Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
I don’t know if this was a good idea, either.
All I know is that the orgasm that hits me is just as strong as it may have been if he were thrusting in and out of my body.
Drew comes with a moan, his body jerking as he silently orgasms. Way quieter than when we were actually having sex.
Intense.
A first for me.
And hopefully, it's not the last.
We lie there, sated, not uttering another word to one another. Then after about three minutes of silence, Drew finally says,
“I had no idea I was such a boob guy.”
My laughter is quiet. “We learn something new about ourselves every day.”
CHAPTER 33
TESS
…HE SHOULD HAVE PULLED OUT.
I think I’m late.
And by late, I don’t mean “I showed up to class late,” or “I was late with a credit card payment.”
I’m talking about my period.
Which is weird because I’m like clockwork most months.
There is no way…
But it’s been four days and…
Nothing.
Not a spot.
Not a speck.
Zero sign that a period is forthcoming.
The sun dips below the horizon over the neighboring apartment building, casting a warm golden glow across my apartment. It’s pretty this time of day, and I’d normally love the sunset, but I want to puke right now.
I’m nervous.
I sit on the couch, clutching my phone tightly in one hand, the other hand unconsciously rubbing my forehead.
Seriously, thank god my roommates are gone. The last thing I want to tell them is my suspicions before I have proof because what if I’m only imagining it? What if I’m so stressed out it’s just late? That happens, yeah?
If I’m being honest, the first few times I had sex, I thought I might be pregnant, ha!
My heart races as I dial Miranda's, my stomach churning with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty.
Her phone rings. And rings. And rings, until FINALLY her sing-songy voice answers.
“Is this an emergency because why are you calling and not texting,” she teases, her tone playful and lighthearted. "But for real. Why are you calling?”
I take a deep breath.
I have no idea how to start. Or how to put this.
It could be nothing!
It’s been four days…
"Miranda…” I start, already feeling out of control. “I haven’t gotten my period, and it’s been four days."
There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, and I can hear my best friend’s wheels turning.
"Wait, are you saying what I think you're saying?"
I nod even though she can't see me. "What if I’m...?"
I can’t even say the actual words. “What if I’m…you know?”
That.
Preggo.
Oh god.
“You’re not,” she reassures me with almost no information because the idea of it being true is too surreal. “You can’t be.”
But I could be.
Because we didn’t use protection.
“But what if I am?”
A soft exhale of surprise escaped her lips. "Wow, that's... that's…are you sure?"
I lean back against the couch cushions, my mind racing with a million thoughts. "I mean, I haven't taken a test yet, but something’s off. My body just…knows, does that make sense? I'm kind of freaking out over here, Miranda."
I stand, pacing around my living room, my heart racing with anxiety. I need to confide in someone—lord knows I can’t tell my brother or my parents, at least, not yet—and Miranda is always the first person I call when I have a problem.
She knows everything.
She also knows I have a very low chance of getting pregnant.
Miranda's soothing voice floats through the phone. "Come on, relax. There's no way, Tess. Remember that time we laughed about the so-called 'pregnancy symptoms' when you had sex with that one guy Paul? It's just your body playing tricks on you."
I sigh. "I know, but it feels different this time.”
She chuckles. "Trust me, fate has better timing than this. Let's not jump to conclusions. Remember, we've got a girls' night planned next weekend, and you’ll feel normal. We'll laugh about this too, I promise."
Her optimism works; it begins to melt away my worries, and I smile a little. "You always know how to make me feel better, Miranda."
"Of course, that's what best friends are for. Now, go treat yourself to some chocolate, watch a cheesy rom-com, and relax. Everything will be okay." There’s some background noise, and it sounds like she’s moving around. “Listen, I wish I could come over, but I just walked into the chem lab for my makeup test.”
She lowers her voice. "Hey, it's going to be okay. First things first, have you talked to a doctor about this?"
"No," I admit, feeling a twinge of guilt for not seeking professional advice sooner. “Isn’t the first thing you do is run out and get a test?”
“Usually.” She laughs. “At least that’s what I’ve done, but you’ve had issues with your lady parts. You should go have an honest conversation about what's going on.”
Since when is she so mature all of a sudden?
"You're right. I should definitely do that." At some point.