Page 16 of In The Game

“Dude, don’t call us bunnies.” She smiles, but I can tell the word is triggering. “You guys are bigger sluts than we are.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that. Sorry. Can I buy you a drink as an apology?”

Now I’m bummed and a jerk.

She stands. “Gonna pass. But have a good night, Conway.”

“You too.”

Welp. So much for that. Time to call it a night. Every time I hit a dead end, it puts a damper on my attitude. I don’t even know why I come out anymore.How does a woman up and disappear like that?

FIVE

The Dust Bowl from the 1930s doesn’t have shit on my vagina. It’s literally been six weeks since I’ve had sex. Physically, it’s been frustrating. My sex drive was a well-oiled machine and has been having a hell of a time going cold turkey. It’s like Death Valley down there. Emotionally, the loneliness has set in and made itself at home. The withdrawal from the warm fuzzies sucks.

I’m lying on my bed, studying for my stats final, with my phone flipped upside down to avoid distractions, but it’s been blowing up with messages from the girls at work trying to get me to go out. The latest one from Martha. We’ve worked a lot of the same gigs over the years.

Martha: Girl! Where the fuck are you? I need my wing-woman. There are hot guys EVERYWHERE!!! How come you didn’t take the Lakes Hockey gig? I thought for sure you would be here tonight.

I’m done with hockey players. I’ll watch the games, but I’m over sleeping with them. After Barrett, I realized all I’m doing is torturing myself, and I can’t keep doing that.

Me: Get an extra one for me. ??

Martha: Get him yourself! Come out with us, I’ll sneak you in.

Me: I gotta study. Besides, I’m not feeling great.

I’m finishing my last classes, then I can graduate. I partied a little hard and didn’t finish in the spring, so I’m wrapping up my last six credits this summer. They say if you want love, you must love yourself first, so here I am, nurturing my brain like I do my body.

Stepping away from the party scene has been... sobering, for lack of a better word. I can't believe how much time has passed. It feels like it was yesterday I was moving to Minnesota, and I’m already graduating. Well, it doesn’t help that this last year has been a whirlwind of athletes and nightclubs.What the fuck?

It took my last one-night stand to give me that wake-up call. And now that I’m up, it’s time to pay the piper.Focus, Raleigh. Sex bad, statistics good.You need to nail my hypothesis testing for the final.

Martha: Maybe you’re pregnant.

Martha: Oh wait! You’d have to have sex to be pregnant... ??

Me: Ha. Enjoy your venereal disease.

She’s right, there’s no way I could be pregnant. The only thing that goes down there these days are vibrators and… tampons.Wait, when was the last time I used a tampon?I keep saying I should get one of those calendar apps, but I’ve never needed to. It usually just shows up and I deal with it. Have I gotten my period since I fucked Barrett? I’m sure I had one, it was light, but it was something.Not enough to use a tampon though.

I shuffle back until my back hits the headboard, and tuck my knees up to my chin.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That’s impossible. I couldn’t be. I’m on the pill. And I haven’t missed a day—have I? I don’t remember!

Besides, the only time I’m sick is at night. I’d have to be nauseous in the morning to be pregnant, isn’t that why it’s called morning sickness? I’m only sick because I’m exhausted. I’ve been working all day and then staying up late studying. I’m running myself ragged and now I’ve become paranoid.

I fix my pillows, then relax a little before pulling my laptop and paper closer and opening my textbook again. Okay,statistics. I need to write out some example stats, the first one that comes to mind is the likelihood of there being a baby inside my uterus.

I could go to the store and pick up a couple pregnancy tests for peace of mind, and that way I’ll be able to focus on my studying again and not be distracted. I can’t be pregnant, I’m on the pill.

* * *

At the drugstore, I pick up some Diet Sprite and Saltines. Maybe I should take a break from studying for the rest of the night, clearly, my body is burned out. I’m so tired. When I stand in front of the wall of pregnancy tests, my eyes don’t know where to look. There’s so many options. Some are digital, some can tell six days before your period, another one says it gives results three ways—isn’t it yes or no?

This one says triple check and has three types of pregnancy tests, but I’m sure they all require me to pee on them. I choose the three-types option because I’m curious what other ways there are. My hands shake as I place the box in my basket. I’ve never had to do this before.

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