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What is she never calls?
Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, right?
Fuck off! Yes, I do. She’s carrying my kid!
Maybe it’s better if I “accidentally” bump into her. That way, she can’t ignore my text and it will seem like this natural coincidence. Like fate is playing a hand and I had nothing to do with it.
Is that lame?
Yes, it’s fucking lame! But do it anyway.
This dogged sense of responsibility plagues me as I scour the campus looking for her. I walk up to anyone with eyeballs and ears, asking if they know a girl named Caroline with red hair.
I get a variety of looks, but most of them are curious.
Casey the Man Slut is looking for a particular girl?
This is unheard of, and I’m probably shaking the gossip tree so damn hard it’s gonna bite me on the ass, but I have to find her.
Glancing at my watch, I figure I’ve got at least one more hour to spare before I’ll have to bail on this and start again tomorrow. I have to squeeze in a workout before practice. Just something light to get my body warm and make up for my half-assed attempt this morning. Even the guys noticed, though they were nice enough not to call me on it. I’m off in a big way right now, and they get why. Their silence was appreciated. I don’t need to be told about the tidal fuck that’s hitting me right now. I know!
Flinging open the main library door, I figure this should probably be my last stop before I head to the hockey arena. It’ll likely take me an hour to search every corner of this place. It’s three floors.
Walking up to the main desk, I rest my hands on the counter and try for a smile, but who knows what the fuck is crossing my face right about now.
The librarian behind the computer glances up at me. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for a student. Her name’s Caroline, and she has red hair.” How many times have I said that today?
“Um…” She frowns at me the way most people have for the last hour and a half. “There are a lot of people in the library right now.”
“I know.” I cringe. “I just…” Running a hand through my hair, I let out a heavy sigh, and she must sense how desperate I am.
“I think I may have seen a girl with long red curls walk in here a little while ago.” She points over her shoulder. “I don’t know where she is right now, but she went that direction.”
My insides jump like I’m an eight-year-old kid who’s just been given money for the ice cream truck.
“Thank you,” I mumble, hustling away from the desk and starting a systematic search of the first floor.
I don’t find her until the second. She’s at the end of a large table, her face hidden behind a wall of ginger goodness. Shit, I really do love her hair. I’ve always loved red hair. I don’t even know why, but redheads catch my eye every single time. And she’s not just any redhead. She’s fucking gorgeous.
I watch her for a minute. She scratches behind her ear with the end of her pen, then tucks her hair back, exposing her face to me.
Yep. Fucking gorgeous.
Will our kid be that pretty? Will it have red hair?
Nausea stirs in my gut again.
I can’t have a kid. Why am I even thinking this shit?
Taking a step forward, I walk right into the chair at the end of the table. It tips sideways, landing on the floor with a bang. The noise is stupidly loud in this quiet space, and I scramble to pick up the chair and ignore all the eyes on me.
But then I look up and she’s gaping at me. Her blue eyes look about ready to pop out of her head as I jog the last few steps over to her.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” she whisper-barks.
