Page 46 of Ghosted By Texas
“Seriously?” I asked, shocked beyond belief that Houston would give a shit about how I was doing after his brother decimated my heart.
“I’m sorry that my brother hasn’t managed to get his head out of his ass and act like the man he’s supposed to be. So, yeah, I’m serious when I say that checking on you was a priority.”
“I’ll be okay,” I managed to say before I turned my head to stare out the window. Tears threatened to fall again, and I didn’t want to openly sob with him on the line.
“I know you will be,” he agreed. It was a lie. I lied and he knew it and was lying to me, too. “Will you be staying with Becs the rest of the night, Clea?” He asked.
“I think that’s for the best, handsome.”
“If you need anything, I will be happy to play delivery driver and then leave you both to it. From what I hear, you didn’t even get to eat your popcorn at the movies. How about I bring some by, with some ice cream, and…”
“How are you so perfect?” Clea’s sweet question cut off Houston’s offer and made me want to vomit again. Just a few days ago, I’d thought the same about Austin when he’d taken me to the Van Gough exhibit. If only I’d known then that he was about to ruin the artist for me, for all time.
“…help,” Houston said, though I hadn’t caught the rest of what he’d told Clea. It didn’t matter anyway. Someone laughed in the background and Houston added, “You forget, I have sisters. I know what they needed when they felt the same way.”
“We’ll be at my place in case someone tries to find Becs at hers,” Clea proclaimed, which was unwelcome news to me. “And thank you for being amazing.” She hung up then and I settled back for the rest of the ride, not even bothering to disagree about our destination because I didn’t think it would matter.
April was three days away. School let out for summer in two months, and the countdown had already begun. There was no way I’d be able to sit around and do nothing for the summer. There were a couple of summer camps in the area for kids, but the positions for arts and crafts director didn’t exactly pay well. Still, it was something to do to pass the time, so I’d applied and started working on some cool week-and month-long plans for each, just in case I managed to snag one of the positions.
If I had unlimited funds, I would have already booked one of those huts over the water in Fiji for the summer. Even a week to get away from everyone and everything would be nice. Since I’d helped my parents out for the majority of the year, my savings had completely depleted so even a trip to the lake for a week was out of the question, never mind some exotic giveaway where I could watch the fish swim underneath my floor.
My phone pinged as I got home from work.
Clea: Can you come over?
I glanced at my couch longingly, but knew I’d spent far too much time there over the past three or so weeks. My heart tripped over itself at the thought. Three weeks post my last date with Austin didn’t feel much better than three days. My only saving grace was that there had been no more accidental run-ins with him or the bitch he was with.
Becs: You need me now? I can bring food, too.
Clea: No food. Just hurry over, if you can.
Well, that didn’t sound great. I didn’t even bother to change out of my paint-stained t-shirt and instead took off immediately to Clea’s place. My early, post-work dinner so I could be in bed by eight could wait. Yeah, I was that person with absolutely no life, so bedtime started to come earlier and earlier for me. I figured once the depression went away, I’d have more energy anyway.
When I got to Clea’s place, the first thing I noticed was her frantic pacing and wringing of her hands. She was worried about something, and I couldn’t tell if she had bad news to pass along or if the worry was her own. What if she told me that Jordan and Austin had run off to get married? How in the hell would I handle not falling apart in front of her? No, I didn’t think that was it, especially when I glanced at her counter and saw what looked like twenty different boxes of…
“I thought you got your period already, and you guys were in the clear about the broken condom thing?”
“Becs!” Clea whined to me. “I only spotted for like two days. That’s not normal for me. What if I was wrong and I really am pregnant?”
I wanted to laugh because she looked adorable all panicked the way she was. Not that I found it funny that she was clearly going over the edge, but Clea never lost her cool, so it was amusing to see the role reversal.
“Okay, but you haven’t had any symptoms, other than one light period.”
“So?”
“So?” I teased the way she sounded with her one-word question. “Why all the tests?”
“I’m nervous. What if I’m one of those women who just never knows she’s pregnant and then the next thing you know, I’m walking down the snack food aisle in the grocery store,” she glanced up at me with a knowing look, “to satisfy my cravings, and bam! It looks like I’m pissing myself, except my water just broke.”
I chuckled at the mental image my bestie painted. “You have such a good imagination that maybe you should think about writing books instead of doing marketing for authors.”
“You’re an asshole. It could happen.”
“Prom babies happen because those girls are in denial. You might be sort of stacked in the boob and butt department, but I think you’d notice if your tiny waist started expanding enough to fit a whole baby.”
“I just want to be sure,” she pleaded with me, as if I was some sort of pregnancy crystal ball there to tell her what twenty tests couldn’t.
“Fine.” I grabbed a test out of the pile and headed to the bathroom. “Since we’re stupidly taking pregnancy tests for no good reason, I’ll take one with you. Solidarity my bestie!”