’t good,” I say to my reflection. “None of this is good.”
I glance at my watch and see that five minutes have passed. Slowly, I move my stuff out of the way so I can see what the test says. Before I even fully look, my hand covers my mouth to stifle my cries. Tears stream in hot angry waves down my face, wetting my shirt. The sound coming from me isn’t human and it’s laced with fear.