Thirty-Four
THIRTY-FOUR
My professor drones on and on and I watch the clock as each second passes. For two days I’ve been battling a stomach bug and right now, I just need this class to be over so I can rush to the bathroom and empty out the granola bar I had before walking in here.
“You okay?” Lizzie asks from her seat beside me.
I blink, tearing my focus from the clock and turn to her. “No. My stomach is still bothering me. I must have caught something.”
She rubs my shoulder and gives me a sad look. “Maybe you should skip study group and just get some rest.”
I nod my head and go back to watching time move at the speed of molasses. I zone out and before I know it, the professor is dismissing us. I gather my laptop, shoving it in my bag, and draping it over my shoulder. Lizzie follows me out of the classroom and down through the lobby of the business school.
My head hurts and my mouth is parched. The need to drink water is heavy, but my worry that it will do anything other than make me sick is greater. We walk down through the plaza to the parking lot where Lizzie’s car waits, holding my stomach as if it will make the roil go away. When the crowd in front of us parts, I see a sleek black car with a devilishly handsome man leaning against it.
Girls pass and they give him a second, third and some a fourth look, ogling him as they go. Lizzie bumps my shoulder with hers and grins.
“I bet your stomach doesn’t feel so bad now. See ya at home.” She pats my butt, jokingly, and waves at Hendrix on the way to her car.
His blue eyes shine in the early afternoon sun, and his smirk is one that sets my body on fire. I walk towards him slowly at first and move faster with each step. When I come to stand right in front of him, it takes all my might not to accost him in front of dozens of people.
“Hey you,” I purr. “Don’t you look like every girl's Jake Ryan fantasy come to life.” My hand smooths across his chest, and his hand finds my waist.
“Who’s Jake Ryan and where can I find him so I can kick his ass?”
With a small laugh I tell him, “Jake Ryan is a fictional character from Sixteen Candles. Haven’t you ever seen that movie?”
He pushes away a wayward lock of hair from my face, and glides his finger down my cheek. “You forget that you and I had very different childhoods.”
For some reason, hearing that causes a bubble to rise up in my throat. It travels higher and pushes a tear from my eye. The others follow quickly and I press my forehead against his chest, sobbing softly.
“Hey hey hey. What’s wrong baby?” He wraps me in his arms and kisses the top of my head.
“I haven’t been feeling g-good, and my head hurts, a-and I threw up twice, and you’re he-here.” My words are a mess of garbled hiccups, and I’m surprised he can even understand me.
“Oh, my little mouse. Let me take you home. First we’ll stop to get you some medicine and a few other essentials. Then it’s bed and rest for you.” I don’t have the energy to argue and only nod my head.
He helps me into the passenger seat, buckling my seatbelt and takes my bag from me. I rest my head back on the seat, closing my eyes and breathing deep. With the close of his door and the roar of his engine, Hendrix pulls out of the parking lot and quickly grabs my hand, holding it all the way to the store and back to my house.
Luckily it is roommate free and blissfully silent. Hendrix pulls my laptop bag onto his shoulder, then grabs the bag with ginger ale, crackers and soup in one hand. We barely make it through the front door when I feel my feet fly out from under me and I’m cradled in Hendrix’s arms. Once again, I don’t protest and let him carry me to bed and pull off my shoes.
He leaves me to climb under the covers and brings me a small plate with crackers and a glass of ginger ale with a straw. Very first class nursing.
“Let’s nap. I could use one too, and then I’ll tell you about my night and morning.” He scoots in right behind me on my small bed and spoons me.
“Okay,” I whisper, a whimper clogging my throat.
My eyes fall heavy and I fade into a tormented dream.
I take small sips of my ginger ale as Hendrix explains his night with Danté and the surprising conversation he had with my parents this morning.
“It was really funny. AJ kept calling me chicken. I’m assuming, because Henny reminded her of hen.”
He leans against the headboard and has me nestled between his legs. I close my eyes as he runs his fingers through my tangled strands after he pulled it out of the ratty bun I put it in this morning.
“I’ve never liked kids much, because the ones I had to deal with growing up in foster homes were all pretty bratty. But AJ and Sloane are cool kids.”
He says kids and my stomach turns. My mind races with the day of my last period and suddenly I’m feeling dizzy. Two months. It’s been two months since my last period, putting it before crashing my car in Cattywump Bay.
My chest tightens and the urge to vomit is back. I scramble out of Hendrix’s nook and slam my glass down on the dresser on my way to the toilet. I slam open the lid just as the two crackers and the few sips make their way back. Tears fall as I wipe at my mouth and rest my head on my arms folded over the seat.
A warm hand smooths circles over my back and Hendrix kneels next to me. “I hate that you're sick. I wish there was something more I could do. How about if I call your mom and ask her what I should do?”
I turn my head to look at him and shake my head. “No. I think it might be something else.” He furrows his brow waiting for me to tell him my theory. “I think…I think I may need to take a pregnancy test.”
His body goes rigid and he falls back on his butt. His face pales at the thought I could be pregnant and now I’m even more sick.
“I didn’t have my birth control pills in Mississippi and we had a lot of unprotected sex. I haven’t had a period since,” I explain.
His eyes are distant and I see sweat begin to build on his forehead. I wait and wait for any type of response. The one I get was not one that made the list of what he may say. Because he doesn’t say anything.
Hendrix stands, his legs trembling, and holds onto the counter for support. Slowly, he spins around and walks out of the bathroom, my room and out of the house, the door slamming behind him.
My body slumps to the floor and I cry until the tears are dry and my mind is weak.