Page 5 of Interference
There is only one person I’ve slept with in the last three years, but our hookups are random and never consistent. Even then, when we hook up, he uses a condom. On top of that, my periods have always been sporadic.
There’s no way.
It’s been months since we last slept together.
I didn’t use a condom that night.
“No, I honestly don’t think there is a chance. I haven’t had my period in like six months at this point.”
“Will you humor me and let me run a test? I can test for that at the same time as checking for a UTI or kidney infection. I’ll also do a blood test and run a full panel to cover all of our bases.”
“Okay.”
Dr. Caldwell smiles. “I know you’re scared, but we will figure this out together.”
“Thank you.”
She leaves, and the nurse comes in.
“Here is this. The bathroom is across the hall. Just leave the cup in the little window under the mirror, and the lab tech will grab it. Once that’s done, walk around the corner, and they will draw your blood. When that’s finished, you can come back in here and wait for your results.”
“Thank you.”
My hands shake as I take the cup from her. All I want to do is curl up into a ball and pretend like this isn’t happening, but I make myself get up.
I go to the bathroom and pee in the cup, leaving it on the little metal shelf. After that I go around the corner. As the phlebotomist draws my blood, I stare at the ceiling. Just the idea of seeing blood makes me want to hurl.
Chalk that up as something new for me.
When she’s done, I head back into the room and wait for what feels like forever.
To pass the time and in an attempt to distract myself, I count the tiles on the ceiling. As I start to count the ones on the floor, there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Blowing out a breath, I rub my clammy hands up and down my thighs.
This is it. This is when she tells me I’m dying.
Dr. Caldwell sits down across from me and smiles. “I know what’s wrong with you.”
“What is it?” I choke out.
“You’re pregnant.”
Standing to the side, I stare off into the distance, not giving a fuck about what’s happening on the ice as practice happensaround me. Instead of itching to put on skates and get out on the ice with them, my mind is on her.
Emery.
I caught a glimpse of her earlier on the main rink. She was spinning in circles, likely finishing her routine. She was beautiful. Watching Emery on ice changes you. She’s like poetry in motion. Not only does she move beautifully, but she’s beautiful in her own right.
Her black hair is up in a tight bun on the top of her head. Even from this distance I can tell that her typically fair skin is flushed from the cold. I don’t need to see her blue eyes up close to know that they are filled with happiness.
She had me hooked around her finger before I even introduced myself. Then when we actually met, I fell deeper. Only she made it abundantly clear she had no interest in a relationship. That never stopped us from falling into bed with each other, though. I made it known freshman year that if she wanted orgasms, I was her guy, and she took me up on it.
At first when we started hooking up, I slept around, but during sophomore year, I stopped. She was the only one I wanted. That, and I hated the thought of maybe giving her a transmissible disease because of my transgressions.
Ever since, it’s been her and her alone. Random hookups whenever she calls or I cave and call her. Not that she knows that. She still thinks I’m my playboy self. I don’t want the status quo to change, so I let her believe it.
