Page 79 of The Game Plan
What is this? Y’all build me up with compliments to settle my nerves.
Cody: G threatened us.
Chloe: CODY!!!! He did not, Sav. Cody’s being an ass.
I laugh at my friends, missing them a little more today.
Glancing away from my phone, I notice Grant has erased the space between us. He stops when our toes touch, his arms bracketing me, my large belly in the way. A few more weeks to go.
Then, instead of a large belly, it’ll be a screaming newborn.
Another phase, another obstacle. But we’ll make it work.
Looking up, Grant’s gaze is zeroed in on me. Hunger and desire swirl in his irises, and I can feel the ache spreading between my legs. His thumb and forefinger pinch my chin, tilting my head even more.
“Have a good first day, Peach.” And then he’s kissing me and taking my breath away. His tongue licks at my seam, and I open for him as he plunges inside. I can taste the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee he’s been drinking. As he deepens the kiss, I can’t help the moan that escapes. He chuckles, never slowing his pace. If I don’t stop this kiss, we’ll end up in the bedroom, and I’ll be late on my first day.
As much as I don’t want to, I reach up, my palms finding his firm chest, and push against him. It takes him a second before he steps back, and our kiss is broken. My chest heaves as if he’s sucked the air from my lungs.
“See you tonight.”
Biting my lip, I nod.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I promise I will,” I say before stepping out the door and driving to campus.
The moment I set foot on campus, I swear every set of eyes swings in my direction. I’m probably overreacting and being self-conscious. I mean, I’m ready to pop, have a major waddle inmy step, and rumors have been spreading about me. Thanks to Tierney and her big mouth, my phone hasn’t stopped buzzing—messages from old sorority sisters and random people I used to party with, as if any of them deserve a second of my time. I’m doing the best I can to keep my nose clean while Coach Campbell waits for the AD’s decision.
I shift my backpack on my shoulder, straighten my spine, and remind myself I’m supposed to be here. This is going to be hard, but having a degree is the best thing I can do for my daughter. Even with Grant’s promise to support me, I refuse to put all my eggs in one basket. It’s not that I’m trying to be pessimistic or waiting for our marriage to fail, but I’m a realist, and I’ve seen too much shit in my twenty-one years of life.
This isn’t how I pictured finishing my degree. No one imagines themselves waddling across campus while pregnant. I used to dream of sorority events, late-night parties, and mornings fueled by too much caffeine.
Walking through the crowds of students, I give tight-lipped smiles as people pass by. The pressure builds low in my pelvis and aches with each step, but I fight through the discomfort. Braxton Hicks have been teasing me all morning as the false contractions tighten across my stomach, preparing me for what’s to come.
As another wave hits me, I inhale a deep breath through my nose while resting a hand on my belly. Exhaling slowly, I push the pain away and continue my trek. Climbing the few steps into the building, I make my way down the hall to my classroom. Familiar faces turn when I enter, offering me small smiles and waves. I nod, lowering myself carefully into a seat near the aisle in case I need to make a break for the bathroom.
Professor Hamilton stands at the podium, a slideshow displayed behind him. “Welcome back, everyone. Please take your seats, and we’ll get started.”
I flip open my laptop, the screen coming to life. While I wait for Professor Hamilton to begin, I open a tab for my school email. There’s an unopened message from my advisor, requesting a meeting with me today after my final class. Uneasiness rumbles in my stomach. It’s probably nothing, but being summoned for a last-minute meeting feels like being called to the principal’s office.
I type out a “thank you, I’ll be there” response and turn my attention to the screen for the next ninety minutes.
By the time I push open the office door on the second floor of the social work building, it’s just after three-thirty. Central Texas University has such a strong social work program that it gets its own building, which means nearly all my classes are here. The only time I leave is for food, and even then, the small cafeteria next door is closer than the Union’s dining hall.
This office space is colder than the rest of the building, causing a shiver to wrack through my body. The receptionist directs me to one of the larger meeting rooms instead of my usual advisor’s office.
Inside, my professors—Hamilton, Bowman, and Briska—sit with my advisor, Nina. Four sets of eyes turn to me, warm and inviting, easing the nervous edge I carried in.
“Hi, Savannah,” Nina greets, gesturing to the empty seat next to her. “Please, come, take a seat.”
I nod, joining them at the round table.
“We’ll try to keep this brief,” Professor Hamilton adds. “Given your situation, we wanted to sit down and give you some peace of mind for the semester.”
My eyebrows knit, unsure of what reassurance they could offer. Before the semester, I’d emailed them all about my due date. I promised I’d only miss a few days in the hospital and had childcare lined up to return quickly. Not ideal, but it was theonly way I could stick to the attendance policy and graduate this winter.
Professor Bowman, my ethics in social work professor, leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “We’ve all seen how dedicated you’ve been over the last three years. You’re a remarkable student, and we understand that your pregnancy wasn’t planned. We admire you for continuing your education and acknowledge that it’ll be challenging.”
