Page 44 of One Timer With A Wingman

“It sounds like you’re really enjoying this fake dating thing,” I say to her as I eat noodles.

“I’m crushing on him hard. I always pictured the hockey guys to be these asshole jocks, but Cade is the sweetest guy on earth,” she swoons.

I may know something about a swoony hockey player.

I should confide in Annie, but if I tell her I’m pregnant then it will be real.

“So maybe you should be dating him for real,” I suggest.

“Nah, I have no time to really date and it’s the last thing Cade wants. We’re in a mutually beneficial relationship, that’s all.”

“One that should include orgasms,” I suggest, which is a mistake.

“Speaking of which, I want to hear more about this mystery guy from your trip.” Yup, I’m in trouble now. Annie is one of my best friends. I don’t want to lie to her.

“He’s hot as hell. He’s a junior too. We just had fun together. It was my first vacation, and the Caribbean was so beautiful. It felt like paradise. We watched a sunrise together. The whole group spent all their time together. I windsurfed and went clubbing. We rented these crazy off-road buggy things, and it was so muddy and ridiculous. We swam in an underground cave. I did things I would have never dreamed of. It was fun and now I’m back to reality,” I say. My reality is now a lot scarier because I will be responsible for a baby in nine months…

“That sounds like a dream, Briar. I’m so happy for you,” Annie chirps.

“Thanks. I did make memories I’ll never forget.” Eventually, I will have to come clean to my friends, but it seems only right that Aaron should be the first to know. I let out a big yawn.

“You must be exhausted from travelling this weekend. I’ll let you go but be in touch. We should meet up for lunch,” she suggests.

“Sounds good. I am tired. I need sleep.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

We end the call. I fall asleep so fast I barely blinked. Luckily my phone is set to the same alarm every morning. I wake with the same queasy feeling. I have been reading that carbs can help with the nausea. At this point, I shouldn’t care about my weight. I’ll have to quit the gymnastics team. I am going to have this baby, if Aaron wants to be in his or her life it is up to him. I feel like my mind is made up. I just can’t say I’m pregnant out loud, and the thought of having this baby terrifies me. What if I can’t feed us? I start to cry and I get dressed with blurry eyes. I have to get a hold of myself when I get in the car because I have to see where I am driving. That’s when I remember Mom’s message from last night. She is coming to pick up my car in a few weeks.

By the time I make it to the gym, my face is red and blotchy. I just couldn’t care less. After parking my car in the lot, I go straight to Coach Ludmila’s office. Her door is open a crack. I knock lightly to announce my arrival.

“Briar,” she says my name on an exhale. “Come in, have a seat.”

I still have my puffer coat on. It feels like a bubble protecting me until Ludmila’s concerned blue eyes watch me with sympathy I don’t want to see. There is no malice in her gaze but it feels like she knows what is going on.

“You’re pregnant.” Her words cause a well to burst inside me and I break down. She stands from her desk and comes around to me. She puts her arms around me and tells me it is going to be okay. I sob in her arms. I don’t know how much time passes for me to get my shit together long enough to say. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to be okay,” she says surprisingly.

“I’m going to lose my scholarship,” I state.

“You’ll ask the NCAA to give you a year off. You will lose the scholarship for that year, but you can apply for financial aid. When you have the baby, you can come back,” she assures.

“I may not be the same. I won’t make it to the Olympics.”

“Maybe not,” she says. She is honest. This much I knew. She sighs. “I was once in your position,” she confesses, and my eyes round as I look up to her. “I didn’t make it to the Olympics, but I’ve had a good career training athletes who have made it.”

The office falls silent. I am processing her words. My life as I knew it is changing. I have to accept those changes and roll with the punches. It’s what I have been doing for a long while now.

“Does the father know?” she asks next.

I shake my head.

“You need to tell him. It’s his responsibility too,” she insists.

“We aren’t together. It was a vacation fling. My expectations are low,” I state sadly. It is better to hope for the worst because it makes disappointment hurt less.

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