The Senior (College Years 4)

“Throwing up, coming out both ends?” He winces.

“Gross. And no. Though I do fe

el nauseous.”

“Pregnant?” Jake laughs.

I don’t.

Oh shit.

Pregnant?

His laughter dies when I don’t react the way he wants me to. “Nah.”

I meet his gaze, then shrug.

“Ava, no.”

Um, I can’t remember the last time I had my period. The times with Eli, we never used a condom. Because I’ve been on the pill for pretty much the entirety of our relationship.

With the exception of the last few months. I kept forgetting to renew my prescription, so they could send me the pills via mail and I eventually thought, screw it.

Not like anyone was screwing me.

But someone has recently. Quite a few times.

With no condom.

“Damn it, Ava, you can’t be pregnant with that asshole’s baby.” The look on my brother’s face is nothing short of horrified.

“Don’t call him an asshole.” I fall heavily onto the edge of my bed, staring off into space. I use an app on my phone to track my period, but lately, I haven’t even opened it. I used to obsessively check it to track my cycle, but after a while—and being on the pill for so long—I rarely saw the need. And I was still regular like clockwork.

Grabbing my phone, I go into my app, ignoring Jake who’s huffing and puffing and muttering over Eli, and I check when I should’ve had my period last.

Over two weeks ago.

I immediately text Autumn.

Me: Could you come to my room please?

“You should go,” I tell Jake, who stops his pacing to glare at me. “Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“That’s it? You’re going to drop a bomb on me and then expect me to act like nothing’s happened?” Jake rakes his hands through his hair, clutching the back of his head.

He looks really stressed out.

“I think we’re both overreacting.” It’s amazing how calm and level-headed I feel in this moment. I don’t know what’s come over me. “Seriously, I think it’s just the flu.”

“If you say so.” He sounds doubtful.

I jump to my feet and go to my brother, sending him an imploring look. “Don’t utter a word of this to anyone, okay? It’s probably not even true, but I don’t want you starting rumors or whatever among the family. You can’t even tell Hannah.”

His expression turns pained. “I tell Hannah everything.”

“You can’t tell her this. Besides, there’s nothing to tell. I don’t even believe it. I’m sick,” I say firmly.

“I would never tell anyone about this, even if it was true. That’s your news to tell,” he says, now looking offended. “I know how to keep a secret.”