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Brett and I broke the one time only rule almost immediately. At first, we justified it by saying that it was meant to be one time in every position, but then, we started repeating positions, also almost immediately, and neither of us said anything about it ever again.
We were avoiding having any kind of conversation that addressed either that or what it was that was going on between us. I was avoiding it, anyway. Brett hadn’t brought it up, so I just assumed that he was avoiding it, too.
My crush had grown by leaps and bounds since we’d started sleeping together, and I was pretty sure that I liked him more than I should’ve. I had no idea how he felt about me, but the way he looked at me nowadays made me feel all fuzzy inside.
I’d wanted to ask him on numerous occasions over the course of the three weeks that it’d been since I’d given him my virginity, but it was like we’d made an unspoken rule not to talk about it.
Whatever it was that was going on, I loved it. Things were great between us. Where I’d thought he was hot before, I now felt profoundly drawn to him. Like there was invisible string that pulled me to him whenever he was near, and like I wasn’t a complete person when he wasn’t.
I lived for our stolen kisses and hidden touches. I counted the days until we could be together again like it was my religion. We’d managed to snag a few nights alone here and there, a couple of times a week.
Mark was busy at work with some project that Brett had helped him come up with, and Brett’s mom had gone to visit a friend in Florida for a week, but otherwise, we went back to the hotel and got lost in each other.
Each time that we were together, it just got better. I didn’t think that I’d ever tire of him, and the thought scared me, but not as much as the square, cardboard box I was holding in my hand. Staring at my calendar at work the day before, I realized that I’d been so wrapped up in Brett that I hadn’t noticed that my period didn’t show up a week ago.
I wasn’t too worried, because between the excitement about Brett and stress at work, I was sure that it was going to come any day now. But I’d bought a pregnancy test on the way home from work anyway. It was a whim that I’d given into because I was passing a drug store when it hit, and it felt like the right thing to do.
But I wasn’t pregnant. The thought was ridiculous. Brett and I had been careful each and every time. Not even once had we had so much as a near miss. We both brought condoms each time, and Brett made sure to sheath himself before he got near me.
We talked once, about a week ago, about my going on some other form of birth control because I desperately wanted to feel him properly, skin-on-skin. But then we got sidetracked by Brett’s eagerness to go bare, and well, I’d done some research on the different options but hadn’t pulled the trigger yet.
The wrapping of the test crinkled when I pulled it off, and I dropped it in the trash can next to me. The blue flap slid open easily, and I shook the instructional leaflet and the plastic stick out. It was the first test that I was taking, but I wasn’t an idiot. I knew how it worked, and it had a digital display screen, so I dropped the leaflet in the trash, too, and stared at the white plastic tube like it was going to bite me.
Stop it. You’re not pregnant. Just get it over with.
I sighed, then obeyed the firm voice in my head. The display lit up soon after, like it was obeying the voice to get it over with, too. Only, it didn’t quite say what I was expecting.
Blinking at the black lettering over and over again, numbness spread through my limbs and my vision blurred. But the words didn’t change.
2- 3 Weeks Pregnant, they said.
Fuck me.
That’s what got you into this in the first place, the voice said snidely. It had to be a mistake. These things malfunctioned all the time. I grabbed the spare I’d purchased because I wanted to be prepared, repeated the test, and got the same result.
My mind splintered and spun. How was this possible?
I’d looked at Brett like he was a superhero growing up, but surely, he couldn’t actually have super, latex defying sperm. Only, it seemed that he did. The little fuckers had to go and be just like him and give it their all.
Who the hell was that fertile? The man basically had virility stamped on his damn forehead, so of course he was. But me?
I’d never given much thought to having children.
They were some obscure, maybe-in-the-future thing that I was sure would form part of my life one day, but not today. And yet somehow, I had a tiny little human growing in my belly.
My hands flew to my stomach and though I knew it was physically impossible that my body had already started changing, it kind of felt like it did. There was a little part of Brett and a little part of me in there.
Shit.
Brett.
We hadn’t talked about whether we wanted kids. I had no idea where he stood on that. We hadn’t even talked about the one-time thing. Kids were so far off the radar of things that we talked about, they might as well have been in another dimension.
A borderline manic laugh pierced the bathroom, and it took a few seconds to register that it had come from me. I dropped the second test in the trash after the other, my fingers too numb to hold onto anything.
Somehow, I managed to find the way to my bed, and I sank down onto it, folding my hands over my tummy. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear Mark knock, but suddenly, he was there, his head peeking through the door he had cracked open. I hadn’t even heard him come home.
“I’m taking out the trash, can I come get the stuff in your bathroom?”
