Chapter Ninety-One

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I hear Trixie sigh long and deep on the other end. And then she does it again.

Oh, boy. This can't be good.

A considerably long pause ensues, and it's obvious she's reluctant to tell me. I might have to take the lead here.

"Is it one of the athletes?" I gently prod, being careful not to push too hard and risk having her shut down on me completely. "Someone on the basketball team?"

She scoffs. "No! God, no!"

"Okay. The football team, then?" I say, continuing this slightly awkward ping-pong conversation. Maybe it'll be easier for her to tell me if we use the process of elimination.

"It's not an athlete, Roni," she says, sounding tired.

And then, like a giant bag of cement, it hits me.

Oh. My. God.

I don't even want to ask, but I have to. "Trix...is...is it Bill?"

I clutch at my chest, feeling a sudden blast of anxiety as I wait for her to respond, goosebumps crawling all over my skin at the idea that my best friend is pregnant by our other best friend and he has no idea.

"Jesus, what the fuck are you smoking, Gallo?" Trixie admonishes, sounding beyond incredulous. "Of course it's not Bill. For God's sake, I'm not that crazy. Why would you even think that?"

"Why wouldn't I think it was him?" I retort. "It's not like I don't know you've had a lady boner for him practically your entire life."

She goes silent for a moment, most likely because she knows what I'm saying is true. "Well, it's not him," she says firmly.

"Okay," I say with a nod even though she can't see me, feeling a small wave of relief wash over me. "But if it's not him, then who is it? I know you didn't just climb on top of yourself and shove a bunch of sperm in your vagina."

She actually laughs at that, and even though there's nothing funny about this situation, I'm glad I can make her feel more at ease about it.

She sighs yet again, and I'm beginning to think this has turned into the Sighing Olympics. I can't blame her though. Between her issues and mine, there are more than enough sighs to go around.

"You're gonna kill me when I tell you," she says in a defeated tone.

"I promise I won't kill you when you tell me, Trixie," I say matter-of-factly.

She snorts at the comic effect of my tone, but there's another small pause before she speaks again.

"It's Jordan," she finally admits.

And as soon as she does, I lose my shit.

"What?" I yell, even though that's the last thing I meant to do.

"Ugh, I knew you were going to freak out," she says, obviously frustrated.

I do my best to reel myself back in for her sake. "Okay, okay, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell, I just...are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure," she says, sounding even more irritated. "He's the only guy I've been having sex with—"

"Wait, what do you mean, been having?" I frown. "I thought you said it was just a one-time thing, Trixie."

"Well, turns out it was a multiple-time thing," she says defensively.

I sigh, knowing she's being guarded, and she has every right to be. But what I don't want is for her to regret telling me something so personal. So...confidential. So I try to ease up on her. "Look, I'm not pointing fingers, Trix. I'm really not, I just..."

My words trail off into more silence, but I know she doesn't need me to finish the sentence to know exactly what's going through my mind. You just got knocked up by your brother's childhood and long-time best friend. Drake is not going to take this well. This is a fucking disaster.

"Look, this is why I said you can't tell Drake," Trixie says as if reading my mind, her voice no longer laced with annoyance.

"Did you at least tell Jordan?"

"Absolutely not!" she admonishes.

"Trixie!"

"Roni, he doesn't need to know," she insists, sounding almost angry. "And what exactly do you think will happen if I tell him? Huh?" There's a small pause before she speaks again, as if she's trying to find the right words to say—or at least, the right way to say them. "Look, he may be my brother's best friend and all, but guys are guys and he and I are just fuck buddies at the end of the day. Well...were fuck buddies."

I frown. "You say it like he just thinks of you as some random ass broad. Jordan cares about you."

"I'm not gonna delude myself into thinking I mean more to him than I do, Ramona" she says adamantly. "It was just sex between us. Nothing more."

Those words cut deep and sting more than they probably should. And they sound way too familiar to my ears.

"Fine," I say reluctantly. It's her decision at the end of the day, and I have to respect it, even if I don't agree with it. "But what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she says. "At least not yet—"

Abruptly, a familiar female automated voice interjects, cutting off our conversation to let me know that I no longer have enough minutes to continue this call, and then hangs up without my consent.

"Damn it," I sigh, scratching at my head in irritation as I frown at my phone's screen.

And then irritation morphs into panic as my eyes land on the time display.

7:39 PM.

I. Am. So. Fucked.

I pick up the box of condoms laying awkwardly by my feet and make a dash for the checkout counter.

I don't have any more time to keep guessing what size he wears so I just go with the average ones. I'm clearly no expert but, I mean, they're made of latex so even if they're a little small, they can still stretch pretty well.

Right?

Ugh, whatever. I'm just going to go with it.

Thankfully, the last person in line is already finishing up when I get there. I place the condoms on the counter, feeling awkward as fuck and refusing to meet the teller's eyes. I try to play it cool, even though I feel flustered beyond belief.

"I need gas for ten bucks, please," I say. "My car's at station two."

I'm fishing through my bag for my wallet when, from the corner of my eye, I spot the refrigerated section in the back. And a brand new wave of panic hits me when my eyes land on all the beverages through the transparent glass doors. I go bug-eyed and my eyebrows shoot into my hairline.

"Oh, shit."

I just realize that I've only had two, half-liter bottles of water all day. That's only a liter combined. And Frost told me to drink three.

Ugh, fuck!

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I completely lost track of time and what I was actually supposed to do. I can't believe I forgot. I mean, I was borderline obsessive about it all week and early this morning but somehow it escaped me as the day went on and before I knew it, I was running late and rushing out of my apartment.

Oh my God, how the hell did this happen?

I've seriously been planning and obsessing over this day for an entire week, driving myself crazy by over-thinking and planning my every step, and now it's like I didn't even know today was supposed to happen. Fuck!

I sprint toward the fridges like a madwoman, almost knocking over a counter in the process. I catch the teller giving me a strange look from the corner of my eye, but I ignore him. I swing the door open, ignoring the cold draft that escapes as well. My eyes dart back and forth across the shelves frantically, looking for a big, two liter bottle of water, but I can't find one. So I go with the only option I have; the half-liter bottles. I grab bottle after bottle like they're going out of style, grumbling at how over-priced they are. This is why I hate gas stations.

I end up taking four of them, hoping they cover my "water deficit". I contemplate taking one more just in case, but I really don't want to spend money if I don't have to. Hell, I don't even know if I have enough for four bottles as it is. Screw it.

I dash back to the counter and drop the bottles next to the condoms and fish frantically through my wallet, and after a few, super frustrating seconds, I give up and basically empty my wallet on the counter. The sound of coins bouncing and spinning around haphazardly clashes with my hectic breathing.

"How much is all this with the gas?" I say, my voice strained with panic. I count all the single dollar bills and change I have frantically. I silently pray it's enough to cover everything. I wasn't planning on any of this extra stuff but I don't really have a choice.

The annoying teller certainly doesn't help matters as he takes his sweet time ringing me up, grinning particularly hard at the condoms and eyeing them knowingly. I roll my own eyes in absolute exasperation.

"Could you hurry it up, please?" I say, making no attempt to mask the sheer irritation in my voice. "I don't have all day."

That only makes him grin harder, his lips spreading into a full blown, creepy smile. "I'll bet you don't," he says, looking between me and the box of condoms now.

I seriously almost lose it right then and there, but by some miracle, I manage to stop myself from punching that stupid grin off his face. Getting arrested for assault is not something I want to add to my ever-growing list of problems.

Especially not today.

"Twenty-six, seventy-two is your total," he finally says.

My eyes dart to the blue digits displayed on the cash register.

$26.72.

I breathe the largest sigh of relief when I count twenty eight dollars at the dot. I stuff a single dollar bill in my pocket and hand him the rest.

"Keep the change," I say grudgingly. I don't want to waste any more time in this place even though I know I'm the last person on the planet who has the luxury of saying those words.

I practically snatch the plastic bag from his hand and dash out of there with my newly bought items, as random as they may seem together. Water and condoms. I gas my car up faster than I ever have in my life, and I actually catch the teller glance my way a few times through the window. I can only imagine what's going through the creep's mind, but I really can't bring myself to care or be embarrassed about it any longer. I have more pressing matters to deal with. Besides, I need to save my strength for what I'm sure will be significantly more embarrassing hours ahead.

God help me.

***

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