When I wake up in the morning my head is shrieking, my lips are swollen, I’m naked, and my vagina is numb, possibly bruised. There is a little sunshine making it through the blinds and curtains giving me just enough light to see. Glancing to my left confirms my suspicions, there sleeping next to me, is a really hot guy, except, I don’t know who he is. Five seconds later, and I remember his face, he’s Blondie’s boyfriend. Fuck, now I’m the dirty cheater. I groan and hear a soft, breathy chuckle from next to me.
“How bad?” His voice is thick with sleep. It’s hot.
“Well, I don’t know. Just last night, I was crying because my boyfriend cheated on me, only to wake today up having slept with a guy thus making him cheat on his girlfriend, who, incidentally is the girl with whom my boyfriend cheated on me with,” I groan again. “This universe is fucked up,” He laughs again, not quietly, and I wince, pushing my face deeper into his pleasantly fluffy pillow.
“Sorry,” he lowers his voice. “I was asking about your hangover. But if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t cheat. I broke up with her before I left that party. When I got back to my apartment I realized I need to drink more. So, I went to the bar,” I get an idea.
“Great, you remember last night. What the hell happened? I mean after the party, because I only remember leaving to go buy wine. I mean obviously we had sex, but, what happened before that?” I’m whispering, because even my own voice hurts my ears. “And please, whisper,”
“You need the hangover cure. Let me feed you and then I’ll tell you all about how you stripped and danced on the bar,” I sit up slightly and stare at him.
“That is not a funny joke,” I warn, but his face is straight and I’m kind of scared it’s not a joke, but then he grins.
“It’s pretty funny. Your face was priceless,” He stands and my breath catches in my throat. He is completely naked. And he has a boner. Holy shit. No wonder I’m numb!
“Damn, you were blessed,” he laughs and again, I wince and fall back onto the pillow. “There is a reason I stick to wine and small glasses at that. What the hell did I drink last night?” my voice is muffled and I wasn’t expecting an answer but he gives me one.
“Tequila. Six shots of it,” He goes into what I’m assuming is his closet and comes back out with a black shirt. “You can wear this. Your clothes aren’t,” he pauses a moment, presumably thinking for a word, “clean,” I really wish I remembered last night. He goes to his dresser and opens the second drawer. I look away, because he has a really nice ass and I just broke up with Jackson and he just broke up with Blondie and this just can’t happen. I sit up and slip the shirt on and just that task has the room swaying. I slowly lower myself back to the pillow.
“Here, you can wear these, they’ll be a bit big, though,” I stay where I am.
“I can’t, it hurts to move,” I hear him laugh and his laugh is really nice. Just like that, my memory comes back in flashes. Dropping Avery off and walking into the bar. Alex. His name is Alex. He helped me back to his apartment and I seduced him. Great. I groan again. “I’m not usually this pathetic, I promise,”
“You’re not pathetic, just a little broken. If you want, you can go back to sleep. I don’t have anywhere to be until later,”
“No, I have to get up and go home. What time is it?” I ask him, again lifting myself up and this time I’m able to stand. I glance at the sweats but decide against it. I’ll just walk home in his shirt.
“It’s almost noon.” He motions for me to follow and I let him lead me to the kitchen and he takes two glasses out of a cabinet and pours orange juice in them, handing me one. I take a sip, and sigh. It tastes amazing. I spot my purse on the table and I grab it hoping to find my phone, yeah, not there; it’s probably in my car. I do find a hair tie though, so I throw my hair up in a sloppy bun.
“I definitely have to go home. Avery has probably called the police reporting me missing. It’s been thirteen hours since she last saw me and I told her I was going to go buy a bottle of wine,” He nods and rinses out his empty glass at the sink.
“Okay, but I have an important question to ask you,” I raise an eyebrow and he stares at me intently. “Do you remember where you live now?” He’s teasing me; he’s got half a smirk on his lips. I glare at him.
“Yes. At least I think so.” I laugh. “Do you often take home hysterical drunk girls and have your way with them?” He grins at me.
“If I remember correctly, which is actually not as likely as I hope, it was you who came onto me,” I take another gulp of orange juice.
“That is entirely likely, but you totally could have-” I freeze. “Did you use a condom?” He doesn’t respond.
“I don’t remember; let me go check the garbage.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, this can’t happen. The world is not this cruel. Alex comes back in, face pale. “There isn’t a condom or a wrapper anywhere in my bedroom,” I don’t respond this time, not right away.
“Okay, I’m telling you this now: If I am pregnant, I am not getting an abortion. However, I do not expect anything from you.” I bring my hands to my forehead. Test, I need a test, and then I need a plan, because if I’m pregnant, I am in deep, deep shit.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you might not be pregnant,” His voice is calm and reassuring and I nod. I may not be pregnant.
“I don’t have my car, so if you walk me home, I will drive to the pharmacy and get a test,”
“Or I can drive you to the pharmacy. We can get the test together, and come back here and, if you are pregnant, figure the rest out together. I am not going to let you raise a baby alone and I would rather not give our baby up for adoption,” I freeze. Our baby; we might have a baby. Oh God. My headache isn’t going away anytime soon.
“I’m going to go put those pants on and we can go,” I walk back to his room. Shit.
Alex and I are standing in the aisle looking at the different kinds of tests and every freaking stupid box says I have to wait until my missed period. If I wanted to wait until the day I get my period then this wouldn’t be a problem! If I have my period then I’m not pregnant!
“So, do you know when you’re supposed to get it?” Alex asks me, raising an eyebrow.
“I’d have to check my period tracker on my phone, which is in my car. Can you take me home?” I have a migraine, I’m nauseas, and I could possibly be pregnant. What a wonderful fucking morning!
“Of course, did you want to buy it now or wait?” I think about this: Buy it now and risk the chance of a roommate finding it, but if I do miss my period I’d have it on hand. Don’t buy it, miss my period and freak out, drive to the pharmacy, and risk them being out of stock or something that would happen only to me.
I pick up two boxes of First Response. I’ll have four tests; I want to be sure. The cashier is a fellow college student and she looks very sympathetic but doesn’t say anything as I pay and we leave.
Alex’s car is a Prius and it, like his apartment, is spotless. I give him instructions to my off-campus apartment and he follows them. When he parks in front of my building we both sit there silently.
“So, if you are pregnant, how will we know whose it is?” I wince, his voice isn’t harsh, just curious, but the question makes me sound like a whore.
“I don’t sleep around,” I snap, glaring at him, and he looks over at me startled.
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, if you are pregnant, could it be his?” I stop glaring and tear up a bit.
“No, I haven’t slept with Jackson since before my last period. In hindsight, that seems to be a sign that he was cheating on me.” I frown. This is going to be awkward. “Um, should I get checked for any STD’s?” Now he looks offended.
“I don’t sleep around either,” it’s his turn to narrow his eyes at me.
“That’s not what I meant,” I give a small grimace. “Jackson and, wait what’s Blondie’s name?” He laughs.
“Blondie? That is so unoriginal! Her name is Amber.”
“Well, I could call her sugar tits if you’d prefer that?” He laughs, but doesn’t stop this time, he seems to find that hilarious and after a moment of thought, I laugh, too. So there we are, both laughing hysterically at a really stupid nickname in his car, anyone who looks at us might be worried.
“Sugar tits? Where on earth did that come from?” He’s gasping for breath and, to be honest, I am too.
“Her shirt was very low and her voice is like sugar, sweet and cute and-” I cut myself off. I hate him. I hate him so much it isn’t even funny. “Anyways, Jackson apparently isn’t faithful, so I’m thinking if you’ve had sex with her recently, and he wasn’t faithful to her then we could all have trichamoniasis.” He stares at me.
“That is a valid point, however, I don’t think he’d have the time to get around with three girls,” I sigh.
“I hope you’re right. I don’t want to be pregnant and have AIDS,” I look out the window at my building, it’s not a dorm, but the majority of the occupants are college students from NYU; contrary to popular belief, we don’t have raging parties. There are people rushing up and down the sidewalk and the traffic is loud and blaring.
“I thought you were worried about trichomaniasis?” He’s joking, but I don’t laugh. I get out and walk over to my car which is in its rightful spot. I drive a black Volvo, like the one Edward Cullen drives in Eclipse.
“Nice ride. Where do you work? I think I want to apply,” I didn’t know Alex followed me, but I look at him, unamused.
“I work at a preschool, and it’s technically property of Governor Peter Armstrong, it’s under his name, but I drive it,” Alex looks skeptical.
“Did you steal a political figure’s car?” I laugh.
“No, my mom gave it to me,” I honestly love the car, just not the circumstances in which I have it.
“Your mom stole a political figure’s Volvo?” I look at him incredulously.
“No, Alex, my dad is the political figure. His money bought the car, he just doesn’t know it,” I think back on that, curious, “Well actually he might, but it’s not like he can do anything about it.” Alex stares at me in horror, like he is debating calling the cops.
“Your mom stole money from your dad?” I throw my hands up in exasperation; he pauses like he realizes how odd he sounds. “Right, never mind, why didn’t you just say your parents bought it for you?”
“Because my mom bought the car for me with daddy dearest’s money,” I say and he still looks confused. “My father disowned me, my mom, however, did not and after their divorce she got half of the property and his money, so she bought me a car as a graduation gift,” I explain reaching into the car and opening the middle console to grab my phone. “We have more important things to worry about,” I open my period tracker, ignoring the 31 missed calls, 16 voicemails, and 52 texts.
“Right,” he leans against the back drivers’ side door as I wait for the app to load.
“Well, let’s hope luck is on our side, because I am ovulating and my period is two weeks away,” I refrain from cursing; the next two weeks will be Hell.
“Is there any way to know before then?” Alex looks frustrated.
“I don’t know! I’m only 21; I wasn’t planning on children for at least 3 more years!” He runs a hand down his face.
“I’m sorry. Okay, so we wait two weeks and if you are pregnant, I swear, we will figure this out together. Right now there isn’t really anything either of us can do except wait,” I nod and open up my contacts, tapping the little plus button.
“Can you put your number in my phone, please?” He takes the iPhone and punches in a number then hands my phone back to me. I look at the contact name and laugh, startled.
“Really? Baby Daddy? That is not funny,” he grins at me.
“No, it is,” he says earnestly, I shake my head and go back to his car, grab my purse and the bag with the tests in it and we start to walk inside the building. We have to take one flight of stairs to get to my apartment and when we get to my door I pause outside.
“Well, Alex, um, thanks for not letting me wander around New York drunk and hysterical,” I grab my keys from my purse and unlock my door.
“Any time, Natalia. I’ll see you later,” He walks away and I open my door to go inside.
“Oh, my God! Nat! Where the Hell have you been?!” There are people everywhere. Avery, Cassie, Sara, two police officers, my child development professor, and my mom! I stand in the doorway and just stare. “And whose clothes are those?”