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How can I put this on my mother?
Sobs wrack my body. How can I do this?
My phone vibrates on my desk. I shake my head, trying to control my breathing, realizing this breakdown can't be healthy for the baby. I stand up and I take a deep breath, grabbing my cell, my heart sinking even more when I see who it is; the one person I need right now. But he’s been ignoring me.
Phil: I'm sorry I ghosted you. Can we meet? x
I shake my head. How am I going to tell him?
Phil was my high school boyfriend up until six weeks ago. He was the soccer star while I was the head cheerleader for the football team. I loved him, but I wasn't in love with him, and I know he wasn't in love with me either. But he was my best friend until things took a bad turn, and he ghosted me. I tried calling him several times, but he ignored every call, dodged me at school, and even told everyone we had broken up. But he never told me; I heard it from the snickering girls in my class. I get he was embarrassed, but he knew he didn't break my heart. If anything, mine broke for him.
I sniffle as the image of his sad brown eyes fills my mind.
"Ok, darling, are you sure about this?"
I blink and give him a shy smile. "A bit late to ask that, don’t ’cha think?"
He chuckles a little, kissing my lips gently. I sigh, but not in contentment as usual; there's no spark of joy, no flutter in my stomach. Heck, he's currently naked on top of me, and I'm not wet for him. If anything, I feel like this is wrong.
He's even had to cover his member with lube, but after half a year of dating, I feel like I owe it to him.
How romantic!
I swallow, feeling like we're making a mistake, but rasp anyway, "I'm ready, Phil. I want you to take it."
He nods before kissing me again, and then pushing himself inside me. He stops just at my barrier. He pulls back, furrows his brows, then thrusts that last bit, tearing through my innocence, taking it as I take his.
I gasp but not in pleasure. Pain shoots through my thighs and lower stomach, my insides feeling like they are being torn apart.
Oh my God, that flipping hurts.
I dig my nails into his shoulders as he pulls out, not giving me time to adjust to him before pushing back in hard, causing more pain, the lube not helping at all. If anything, it flipping burns. I look at Phil, hoping he can see how uncomfortable I am, but his eyes are squeezed shut like he's in pain.
We are incompatible; we shouldn't be doing this, but I owe him.
I squeeze my eyes shut, too, not wanting to look at his expressions as pain shoots through me, his jerky hip movements going faster and faster before he grunts. I feel him get a little larger, hurting me more, before he stills.
I swallow hard. If that's what sex feels like all the time, then I can honestly admit I'd be happy never to do it again!
Phil breathes hard as a little bit of sweat drips from his forehead, his blonde hair a little messy. He quickly removes his member from inside me—and not with ease. I gasp in pain as he falls down beside me, only just fitting on my small bed. I look down and notice blood between my thighs.
I swallow hard. Am I supposed to bleed that much?
Probably not.
Phil clears his throat before grabbing hold of the bloodied condom, then throws it on my floor, making me cringe.
He looks my way. Turmoil shines through his brown eyes, making me furrow my brows.
Finally, he opens his mouth and speaks, admitting something I don't think he's ever admitted to himself, making my heart hurt for him.
"Fuck, I-I think I'm gay."
Back in the now, with a pregnancy test in my hand, I blink as more tears trail down my cheeks. After his revelation, he looked at me in wide-eyed shock before jumping over me. He quickly dressed, mumbling about calling me before he left me lying in bed, in pain and naked, thighs smeared with blood. I was angry with him, but not because of his revelation. I knew we weren't compatible the moment he entered me. For six months prior to that night, we barely touched each other. He'd wrap his arm around my shoulders when he took me out, but it felt more platonic. Still, I was angry at how easily he left me in that state and ignored me afterward.
I wasn't just his girlfriend; I was his best friend. I was the one who was always there for him when he called, and yet he pushed me away.
Shaking my head, I message him back.
