Heart Attack

VERONICA

~“So I’m putting my defenses up,”~

~’Cause I don’t wanna fall in love,”~

~If I ever did that, I think I’d have a heart attack…”~

~– Demi Lovato~

***

I’d been avoiding book club meetings because of Drake Adams, the redhead who seemed to have a thing for me.

But after recent events—namely, sleeping with both Jax and Kyle, two guys I’d vowed to never sleep with again—I needed a new distraction.

~Not~ the sexual kind.

So, despite Drake’s unnerving attention, I decided to attend this week’s meeting. No guy was going to hold me back from doing what I wanted.

Jane, the club’s organizer, greeted me with a warm smile and a tight hug. “Veronica! It’s so good to see you! I thought we’d lost you for good!”

I returned her smile. “Well, I’m back now.”

We all settled into a circle, ready to discuss this week’s book. Drake made his entrance late, as if he owned the place.

I ignored him, focusing instead on the book we were discussing—Pride & Prejudice, a classic I’d already read.

But Drake seemed to think my return warranted special attention.

“Welcome back, Nicky,” he said, winking at me as he took the seat next to mine.

Jane shot him a longing look from across the room, then gave me a warning one. I guess the warm welcome was over.

~Relax, Jane. I’m not interested in your crush.~

Ignoring Drake’s attempt at familiarity, I asked, “Nicky?”

He grinned, draping his arm over the back of my chair as if he owned me.

My temper flared.

“No one else calls you that,” he said, smugly. “I thought it could be our thing.”

His attention was clear now. He didn’t just want to sleep with me again.

He wanted me to notice him, to be aware of him, to fall for him.

He was dreaming.

“Don’t call me Nicky, Adams,” I said, keeping my voice cool. “Let’s keep things formal.”

He just smirked, as if he’d already won. As I said, he was dreaming.

“Well!” Jane said, a little too loudly. “Let’s start the discussion, shall we?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, shooting Drake a warning look. “Let’s.”

For the rest of the meeting, Drake didn’t flirt with me. He actually contributed some insightful thoughts about the book, and I found myself listening when he spoke.

When the meeting ended, I was surprised to find myself thinking about the deeper meanings of the story.

As I was packing up to leave, Drake stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

“I want to make a deal with you,” he said, trying to sound businesslike.

“I’m not interested in making a deal with you,” I replied, trying to sidestep him. “Maybe you should talk to someone who actually wants to spend time with you.”

Like Jane, who was glaring at me from across the room.

He followed me, his blue eyes twinkling. “Just hear me out, Nicky.”

The nickname hit a nerve. I spun around to face him, my eyes narrowed.

“I told you not to call me that,” I snapped. “Leave me alone, and we’ll all be happier.”

“I won’t be,” he said, actually pouting. “I want to get to know you better, but you won’t let me.”

“Because I don’t want to be friends with you,” I told him bluntly. I really didn’t.

He winced, a flash of hurt in his eyes. Then he grinned again, stepping into my personal space and putting his arms on my shoulders.

“I’m going to change your mind, Veronica,” he said. His voice was serious, his eyes determined. “You’ll resist me at first, but eventually, you’ll look forward to seeing me.”

Then he stepped back, turned around, and walked away, whistling a cheerful tune.

I resisted the urge to throw my bag at his head. Maybe that would knock some sense into him.

Me, chasing a guy? He was delusional. I didn’t want to chase anyone, and I didn’t want to be chased.

Why did guys find it so entertaining to mess with my head?

***

I couldn’t deal with everything that had happened on my own. I needed my best friend. Not Santana, not Amy, and definitely not one of the guys.

I needed Laura. She was my rock, my confidante. When I called her and asked to meet at our usual café, she sounded just as relieved as I was.

She was probably dealing with her own problems. Like me, Laura had a knack for making her life more complicated than it needed to be.

Laura, my best friend, was a free spirit, but she came from a home that was far from perfect. Her parents split when she was just eight, and within a year, they’d both remarried into families that were wealthier and more prominent than their own. Laura was left in the dust, receiving less and less attention until she was practically forgotten.

It seemed like neither of her parents wanted her around, like she was an inconvenience they hadn’t planned for. So, Laura turned to drugs, alcohol, and sex. It was a predictable path, really.

But her downward spiral stopped when she was sixteen. Her aunt Mila found her high and wasted in some underground S&M club in a sketchy part of town. Mila took Laura in, got her into rehab, and essentially saved her life.

But the damage was done. The scars were etched deep into Laura’s psyche. So, even though she was now in college, living in a respectable sorority house, and had a loving aunt as her guardian, she was still dealing with issues that were as vast as the country itself.

Laura and I clicked instantly and became best friends. She shared everything with me, and I did the same, for the most part. There were a few things from my past I kept to myself, but they weren’t really significant.

We met up at our usual spot, Fiddle Coffee Shop, or just Fiddle for short. The café got its name from an old, beautiful fiddle that hung on the wall.

Laura looked as stunning as ever, her blond hair flowing and her blue eyes sparkling. She was wearing baggy jeans and a blouse, pulling off the just-rolled-out-of-bed look with ease.

I, on the other hand, probably looked as disheveled as I felt: a green hoodie, sweatpants, boots, a leather jacket, and a gray beanie. In short: a mess.

Laura didn’t say anything about my appearance. She seemed distracted as we sat down at our table, which was unusual for her. Normally, she’d be all over me, asking about my latest adventures, but not today.

She seemed off, and Laura was never off.

After we ordered, I decided to get her talking.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, cutting straight to the chase.

She blinked and looked at me. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

She was avoiding the question, something she’d never done before.

“You don’t seem like yourself, Laura,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “I’m not blind, you know. Plus, I know you. Something’s definitely up.”

She grimaced. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

It stung that she was so determined to keep whatever was bothering her to herself.

“Why?” I asked, not hiding the hurt in my voice. “We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

“Do best friends meet once a month for a damn coffee?” she snapped back. “Aren’t best friends supposed to tell each other everything?”

“Okay, so it’s as much my fault as it is yours,” I said, my face hardening, “but we’re here now, so why don’t you just tell me?”

“You first!” she shot back, her face flushed with anger, and crossed her arms defiantly. “Come on, Veronica. If you want me to talk, you have to talk!”

“Fine!” I said, scowling. “I slept with Jax again, he wanted us to be fuck-buddies, I said no, and now he won’t talk to me at work or outside of it.”

“I also slept with Kyle because I wanted to see if I could still have casual sex with someone I’m not crazy about, but that was a bust because Jax has ruined me for any other guy.”

“Then there’s this guy Drake I hooked up with at Nick’s frat party, and he's joined my book club. He’s trying to make me fall for him, which is driving me nuts.”

“So, whatever your problem is, I guarantee it’s not as messed up as mine!”

“Oh really?” Laura said, her voice filled with rage. “Are you pregnant?”

Caught off guard by her sudden change in topic, I stammered out a confused, “What?”

“I asked you a fucking question,” she said, her face darkening. “Are you fucking pregnant?”

“No!” I said, shocked. “Of course not!”

“Good for you!” she said, her voice cracking as she blurted out, “Because I am!”

Oh boy. Oh dear, sweet boy.

“What?” I asked weakly, my mind spinning with worry.

“Don’t you dare pity me,” she said, her lower lip trembling.

“I… I’m not… I…” I was at a loss for words.

“See?” she said bitterly, “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. Look at your reaction. I’m eight weeks pregnant, there’s a fucking baby growing inside of me, and you look like I just kicked your puppy.”

“How do you think that makes me feel?” she scowled.

“Laura,” I said, unable to hide my sympathy, “I’m so sorry–”

“Don’t,” she cut me off with a growl, her eyes blazing. “If you finish that sentence, I’m leaving.”

I couldn’t let her leave, so I did the right thing and dialed back the sympathy. Instead, I asked, “How long have you known?”

She looked away, ashamed. “I found out last week.”

I blanched. “So, when we went to that party at your sorority house the other night…”

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to shield herself from my implications.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes, “I’m only twenty, Ver. Twenty! I can’t have a baby, especially when…when I don’t know who the father is.”

That was the problem with living a promiscuous lifestyle.

You never know when a condom might fail, or when birth control might not work, or when you might end up with an STD or a positive pregnancy test, especially after you’ve been with a number of guys.

But we chose this life, despite the risks, because not living it wasn’t an option.

So, this wasn’t the moment for a lecture on safe sex.

I held my best friend’s hand and told her, “Whatever you decide, whether you keep the baby or not, I promise I’m here for you. No matter what, I’ll always be by your side.”

She hiccupped, tears streaming down her face, and nodded.

We spent the rest of our time together talking. I shared my problems, which seemed so trivial compared to hers.

She gave me advice, which basically boiled down to: “Screw it, have sex with whoever you want, whenever you want, and ~don’t~ forget the condoms.”

Sure, Laura was pregnant now, but she still didn’t fully grasp what I was saying.

Like how Jax’s face popped into my mind whenever sex was mentioned, or how I thought about him when I was with someone else, and how those thoughts led to the best orgasms.

When it was time to leave, I hugged my best friend. “Next time you have a problem, no matter how big, come to me. Got it?”

She gave a weak chuckle. “Crystal clear, babe, and the same goes for you.”

Feeling a bit better, I went home and prepared a hot bath.

Once the water was just right, I stripped and settled into the tub, sighing contentedly. I sank deeper into the warm water.

But my relaxation was short-lived. Ten minutes into my bath, my cell phone rang. Groaning, I picked it up and saw it was my mom, which dampened my mood a bit.

I’d been avoiding our usual Friday dinners ever since I found out from Oliver that she’d been discussing my financial situation behind my back. To say I was unhappy would be an understatement.

Still, I answered the call. “Hey, Mom.”

I heard her sigh.

“Veronica,” she said, “how are you, sweetie?”

Honestly, I was a mess. But I couldn’t tell my mom that. Charlene Tanner-Bryson was a worrier, to say the least. So, I played along.

“I’m fine.”

“I know you’re upset with me,” she said, sighing again. “I’d like us to make amends. Why don’t you join us at Bernard’s next Saturday night? We’re celebrating Stephen’s birthday.”

I knew I should accept the invitation, even though part of me wanted to act childish and refuse. So, I did the mature thing. “Okay.”

“Okay?” my mom asked, unable to hide her excitement.

“Yeah Mom, okay,” I said, a small smile forming.

“Good,” she said, her happiness making my smile grow. “Then I’ll see you at Bernard’s at eight.”

“I’ll be there,” I promised.

After we hung up, I submerged myself in the hot water.

Laura was pregnant.

My mom wanted me to go to my stepfather’s birthday dinner.

Suddenly, a realization hit me.

Oliver would be at the dinner, of course. He and Jax had been friends for ages, they were practically brothers.

I’d heard Stephen talk about Jax and sing his praises many times before.

That meant Jax would likely be at the dinner too, and there would be no avoiding the elephant in the room this time.