Page 29 of Interception

Oh shit. I smooth down my hair and scramble to find my purse. Hunter is right. When I open my compact, my makeup looks like I took styling tips from the Joker. “Sorry, Hunter. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Coop reaches over and tucks a stray tendril of hair behind my ear. “I think you look your most beautiful when you’re disheveled.” He caresses his thumb over my bottom lip, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core before Hunter grabs his arm and yanks him out of the car. I can hear him berating Coop as he pulls him in the direction of the photographer.

“Can’t you keep it in your pants for a day?” Hunter says in an irate tone.

“Afraid not, bro. Have you seen my girlfriend? She’s fucking hot. I couldn’t help myself.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed to call her your girlfriend.”

“Fuck off, Vaughn. That’s a low blow. Just because it’s your wedding day doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass.”

“Sorry, bro. I’m fucking stressed. It’s tense with Coach being here. I’m happy for Faith’s sake, but he’s seriously giving me death stares every time I look at him. I’m relying on you to be my buffer. He still likes you.”

“Of course, he does. I’m epic, and I haven’t fucked his daughter.”

When they’re out of earshot, I set about fixing my makeup. The reflection staring back at me is disconcerting. I have kiss-swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and my hair is a riot. Hunter’s words play over in my head. Why can’t I let myself lean into what Coop and I have together? Faith jumped in with two feet and got everything she’s ever wanted and more.

I thought hooking up with the Titan’s hottest bachelor would be a great way to pass a weekend. I never thought it could be more, and now I’m scared that I got way more than I bargained for.

Once I fix my makeup, I paint on a cool, calm, and collected smile, ready to celebrate my best friend getting her happily ever after.

The drinks flow, and I dance the night away with Coop, every twist of his hips a dark promise of a hot and heavy weekend in bed. I could get used to the sight of him in a tux. I thought he was hot in his football gear, but hands down, he’s the sexiest man alive in a suit. Anyone I date after him is going to be a crushing disappointment. I guess that’s the price you pay for hooking up with a football god.

I’m so screwed—literally and figurative.

Chapter Eight

Zee

No. No. No. No. No!

This can’t be happening to me. This was supposed to be easy breezy. I’ve been telling Coop for months that I don’t want to be tied down, that it’s just not in my DNA. Maybe I should’ve spent less time discussing my DNA and instead focused on not mixing mine with his. Shit.

I’m like a finely tuned clock—I’m never late. Since the day I got my first period and ran around the school telling anyone who would listen that I was bleeding to death, I’ve been able to count my cycle with expert precision. I mark my calendar at the beginning of the year, and I have never once been wrong.

I really need to be proven wrong right now.

I’m ten days late. The fact that I didn’t even notice until today is proof that I’m in over my head with Coop. I don’t mess up. I don’t forget things. Sure, I’ve given some love without a glove over the years, but I’m meticulous about my birth control. I haven’t missed a pill. Sure, I occasionally take it late in the day, but I haven’t missed a day altogether. There’s no way that I’m the tiny percentile—I hope.

The drugstore clerk gave me an excited grin when I bought three pregnancy tests. She wasn’t reading the room—I thought I was going to puke. Of course, that could be morning sickness. I’m praying that it was just a gut reaction to the horrifying thought of being pregnant. I can’t be. I just can’t.

I read the instructions five times before deciding that I need to wait until first thing in the morning to take the test. It says in the early stages, it’s more accurate at that time. Like pregnancy is building up in your pee while you sleep. Gross. Oh, the irony—like I’ll get a wink of sleep tonight.

Coop is supposed to be coming over after practice, but I wouldn’t be able to hide my anxiety from him even for one night, so I fire off a quick text. I feel bad, but I’m not technically lying to him.

Me: Need to cancel tonight. I have an upset stomach.

Coop: I can come take care of you if you want? It doesn’t have to be about sex all the time.

Me: Thanks, but we are most definitely not in the relationship phase where you see or hear me when I’m sick. Just need a good night’s sleep.

Coop: I’m sure you’re still gorgeous, even when you’re hugging the toilet.

Me: I’ll call you tomorrow.

Coop: If you need anything, give me a call. I don’t care if it’s two in the morning. Just call.

Me: Thanks.

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