“Oh, come on,” she says, pinching my shoulder. “Fight back a little at least.”
“I’ll wrestle you for final say?”
It’s how we settle most disputes nowadays: playfighting. We wrestle until one of us (usually her) wins. Whatever the winner decides, goes. Either that, or Wren ends up being the tiebreaker.
Cherry suddenly finds intense interest in the grass. “Not this time,” she says. “Might have to find an alternative for a bit.”
I turn in my chair and start to rub her lower back. “Period troubles?”
Her soft hands cup my face. “Something like that.”
I stare up at her and inspect her face. Something is off. She’s reserved, almost nervous?
“Is everything okay?”
“God, I hope so.” She huffs out a laugh. She holds out a finger. “Wait here. I have something for you.”
I want to ask for a clue, but she’s run off before I can ask anything. I search the memory banks for something, anything that can tell me what the hell has her like this, but I’m drawing a blank.
She returns quickly, a small blue box with a darker blue ribbon in her hands. Somehow, she looks even more nervous. She even hesitates before she reaches me, a look of uncertainty flashing across her face.
“Cherry, you’re making me nervous. What’s going on?” I ask.
She opens her mouth, but changes her mind immediately, shaking her head and simply placing the box on the table in front of me. I eye it suspiciously.
“I’m scared.”
“That’s either about to change or get worse,” she replies.
Well, okay, then. Now I’m shitting myself.
I untie the ribbon, the silk soft under my fingertips. I lift the lid but don’t peek inside.
I turn to Oakleigh. “If you’ve put a snake in here again, I swear to God…”
“You said to surprise you!”
“For my birthday!”
She huffs and crosses her arms. “You didn’t specify.”
I roll my eyes and then steel my spine. With a deep breath, I turn toward the box and reach a hand inside.
Nothing bites me, which is good, and yet what I pull out is somehow so much scarier.
“Holy shit.”
“Surprise?” Oakleigh sings, but it comes out sounding more like a question than anything.
I stare at the pregnancy test in my hand.
I stand up slowly, not really trusting my legs to support me. A fresh layer of sweat appears across my brow, but this time it’s not because of the sun. I turn my wide eyes to Oakleigh.
“Get fucked,” I whisper.
She smiles nervously and places both of her hands over her stomach.
“No, seriously get fucked.”
