3. Evan
3
EVAN
S omething’s going on with her, and I’m gonna find out what it is.
It’s been two weeks since I’ve spent any quality time with Abby, and it’s driving me crazy. We’ve texted a lot, as usual, but she’s been hard to pin down. The last time I saw her in person was when she had that flat tire and I gave her a ride to work. I’m assuming she’s just spending more time with that smarmy asshole she’s been dating, and I can’t pretend I don’t like it.
I’ve never approved of any of the guys she’s dated. None of them were good enough for her. And after a quick man-to-man conversation, they realized it too… and never came back. Bunch of fucking pussies, all of them.
But this guy… What kind of name is Davis anyway? There’s something about him that I can’t put my finger on, but he’s rubbed me the wrong way since the day I met his arrogant ass. With his expensive clothes, cherry-red sports car, and professionally whitened teeth. Why the fuck are his teeth so freakishly white?
Regardless of how I feel about the guy, Abby loves him. Although I have no idea why. She seems happy, and I’d never stand in the way of that. So whenever he’s around, I bite my tongue and shove down the urge to punch him in his pretty face.
I press the “popcorn” button on the microwave, then watch the plate spin around as the bag fills with the buttery snack. Abby is finally coming over for a movie night, and I have all her favorites: popcorn, nachos, and a shit-ton of candy. There’s nothing better than scary movies with my best friend and a coffee table covered in junk food.
The doorbell rings as I carry the tray of snacks to the living room. “Come in,” I shout, flipping open the ottoman and pulling out a soft fleece blanket. Her blanket. The one she uses every time she comes over.
I toss it onto the couch before turning to give her a hug. Her embrace is stiff and feels all wrong. She looks fine and she’s smiling, but her shoulders are tight and there are dark smudges beneath her eyes.
“You okay?” I know she’s going to lie to me, but I ask anyway, hoping she’ll tell me what’s going on.
“Yeah, of course. Just a little tired lately.”
Liar . I study her eyes, while she looks anywhere but at me. She doesn’t want to talk about it, so I let the subject drop for now.
“I got the movie all cued up,” I say, gesturing to the couch. “It’s that new Japanese one you wanted to see.”
“Thanks. That sounds great.” Abby kicks off her sneakers and settles into her usual spot, draping her blanket over her legs. It’s freshly washed, and she brings it to her nose to inhale the clean, citrusy scent.
I pass her the bowl of popcorn and she takes a handful while I press play on the remote. The movie starts off strong and absorbs my attention for the next fifteen minutes. When I glance over again, though, I notice she still hasn’t eaten the popcorn in her hand.
Abby’s not like most girls I know and she isn’t shy about eating. She loves food as much as I do, and she’s usually devouring our sugary, salty smorgasbord by now. Concern has me on edge when she gives me a watery smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
I return my focus to the TV screen until she bolts to her feet and runs for the bathroom. I stare for a moment, then snap out of my stupor and chase after her.
As soon as I start down the hall, I hear her retching. And by the time I reach the doorway, she’s already on her knees, spilling her guts while trying to hold back her own hair.
I move in close and gather her dark, silky tendrils into my hand as I rub soothing circles over her back. She whimpers, and it feels like a dagger in my chest. Abby hardly ever gets sick. I hate seeing her like this.
When she’s finished, I help her stand and guide her to the sink. “Hang on, Sunshine. I got you.” I grab a washcloth from the towel rack and dampen it with warm water, but she refuses to meet my eyes as she cleans herself up. “No need to be embarrassed. I remember when you peed on yourself at Melissa Mayweather’s party in the sixth grade.”
That earns me a smile—a tight one—but I’ll take it.
“You promised we’d never speak of that again,” she mutters. “And besides, it was your fault. You knew I had all that punch and you did everything you could think of to keep me laughing.” She playfully glares at my reflection in the mirror.
“C’mon. Let’s get you something to drink.” I take Abby’s hand and tug her to the couch. After covering her up with the blanket, I grab a cold bottle of water from the kitchen and bring it to her. “You never throw up, Abby. Ever. Want me to take you to the clinic or call your doctor or something?” My brows knit with worry. I just want her to feel better.
“I’m fine,” she assures me after a few gulps of her drink. “I don’t need a doctor.”
“Then what’s wrong? I swear you haven’t been yourself lately. I think you’re com?—”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts, blowing up my brain.
Pregnant. Abby is pregnant. My best friend is having a baby. It’s not my baby.
Wait… Where the hell did that come from? Of course, it’s not my baby. We’re friends, just friends.
It takes a moment before I can function again. “So… you’re having?—”
“It’s Davis’s. And he wants nothing to do with me or the baby.”
I knew I hated that bastard. Now I can finally kick his ass .