With a groan, I push my lunch away and drop my forehead to the table.
“Still nauseous?”
My forehead makes a squeak on the table as I try to nod. “That’s what I get for eating cold leftovers three days in a row for breakfast.”
Jazz’s eyes narrow. If her head tips slightly to the right, I’m in trouble. She’s got this shrewd awareness that I envy. The stink-eye, head-tilt combo means something’s brewing in her brain. I’m not normally on the receiving end of her deep thoughts.
Her head tilts.
Oh no.
“What?”
“Gimme ten. Don’t move.” With that, she disappears out the door of the cafe.
I must fall asleep, because when someone’s hand touches my shoulder, I bolt upright in my seat. “Ugh.”
Moving too fast brings a new wave of nausea. The half-bagel I managed to force down threatens to make a reappearance.
“Come with me.” Jazz holds her hand out, and I stare at it for what feels like an entire minute before I meet her eyes.
“Are you kidnapping me?”
“You wish. I left my duct tape in my other backpack.” She shimmies her shoulders at me. “Plus, we both know I don’t need to kidnap you. Come on, princess. On your feet.”
The very fact that she’s helping me stand up has alarm bells ringing in the back of my mind. She’s never this maternal. Do I look that bad?
I must if she’s so determined to be nice to me. Maybe she needs something. Maybe she wants my notes from class this morning. She was distracted by the guy two seats in front of her.
She doesn’t stop until we get back to my dorm room. It takes three tries to get the key in the lock, and as soon as the door opens, I drop my bag and make a beeline for the bed.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Jazz intercepts me, redirecting my trajectory to the bathroom. She turns me to face her, cups my cheeks in both her palms and her face softens.
Am I dying? I’ve never seen her be so concerned. She’s all party all the time. What the fuck is going on?
“When was your last period?”
“I had one last month. It’s been about four weeks.”
Her head’s already shaking before my sentence ends.
“I haven’t missed one.” I finally catch on to where she’s going with this, and my stomach drops. “No.” The word falls from my mouth on a heavy sigh. “I can’t be. It was one time. Just one. And we were protected.” And I really did have a period last month. Sure, it was on the light side, but it was a period. There’s just no way.
Ice fills my veins. Not wanting to confirm her suspicions, still firmly planted in denial, I take in what she’s holding in her hand. It’s a bag from the local pharmacy.
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.
“Yep. We’re doing this right now. I’m not letting you avoid this. Pee on the stick, and we’ll know one way or the other. One of us is right. Let’s see which it is.” She unboxes the pregnancy test and points the stick at me.
“Do you know how unlikely it is to conceive from a one-night stand? Especially considering I was on protection?” I try to stand up straight, to seem dismissive, indignant, confident. But my insides churn so hard that I’m not any of those things.
“Actually.” Her face darkens as she wiggles the stick. “I know exactly how unlikely it is.” There’s something in the tone of her voice that makes me think she’s speaking from experience. But Jazz doesn’t have any kids.
“Even if you have wholly unprotected sex on the right day of the month, there’s only a twenty-ish percent chance of conceiving from that session.” She arches her brow. “Ask me how I know.”
No. Fucking. Way.
She’s unrelenting with the pregnancy test, so I just whip down my undies and plant myself on the fucking toilet. If she’s going to make me do it, she can tag along for the whole ride.
