I try to recall what I had for dinner yesterday. The Miller's dinner party is all that comes to mind. It must be food poisoning or simply from the shrimp they served.
I feel nauseous, the hair sticking to my forehead due to my damp skin. I decide to take a shower, getting a change of clothes from my room. I turn on the water and remove my clothes.
The coolness of the water makes me feel better instantly. I step out after lathering vanilla scented body wash on.
My mind keeps thinking back to a few weeks ago. I find myself panicking, knowing it could be possible. The dates add up, and I know I've read somewhere that some people don't show for a while.
I swallow the lump in my throat, grabbing my keys and purse. My parents would question why I'm leaving so early, pretending as if they care about my wellbeing.
As predicted the two of them sit at the dining room table. The smell of food makes my stomach grumble, and not of hunger. I try to keep it down, taking slow breaths.
My dad notices me first, setting his coffee mug down. "Where are you heading to so early?"
I step closer to the table, avoiding my mothers stare. "Alice and I agreed to have breakfast together."
He nods, going back to reading on his cellphone. My mother clears her throat, a brow arched.
"Your sister is coming tonight, don't make any plans." The way her eyes dare me to argue makes me feel defeated.
She's well aware that my older sister and I have the rockiest relationship on earth. It began as soon as I was born, Holly absolutely hated me. I guess she was spoiled and used to being the center of attention.
Now we're older, and she's never tried to mend things. It doesn't help that my parents adore her, and look at me as if I'm not their own creation.
Finally escaping the house, I climb in my car. I remember why I'm going to the store and sigh. If it's positive, I'll have to tell my ex-boyfriend. After the two of us shared a night I always thought of as special, he ended things. My father owns part of a business in town, Thomas always dreaming of working there.
After the two of us graduated last year, he worked his hardest to convince my dad that he was qualified. I helped at my dads' office since I took a year off despite how upset it made my parents. I overheard Thomas telling one of the guys there.
His parents are equally wealthy, but his interest was doing business, not fashion, or editing magazines. Now I'll feel even worse if I am carrying his child. I still have options, but because I'm stubborn, I always go with what I think is best. My parents don't have a say in this, not when I've devoted my entire life to trying to make them proud.
I pull into the nearest drugstore and park my car, sitting there for a couple of minutes before finally getting the courage to go inside. The summer heat immediately hits me, making me wish I wore less clothing. The automatic doors open, cool air hitting me as I walk in.
I walk to the aisle that holds various different types of tests. It's overwhelming and I find myself getting three different brands.
And because I haven't had breakfast, I grab a bag of sour patch kids.
Placing the items on the counter, I smile at the older woman.
Her golden brown hair has hints of gray. "Hi honey, will that be all for you?" She asks after ringing them up.
I nod, swiping my card. The price of the three tests combined is insane. I take the bag, wishing her a good day. As soon as I start my car, the ac turns on. I sit for a couple of minutes, enjoying my candy.
I contemplate going to Thomas house and taking them with him there. I even consider calling my friend, knowing she'll be supportive. But for some reason, I want to do this alone.
I want to have time to prepare, and having anyone around might make me feel ashamed. I'm used to dealing with things on my own.
When I arrive, I'm relieved to see my parents' main car, not in the driveway. Stepping out with the bag in my hand, I nervously unlock the front door. I kick my shoes off at the front, closing the door behind me.
I make sure to grab a bottled water from the kitchen to calm my nerves. I lock the bathroom door, opening the three boxes and taking the digital one first.
I'll take one first, and try again later. I repeat to myself that I'll be okay. No matter the results, I can handle it. But even that doesn't help the fact that I could be carrying a baby.
I read the back of the box, doing as it says. Waiting the suggested time, I mindlessly scroll through my phone. Too distracted to even pay attention to anything. When the timer on my phone rings, I almost jump off the counter.
My nerves are doubled as I stare at the stick that's faced down.
Breathing in and out I bite my lip. "I can do this," I mutter with a shaky voice and hands.
Counting down from five, I flip the stick over, practically holding my future in my hands.
I frown, seeing it still loading. My brows crease until a word pops up. I feel myself freeze, my heart hammering against my rib cage.