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“Sorry,” I say just as she does.
Heat floods my face. I ought to have been able to at least go with the kiss. She’s cute, after all. And willing. Instead, my flesh crawls. And it pisses me off. I’m infected with Anna. I want to punch a hole through the roof of my car.
Giving Shannon an unsteady laugh, I step farther away, my ass hitting the car door. “I’m ah—” completely fucked “—tired.”
“Yeah...” Her wrong-shaped mouth twists in a half smile. “You said that.”
“Right.” God, just get me out of here.
But before I can make an escape, she talks again, her tone strangely neutral. “Is it because of her?”
I jerk so hard that my elbow hits the car window. “Her?”
Shannon blinks back at me. “You know, the redhead in the bar.” So much for me being subtle. “Is she the one you had that blowout with? Is she Red Hen?”
“Red Hen?” I repeat, my head buzzing. What. The. Hell?
She gives me a look designed to reassure, though I’m far from it. But there’s a gleam in her eyes like she’s dying for gossip. Does she honestly think I want to talk about Anna with her?
And, again: Red Hen? Oh, hell no.
“You know,” she says. “The one that they’re talking about on TikTok and Instagram.”
An ugly, sick feeling trickles over my shoulders. For a moment I can only stare at this girl as the buzzing in my ears grows louder. “What the hell are they saying?”
Oblivious of my growing anger, she answers eagerly. “That you dumped some redhead in the middle of the quad.”
That day haunts me still. Hearing someone else talk about it hurts my chest.
“Why are they calling her Red Hen?” I sound like I’m talking through a long tunnel. Does Anna know this? She’d hate that. Hate it.
“I don’t know who came up with that.”
“What does it mean?” My heart is thudding so hard it hurts. As a rule, I stay far away from social media. Obviously, the guys were keeping something from me, because they’d usually tell me about any nonsense.
Shannon shifts from one foot to the other. “I guess it’s because she tried to trap you into a relationship. You know, by getting pregnant.”
The ground seems to sway beneath me, and a cold sweat breaks over my skin. Holy shit. Is Anna pregnant? She didn’t look... Hell, what does early pregnancy even look like? But she would have told me tonight, wouldn’t she? Then again, I’d pretty much gone on the offensive with her, which didn’t exactly make for an easy opening to a topic like that. Holy fucking shit, but if she is...
I’m going to hurl. Right here on Shannon’s sidewalk. Yet behind the instant terror is a strange sort of elation. If Anna is pregnant, I’m going to her and am sticking. Screw pride.
Somehow, I find the ability to talk. It’s a miracle that I can form a sentence. “Why do people think she’s pregnant?”
Maybe Shannon finally notices that I’m about to lose my shit because she clamps up.
“Why!” My shout rings out in the night.
Shannon visibly swallows, her eyes growing round. “Well, in the videos, you, ah... yell at her about your relationship being just a hook up, and, well, she walks away all hunched over, clutching her stomach, so...”
So, no proof of Anna being pregnant. Just fools jumping to the wrong conclusion and sticking their noses in places they have no business being. Even though relief swamps me, the ringing in my ears grows to a clamor. “So, you all think that I would get a girl pregnant, then publicly dump her when she tells me?”
“Ah...well...”
“And believing this, you still wanted to go out with me?”
Okay, I might be yelling. Shit, it’s a miracle that I’m not shouting to the clouds at this point. That’s what people think of me?
Shannon backs away a step. “I didn’t blame you.” As if this supposed pregnancy was all Anna’s doing.
