AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Because what I said to Dr. Goode was true. Unless it’s an immaculate conception, there’s no chance I could be pregnant. The last time I had sex was…
I’m staring at the ceiling of my bedroom as a memory flashes through my mind.
No.
The last time I had sex was with Jax Kingston that night at the club, but that barely counts. It was nothing. Just a quickie. Just a…
I bolt upright as the panic starts to set in. I replay every moment of those short but intense five minutes. He put on a condom…didn’t he?
No matter how many times I try to remember the moment he paused to wrap up his dick, it’s not there. But the memory of his cum leaking down my leg is.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I pull up my phone and open my period tracker. I’ve really slacked on using it lately, but four months ago, when I did track my cycle, it started on the fifth. And that was two weeks ago.
My skin starts to buzz and my blood pressure rises. As reality sets in, I toss my phone down on the mattress and throw my head back on my pillow.
With tears forming in my eyes, I scream the only thing I can think of at the moment.
“Fuck!”
Six
Lucas
The house was quiet this morning when I left for campus. Isaac and I moved him into his new place last night. His room is empty of his things, all the personal touches that he embedded into that space—the mess of charging cables, discarded Gatorade bottles on the nightstand, a punk-rock Dolly Parton poster on the wall. All gone.
As I slipped on my shoes this morning, I berated myself for getting sentimental over the fact that his dirty boots were no longer by the door. Even if he was only there sporadically for days or weeks at a time.
Honestly, I need to get my shit together.
But today was the first day in nearly a decade when I had to accept that he’s not coming back. There is no longer a physical space carved out for my brother in my home.
When I reach campus, I walk to my first class with a strange sense of anticipation. I wouldn’t call it excitement or dread, but something in the middle. Because today is Friday, which means I will see Sadie Green again.
After the incident last week when she barreled into class midlecture and got sick in a trash can in front of everyone, she’s been a little off. Her sassy disposition is gone. Instead, she’s been despondent and quiet.
Every day since, she’s walked in on time, sat down in her normal seat, taken her notes, and walked out at the end. No eye contact. No sarcastic remarks. Nothing.
To make matters worse, her essay on Paradise Lost was phenomenal—probably the best in the class.
Why is this so terrible? Because I’m pretty sure it’s something I said last week that sent her into this melancholy tailspin. I berated and insulted my best student.
What kind of teacher does that?
When I arrive at the lecture hall, Sadie isn’t there. Even after the room fills up and I start class, her typical seat is empty. It grates on my nerves that she’s missing, especially since today is the day I pass back the essays I’ve graded.
Her A+ paper is sitting on my podium, and I don’t get to witness the look on her face when she sees it. It’s like I want to rub it in that I was right.
Right about what, I don’t know.
Less than halfway through the class, it’s obvious I’m too distracted, so I call it and dismiss everyone early—again.
Before the room is even empty, I look up Sadie’s phone number in the class directory. I’m calling as her professor, so I’m allowed to do this, although it does slightly feel like overstepping a professional boundary.
When she doesn’t answer, I let out a huff.
Where is she?
