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“Just his dick, apparently.” I hear the repressed laughter in Jane’s voice.
I groan. “It was a lapse in judgment.”
“Was it good? I bet it was good.”
“I’m not discussing my child’s conception with you.”
Jane shifts so she can rest a hand on my cheek. “You’re blushing. It was hot, filthy sex, wasn’t it?”
Yes.
She giggles. “Did he talk you through it?”
Yes.
“I’m going to sleep.”
“Nuh-uh. Not yet. Have you told him?”
“Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “I told him.”
Jane nudges my arm with the sharp point of her elbow. “And?”
“Ow. Stay on your side.”
“What did he say, Linny?” she asks softly.
I sigh. “Not much. He was … shocked.”
Which I get. I have regular flashes of,Is thisreallyhappening?
The only evidence of this pregnancy so far are the positive tests still sitting next to my bathroom sink and the prenatal vitamins on the kitchen counter. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget my life is about to change forever, and when I remember, I’m surprised all over again.
ButKitisn’t the one who has to grow a human. He isn’t the one who has to give birth. I feel entitled to a little more freaking out than him.
“I can’t really picture that,” Jane muses.
“Well, you met him once when you were twelve, Janey. He’s changed.”
I thought he had at least.
“I’ll get to meet him again,” she tells me.
“Maybe,” I whisper.
Based on his reaction earlier, probably not.
19
Collins is pregnant.
I’m having a kid.
I used to think about normal shit when I ran. School, now work. Upcoming parties or trips. Sports scores.
Now, as I run, those two sentences cycle on an endless loop in my head.
I haven’t told anyone. I just tell myself, over and over again, like a motivational mantra. A motivational mantra that makes mewant to vomit.