Page 31 of Risk

That can’t be right. I must have made a mistake. Because if this is right, then I’m three weeks late for my period. And I’m never late.

Never. Ever.

I start to feel queasy again.

I double-check the date again.

It’s there in black and white.

I’m three weeks late.

Oh, fuck no.

No.

Nope.

There is no way on God’s green earth that I could be pregnant.

There’s only one person I’ve had sex with, and that was Kaden.

And I’m on the pill, and we used a condom.

It’s not possible.

At all.

The thought itself is actually ludicrous.

I can’t be pregnant. I just can’t. It’s not possible.

I mean, it’s possible. Contraception is not a hundred percent effective. But we used two types of contraception—the pill and condom—so that would make the odds of ineffectiveness super low, right?

Right.

I wouldn’t be unlucky enough for both forms of protection to not work the one time I had sex with my older brother’s friend. The guy I’d been crushing on for years. The guy who didn’t want me.

No way I am that unlucky.

But I should probably do a test, just to be on the safe side. It’s not going to hurt anything, and it’ll get rid of the little niggle of doubt in my mind.

Okay, so I’m gonna go to the drugstore and buy a pregnancy test. Bring it home and pee on the stick.

I’m ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that it’ll come back negative.

And then I’ll have a good laugh about how crazy this moment was where I thought I was possibly pregnant with my brother’s best friend and the man who left me alone in bed and ghosted me.

But in the unlikely zero-point-one percent chance that it comes back positive, then I’m allowed to freak out.

But like I said, I’m not that unlucky.

ELEVEN

Spoiler alert: I am that unlucky.

So, I’d say it’s okay for me to freak out now.

“Fuuuck!” I cry. “Fucking fuck! Fuck! No!” I slump down on the toilet seat. “I can’t be pregnant! I mean, I can be. But I just can’t!” I wail.

---