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I settled on the couch, trying to dismiss the returned letter from my mind. But it proved impossible.
Memphis got up and put a pack of popcorn in the microwave. As it popped my nose wrinkled and bile crawled up my throat. “What’s wrong with the popcorn? It smells gross,” I gagged.
Memphis’ brows crinkled together in confusion. “It smells fine.”
The microwave dinged and he took it out. As soon as the bag opened I went running for the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach.
I heard Memphis’ heavy steps against the floor as he hurried to me. His long fingers gathered my hair away from my face. “I threw it away. Are you okay?” He asked as I heaved against the toilet.
“Do I look okay?” I coug
hed.
He released my hair and wet a cloth, which he then handed to me.
I cleaned myself up and brushed my teeth. The whole time Memphis stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I questioned before rinsing my mouth.
He appeared nervous, like he wasn’t sure if he should say something, but eventually he said, “I know I don’t have a vagina or anything, and I really don’t know anything about this, but…” He ran his fingers nervously through his hair. “Could you be pregnant?”
I dropped the bottle of Listerine and since it was lidless blue liquid sprayed across the tile floor. We both hurried to grab the bottle and wipe up the mess.
My heart raced and sweat broke out across my forehead. Could he be right?
“Oh God.” I slapped a hand across my mouth and thought I might be sick again, but there was nothing left in my stomach.
I crumbled to the floor and tears streamed down my face.
I hadn’t even thought there was a possibility that I was pregnant. I’d chalked up all the weirdness I’d been experiencing lately to what I’d gone through.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold it together, but it wasn’t working. Memphis sat down beside me and soon his arms joined mine. He coaxed my head to his chest and let me cry. He didn’t say anything comforting. His hold on me was enough. He was a better friend than I deserved but I clung to him with all the strength I had left.
My tears soaked his shirt and the mascara coating my lashes stained the white material.
“It’s going to be okay, Sutton. I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.” He rubbed a soothing hand up and down my arm.
His kind words only made me cry harder. I didn’t deserve him. Not at all.
His fingers tangled in my hair and he continued to whisper sweet words—each one an individual stab to my heart, because if I was honest with myself, I was falling for him and now I could be pregnant with another man’s baby. True, I wasn’t looking for a relationship yet, but that didn’t mean I planned on being alone for the rest of my life. Memphis was good for me. I’d been fighting against him and my feelings for far too long and now there could possibly be a very large obstacle standing in our way. But I wasn’t only crying because of Memphis and the possibility of a future with him. I wasn’t that selfish. I was mostly crying because if he’d guessed right, and I was having a baby, I was going to be raising a child by myself and that was a scary thought.
“Please, stop crying,” he begged, trying to soothe me with soft touches and kind words.
“You shouldn’t be comforting me right now.” I removed myself from his embrace and rubbed at my eyes.
“Sutton,” he put a hand on my shoulder and forced me to look at him, “I want to be here for you. Why are you so afraid to let me in?”
I laughed at that. “Memphis, you’re a good guy. A really good guy. And I’m fucked up. I don’t deserve your kindness. You shouldn’t waste your time on someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” He repeated my words back to me. “Don’t you realize, we don’t choose who we fall in love with, it just happens.”
“Are you saying that you love me?” I gasped, scooting away from him.
He shook his head. “Yes. No. I don’t know,” he mumbled. Meeting my eyes, he said, “I feel like I’m on my way to that point.” Swallowing thickly, he added, “I know you don’t feel that way about me, and I’d never pressure you, but…” He trailed off. “Maybe one day?” He framed it as a question.
“I-I-” I gaped, at a loss for words. “I don’t know. Maybe.” My voice was softer than a whisper, but he nodded like he heard me.
He stood and held his hands out to me to help me up. “There’s no point in staying cooped up in the bathroom.”
