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"Are you checking her pulse?"
Cynthia nods. Zayn shifts uncomfortably as we both wait for her to count my heart rate. When she releases my wrist, she grins, and that reaction throws me a little. It seems odd given the circumstances.
“So, do you have a sore throat, a cough or congestion?"
I frown. "No, come to think of it, I don’t.”
“It’s not the flu then?” Zayn questions.
“No, I don’t believe it’s the flu.”
Zayn swipes a hand through his hair. “Then what’s going on?"
Cynthia stands, brushing her hands over her ankle length skirt. "I do have one question to ask before I give you my opinion on what’s happening here.”
“Okay, so what’s the question?” Zayn says, flicking his gaze to me briefly. I can see he’s as confused as I am. Confused and concerned.
Cynthia turns her attention back to me. “When was your–"
“Where is she?” Xeno shouts, the door crashing open as Dax and York rush in behind him.
I can feel their concern like a wall of bricks crashing down, and I brace myself for the impact. Xeno's gaze snaps to me on the couch. "What the fuck happened?" he demands, his voice sharp with worry.
"Pen fainted," Zayn explains, climbing to his feet. "She hasn't been feeling well."
Xeno strides over and kneels in front of me, taking my hand. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I assure him, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just a little tired."
"You don't look fine," he counters, his gaze scanning my face.
"How long have you been feeling unwell?" Dax asks, slightly calmer than Xeno, but only just.
I look up at him, feeling like I’m causing so much unnecessary drama. "It’s nothing really. I think it’s just a culmination of working too hard. I’m sorry to panic you all. I honestly feel okay now. Really.”
“Kid, stop making light of this. You don’t just faint for no reason," Dax says, his voice laced with concern.
“We should take you to the hospital,” York adds, his expression serious. "They can take some blood or something. Do some tests?”
"I'm sure it's nothing," I protest weakly, but they're already discussing who should grab the car and who should let our friends know what’s happening. “Honestly. We’ve all been reacting differently to working too hard. This is just how my body is handling it. I’m positive it will get better with a good night’s rest. Please, I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“This isn’t up for debate, Titch. You’re sick. We don’t know what’s going on, and we love you. You’re going,” York says firmly.
“Well, I think I can help you there,” Cynthia says gently.
“We appreciate your offer to drive her, but you’re needed here for Arden and Jakub. We’ll take her,” Zayn says, glancing over at York. “Do you want to bring the car around back so Pen doesn’t have to walk through the club? I’m sure she could do without the audience.”
“I wasn’t offering to drive Pen to the hospital,” Cynthia explains, glancing over at me, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Pen doesn’t need a hospital right now.”
“With all due respect,” Xeno says, standing, “I’d feel better if she had some blood tests run, or whatever the hell needs to happen to find out what’s going on, and that can only be done at a hospital.”
“Oh, I’d definitely think an appointment with a doctor will be needed to confirm my suspicions, but that can wait until Monday. Pen isn’t ill–”
“She just fainted,” Zayn reminds her.
“She did. But she’s not ill,” Cynthia presses, looking between my four guys, clearly not in the least bit worried about whatever’s going on with me. “I believe she’spregnant.”
The room falls silent as Cynthia's words sink in.
