Page 30 of Draft Pick

Please be tumors.

Just get it over with. The longer I stared at the box, paralyzed with fear, the longer I had to wait for an answer.

"You got this," I murmured, psyching myself up as best I could as I ripped the box and pulled the package free.

The chances were slim toalmostnone that I was pregnant as I maneuvered the stick beneath the stream to soak the tip. I peed on my hand a little, but that was the least of my worries.

I carefully replaced the cap and set my watch for three minutes—the longest three minutes of my life, but whatever. Instead of spending money on making electronic doo-dads for these tests, they ought to spend more money on making faster result times.

Danielle knocked impatiently. "Well? What's the verdict?"

I peered at my watch. "One more minute," I said.

"Good grief. I feel myself aging. This is taking forever."

"Tell me about it," I agreed sourly.

But when my watch alarm finally dinged, I froze. I couldn't bring myself to look. That window held my future. My life would change forever — or maybe it wouldn't. Because there was a chance I wasn't pregnant at all.

"It has to have been a minute by now!"

"Okay!" I yelled back, grabbing the test with shaking fingers. I stared at the result window. What did it mean? Where did the directions go? I swiveled around, searching for the insert that came in the box. I fished the box out of the trash and pulled the insert. I reread the instructions twice.

Two solid lines in the result window mean pregnant; one solid line means not pregnant.

Simple enough.

I grabbed the pen again — and promptly threw it into the bathtub with a shriek.

"Starlie?"

No. Nooo. Noooooooo!

"Starlie! I'm coming in!"

Danielle saw my look and then searched for the test, only to find it in the bathtub. She retrieved it, holding it gingerly with a quizzical expression. "What does two lines mean?"

"Take a guess."

"Um, pregnant?" She guessed.

"Yep."

I couldn't feel my toes. Was that a pregnant thing? Should that happen already? Maybe I was having a stroke.

I would welcome that scenario.

Danielle knelt beside me, patting my knee awkwardly. "Well, that sucks. So…is it too late for Plan B?"

I swung my gaze to Danielle, slowly registering. I shook my head. "It's definitely too late for that."

"What about…" she danced around the elephant in the bathroom.

I shook my head. I didn't know. I didn't know anything right now. All I knew was that Cason Alexander's super sperm had managed to sneak through that tiny window of opportunity to change a slim chance to a bulls eye, and WHAM-BAM, I was knocked up.

I swallowed. "Yeah."

I needed to talk to Darby. Danielle was great, but she wasn't my bestie, and I needed either a slap upside the head or a giant cry-fest.

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