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“Sleep,” I mutter. “I’m so tired.”
She helps me up from the floor, hooking her arm around my back as she leads me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I sink to the mattress, instantly feeling relieved when my head hits the stack of pillows. Jordan gets in with me, cuddling up next to me.
“This is the second time you’ve gotten sick since we’ve been home on break,” Jordan says, playing with my hair, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
“It must be from all the food Mom’s been forcing me to eat.” I laugh, and my stomach hurts again when I do.
“If I didn’t know any better,” she whispers, “ I would think you’re pregnant.”
I chuckle, dismissing her comment, until I consider the last time I had my period.
Jordan must note the confusion scrolling across my face and sits up, propping herself up on the mattress with her elbow, her gaze fixed on me. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant, Jem?”
“Ummm… I don’t think so.”
“When was your last period?”
I bite the inside of my cheek and stare up at the ceiling, mulling over her question. “October, I think.”
“Tomorrow is January first,” Jordan breathes. “And you had sex with both Tucker and Trent. Twins who have identical DNA.”
“Uh-huh,” I mutter, now feeling an intense wave of nausea, this time for a completely different reason. “Maybe I’m just late. My period has never been what you would call regular a day in my life.”
“Yeah, but two months is a long time to go without getting it. Even for you.”
She’s right, and I would be stupid to ignore the fact that there’s a good chance I am pregnant. But how could this happen? I used a condom with both of them.
“We were safe,” I assure Jordan.
“Condoms can expire or break, Jem. Just because you used one doesn’t guarantee you won’t get pregnant.”
“There was this one time…”
Oh, fuck.
Jordan cocks her head at me. “What happened?”
“The condom fell off inside me.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “And you didn’t get your ass to the clinic the next day for the morning after pill? What is wrong with you?”
“He said he came in the condom. I saw it.”
“Which one?”
“Trent, I think.”
“You think?” She shakes her head. “You need to be damn certain about the timeline. Because you will never know which of them is the father if—”
I raise my hand to silence her. “Stop it, Jordan. We don’t even know if I’m pregnant. I’ll go to the Health Clinic on campus when we get back to school, okay?”
She nods. “Okay. But don’t push this off any longer than necessary. If you’re pregnant, you need to know, and you have to figure out who’s baby it is.”
“If it’s either of theirs, it would be Trent. Nothing weird happened with the condom with Tucker.”
“And you’re one hundred percent sure you can tell them apart, that you know which of them you were with at each time?”
I nod again. “Yeah. I cleared it up with them right after I found out they are twins.”
Jordan sucks in a deep breath and blows it out. “I hope for your sake that everything’s okay.”
I force a smile for both of our benefits. “Me, too.”
Twenty-Six
Jemma
Winter break comes and goes, disappearing as fast as it came. Over the last few weeks, Trent has done everything in his power to win me over. He’s more than made up for the past, his affection toward me growing more each day. But I have one problem. I still haven’t faced reality—the possibility I could be pregnant.
Curled up on the bed with Trent, I rest my head on his chest and use the warmth from his body to shield me from the cold. It’s freezing outside, and even though the heat is on inside his house a chill runs through his bedroom. A shiver runs through me. Trent notices and pulls the comforter over my legs, draping it over my shoulder.
He rubs his hand down the side of my body over the thick fabric. “How about now?”
“Still cold,” I whisper.
Trent rolls onto his side and hugs me tight, still running his hands over me. “How about now?”
“A little better.”
Trent brushes my hair off my neck, his soft kisses sparking an instant heat that runs down the length of my body, stirring a deep hunger inside me. He stops long enough to ask once more, “How about now?”
“Not yet,” I mutter.
He goes back to work, his lips moving along my neck, hand slipping beneath the blanket. His fingers graze my stomach, leaving a brush of fire in their wake. I let out a soft moan as Trent continues his slow exploration of my body. He likes to torment me, torture me until I beg him to come. And I love when he does this.
“Now?” he asks, and I can feel the smirk on his lips.
