Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“But if you’re not pregnant? Then I went to all this trouble for nothing.”
“All this trouble? It’s, like, not even a five-minute drive.”
“I’m still going out of my way. I have a meet at school in an hour. I was about to get ready when you knocked on the door.”
“So can’t you get it after the meet? Hayes, come on. Please, stop fucking around. I need this. It’s the least you can do. You’re the one who wasn’t careful.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Finally, I’m desperate enough to make a last-ditch effort. “I’ll leave you alone from now on. I won’t bother you. I’ll stay out of your way.”
He arches an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”
“I’ll ask permission before I go out to a party or anywhere I know you might be. I swear. I’ll do that, so long as you do this for me. This is my whole life we’re talking about. Please.”
“I’ll see if the pharmacy is open by the time I have a chance to go.” I let out a choked sob, but he ignores it in favor of pushing me out of the room. “I’ve gotta get ready. Don’t make me late for the meet.”
I can’t believe he would be this way. Doesn’t he see how important this is? God, if I end up pregnant, what am I going to do? I don’t even want to let my brain go that far down the road. All I can do is pray Hayes does the right thing.
Yes, because he’s so good at doing the right thing.
It’s hours before he comes home. Hours I spend wondering if I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. Salem keeps texting me, and I don’t even have it in me to care. Everything, all my concentration, all my fear, everything I have is focused on this. What I need.
Otherwise, my life could become so much more complicated than it already is. I’d have to wait until I’m eighteen if I need to get an abortion, which would mean waiting three months. Would I even have enough time to get one by then, or would it be too late? God, I can’t handle this. I’m going to crack.
It’s almost dinnertime when I hear Lucy call out downstairs. “Hayes! Where have you been? I wanted to play.”
I run for my bedroom door and open it in time to hear his reply. “Sorry. I had stuff to do. Maybe we can hang out after dinner. Play a board game or something?”
How can he sound so calm and casual? Right, because his life doesn’t have to be affected. He still thinks this is a big joke.
I’m about to run downstairs and demand he tell me where he’s been and why he had to take so long getting back, but I find him halfway up the stairs by the time I reach the landing. He pauses when he sees me, then goes from jogging to meandering.
“Well?” I whisper, chewing my lip. “Did you get it?”
“Get what?” He stops, frowning. “What was I supposed to get?”
“You better hope you’re joking.” I can’t imagine why he would be, but I shouldn’t be surprised at his twisted sense of humor.
“Jesus. Here.” He opens the gym bag slung over his shoulder and pulls out a bag from the pharmacy, which he almost throws at me in passing.
“Thank you.” I clutch it to me like it’s some rare treasure.
“Whatever. Enjoy the side effects.” He’s in his room, slamming the door shut before I can ask what he’s talking about. Why would he know about side effects? Unless he looked it up.
Or this isn’t the first time he’s had experience with this.
Right now, I don’t care. I’m too relieved to give any thought to why he would begrudge me this, something we both need whether or not he thinks so.
I take the box to my bathroom and pop the pill before chasing it with a glass of water. My eyes close and I offer a silent prayer of thanks to whoever or whatever is watching over me. I feel like my life has been handed back to me.
Though I know now, for sure, that this is the end of my physical relationship with Hayes. I’m never putting myself through this torture again.
28
Hayes was right about side effects. I have them. A lot.
I can barely pry my eyes open Monday morning, the day after taking the pill. The nausea didn’t hit until after midnight. Even then, I fought like hell not to throw up. I didn’t want to throw the pill up along with everything I ate for dinner. Eventually, I couldn’t hold it back anymore and spent a good part of the night on the bathroom floor between long periods of dry heaving. I finally dragged myself back to bed at dawn.
I’m still pretty sure the pill did what it’s supposed to do. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I read the insert that came along with the medication. As long as it was in my system for two hours or more, I should be okay, and it was way longer than that before I got sick.