Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

I wish I hadn’t let paranoia compel me to search online for information about how soon an embryo can actually implant. There were just enough delusionally excited expectant moms insisting they knew they were pregnant the day after conception for me to let my more logical side win this particular argument. “Wouldn’t that be more of an early abortion pill than preventative birth control?”

Her gaze drifts to mine a little more warily. “It’s emergency birth control.”

“It’s not 100% effective though, right? So, if I took it and I was pregnant, and I happened to be one of the people it wasn’t effective for, would it harm the baby?” I shake my head, waving her off. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need that. I’m sure I’m not pregnant. I’d rather not have to make a decision about that unless I absolutely have to, so why don’t we just wait and see. I don’t need the emergency birth control, but I would like to get birth control that is effective as soon as possible. The guy and I already broke up, so I don’t think I’ll actually be having sex in the immediate future, but I wanna be prepared just in case. I don’t want to go through worrying like this again.”

The polite doctor nods her head. “All right.”

I’m exhausted by the time I get home. Someone called off at work while I was at the doctor’s appointment, so as soon as I left I had to head straight to work and stay until close. Carter has been blowing up my phone since school. Telling me we need to talk, that he’s sorry, that I didn’t give him a chance to adequately explain.

I don’t want to hear any of it and I’m too tired, so I do the smartest thing—delete the message so all of his texts are gone. I plug the charger into my dying phone and climb into bed, then I sigh and arrange all my books around me. Since I had to work unexpectedly, I have a crap ton of homework to catch up on. The good thing about that is it makes me feel like I’m on the right track—and gives me absolutely no time to think of Carter.

A couple minutes after midnight when I’m finished, I finally check my phone before I crawl into bed. I expect to see more messages from Carter, but there aren’t any. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, but foolishly, I feel more of the latter emotion than I want to. I can’t help thinking how today might have gone if Erika hadn’t accosted me with reality this morning. I would have come home from a long day of life, curled up in bed, and wasted a bunch of time talking to Carter. I would have told him about my doctor’s appointment and insisted he probably already planted a little Carter clone inside me to try and make him sweat, but he wouldn’t have because he’s crazy.

I already miss him. That’s annoying. It was so hurtful to see him with Erika. I was so angry when it became clear he lied to me, so disappointed that he even went over there at all, but my heart hasn’t caught up to my new reality as completely as I thought it had. Now, in the quiet, in the complete aloneness, I recall the feeling of Carter’s warm body snuggled up against mine. My memory brings to life the feel of his featherlight touch as he trailed a finger along the curve of my shoulder. The tickle along my nape when his lips brushed that sensitive spot.

In the absence of Carter’s arms, temptation wraps itself around me. I lie awake telling myself to go to sleep, but my phone beckons me. I resist for a while, tossing and turning, but the lure of Carter keeps me awake.

Finally, I reach for the phone. My eyes are heavy but my mind won’t quiet down, so rather than try resisting temptation, I decide to check in on Carter. He’ll never know I did it, so it doesn’t matter. Rather than text him, I check out his social media. It’s hardly a window to his soul most of the time, so I don’t know what I expect to find.

I find nothing. It’s unusual for Carter not to keep up appearances, but he hasn’t updated any of his social media since I dumped him.

Sighing, I put my phone back on charge and snuggle up under my blanket. I’m too warm with it on, but I crave the cocoon-like comfort.

My bedroom door eases open, but the light stays off. My mom must be checking in on me before she goes to bed. I didn’t tell her I broke up with Carter, but I’ve been in a surly mood since I walked in the door tonight. I don’t feel like talking about it though, least of all with her, so I don’t roll over. I keep my back to the door and let her think I’m asleep already.