Page 10 of Forever My Boy

“Liam would want you to have fun.”

“It’s just . . . he’s all alone, Katelyn.”

She looks toward Mason, who has stopped halfway down the path. I’m not sure if he can hear us or not, but if he does, I hope it hurts him to hear the things it hurts me to say.

“How about this,” Katelyn says. “We’ll go for a little bit, and then we’ll come back to our room. If things were different for Mason and Liam, we’d be doing this regardless.” She squeezes my hand. “This was our plan, remember? We were going to go toschool together and have fun. We were going to live and have an amazing college experience.”

“But—”

Katelyn steps forward, closing the gap between us. “I know Mason messed it up, and I know you’re angry with him. He gets it, but he’s trying, Josie. His dreams aren’t the same as Liam’s, and that should be respected. Mason’s sorry for what he did, and if he could change it, he would . . .” she pauses. “But he won’t change his mind. This is where he wants to be, at this school with me. With us.”

Tears fall down my cheeks. Deep down, I know Katelyn’s right. After a bit, I nod and let her drag me to the party, telling myself I’m not going to have a good time and will only stay for a little bit because I don’t want to miss Liam’s phone call.

chapter 5

. . .

It’s another Saturday with Liam not playing. The on-air reporters keep saying, week after week, it’s because Liam’s a freshman and soon the coach will come to his senses. The soon part needs to happen now because I want to see my boyfriend on TV. It would be one thing if he played the entire game—I’d be okay looking away once in a while—but as it is with him on the sidelines, I have to stay focused on the screen just so I can catch a glimpse when the cameras pan to him.

Tomorrow, he’ll call, and I’ll hear how sad he is. He tries to hide it, but his voice tells another story. Every time we’re on the phone I want to tell him I’m on my way—that I’m dropping out of school and moving to Texas—but I can’t find the words. I think the reason is I fear he’ll tell me stay where I am, and then my mind will wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want me there or if it’s because he doesn’t want to interrupt my college experience.

Christmas can’t get here fast enough. With the Longhorns record, there’s no way they’re going to a bowl game even if they give the team over to Liam. He’s good, but he’s not a magician and that’s what they need right now. This means Liam and I will have a nice long vacation together. It would be nice togo somewhere tropical. To spend our days lying on the beach someplace where no one could bother us.

Someday.

When the game’s over, the other guys in the rec room cheer because they no longer have to fight me for the TV. That’s another thing I don’t like about college, no TV. Each room should have cable so we can watch whatever we want instead of having to fight others for the remote. Longhorn football is the only thing I watch so I figure the rest of the people in the building can suck it up for three hours on Saturdays during football season. Besides, most of them should go and support our own team and not worry about being the rec room billiards champion.

When I get to my room there’s a note from Katelyn on the white board:At the game, which I already knew. She hasn’t missed one and the only time I do, is when Liam plays first. I haven’t missed one of his either.

I pick up the phone and dial his number, knowing he won’t answer. After four rings, his voicemail picks up. “Hey, babe. I love you,” I tell him and then hang up. He doesn’t need to hear me remind him that he’s the best. He knows he is. The coach will come around soon. He has to.

Reaching over, I grab my calendar to see what time Liam plays next week. As I look at the dates, I realize my period should’ve started by now and by now, I mean eight weeks ago. I don’t know how I didn’t notice . . .because you’re not with Liam every day.

“Holy fuck,” I say as I sit up and look back at the previous month. Each month is like clockwork. Me marking the day my period started, combined with the days Liam and I had sex. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the gap in my calendar. It’s simple. I forgot to write down my last period. It happens. I’m under a lot of stress with school starting and missing Liam, ofcourse I forgot to make a note of one of the most important dates in my life.

I keep flipping, as if the circle around the right number will magically appear. I tell myself each time I don’t see said number that I’m starting to panic for nothing. Liam’s careful. He always puts a condom before he . . . except he didn’t, and he didn’t pull out as promised.

“Holy fuck,” I say again because it’s the only comprehensible statement coming to mind. There is absolutely no way in hell I’m pregnant. The one time he forgets isn’t going knock me up.

Panic sets it. It doesn’t creep or ooze its way through my body. It just full on sits on my chest right along with a red sign flashing the words “pregnant.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I start to pace. Liam is going to kill me even though this is technically his fault. If he had pulled out, I wouldn’t be dragging my hands through my hair right now while biting my lip lower, thinking the pain is somehow going to overtake my mind and I’ll forget about my period being late.

It doesn’t work.

I pick up the phone to call Liam, he’ll know what to do. I start dialing his number and then stop. What’s he going to do from Texas?

The only way to know for sure is to take a test. I can’t continue to speculate or assume without proof. Grabbing my purse off my bed, I sling it over my head and shoulder and rush out the door. If I hurry, I can catch the bus to Allenville. There’s a store there and everyone I know is at Mason’s game right now.

As I wait for the bus, my mind tells me to touch my stomach. As if my hand can feel whether there’s a baby growing in there or not. I refuse because doing so makes me feel like I’m accepting this and I’m not. I can’t be pregnant.

On the bus, I sit toward the front and lean on the side, staring out the window. It’s a twenty-minute ride to the store and it’sthe longest twenty minutes of my life. When I get off, I have to walk for a couple of blocks. My feet are heavy, my steps slow. It’s like I’m dragging an extra person behind me who doesn’t want to move.

The bell chimes when I walk in, and the clerk greets me. Instead of going right to the aisle, I meander up and down the others, looking at random shit I have zero intention to buy. When I finally come face-to-face with the selection of tests, I buy two. One for now and one for the morning. I take them and a celebrity gossip magazine to the counter.

The clerk who said hi when I came in, picks up each box and scans it. I can’t look at her. I don’t want to see the disappointment on a stranger’s face. She tells me how much and while I’m pulling money from my wallet, she puts everything in a bag for me.

“It’s going to be okay,” she tells me.

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