Chapter 11
Arianna
Me: I’m never forgiving Mom after this.
Dean: Still down for the count?
Me: I’m one hurl away from begging to be drowned in a decontamination shower.
Dean: Please just let me bring you some medicine or something…
Me: Sorry, Viv already said she’s on the way to help.
Dean: *gasp* How dare you let someone else take care of you!
Me: You’re only upset cause she got here first.
Dean: Well yeah, my offer even came with puppy cuddles. Bet she can’t give you that.
The doorbell rings before I can think of a response.
With a sigh, I set my phone down on the end table, slide my laptop to the side, and start detangling myself from the blankets.
I move slowly, taking stock of how my body feels.
It has been hours since I last threw up so I’d been hoping that meant I was finally on the mend.
However, just swinging my feet off the couch and standing up tells me I might be wrong.
By the time I make it to the small foyer, Vivian has her face pressed against one of the small windowpanes that frame the door. She grins when she spots me, and any other time, I’d laugh with her. But right now, I just want to get back to the couch.
After unlocking the deadbolt and knob, I heave open the door for her before turning to retreat to the spot I’d been rotting in for the past two days. I don’t have to turn back to know that Vivian is letting herself in and locking the door behind her.
“All right, I come armed with supplies for my sick little nugget,” she says as she follows me.
Since I make it to the living room first, I pause at my coffee table long enough to close my laptop and tidy up my mess a bit. Satisfied that there’s enough space for Vivian’s things, I turn to face her just as my stomach drops.
“Please tell me there are more drugs in that bag,” I groan, dropping back onto the couch, and pick up my “just in case” bowl from the floor and clutch it to my chest.
I’m suddenly grateful that I managed to get my Monday workload done over the past couple hours because something tells me that my day is about to take another gross turn.
“I have everything you could possibly need,” Viv says, her tone much too cheerful, considering I’m hanging onto whatever remains in my stomach by a thread.
“You’re my hero,” I grumble, trying to sound grateful but completely failing.
I lower the bowl to my lap, only slightly confident that I won’t hurl.
Vivian starts removing the contents of the bag onto my coffee table, lining them all up next to each other.
My favorite mint tea. Soup. Cough drops. Cold and flu medicine. And…
“Um, Viv, what the fuck is that for?”
My best friend huffs and picks up the box that makes my already weak stomach lurch.
“Our periods have been synced up since freshman year of college when we moved into our dorm room together.” She reminds me while coming to sit beside me with that damn box still in her hand.
“Yes, and?” I snap. She tries to hand it to me, but I shrink away. Which is a horrible reaction based on the way my stomach twists.
“And you’re late.” She points to the bowl in my lap. “And you’re puking.”
“Yeah, ’cause Mom got me sick.” I manage to shake my head twice before covering my mouth. Staring at Vivian with wide eyes as I wait for the wave of nausea to pass, I count back the days once. Then twice.
Then a third time because there’s no way what she’s implying is true.
“No,” I whisper, finally looking down at the pregnancy tests.
“Told you I brought everything,” she says sheepishly, still holding the box out for me to take from her. But I can’t move. Vivian leans closer, gently placing her free hand on my leg.
“Babe, you at least need to rule out the possibility. Maybe it is just a cold that’s fucking with your body.
Which would be surprising, considering we both once had the flu and our periods and we were quite literally in hell.
Still”—she extends the box out once more and this time, I take it from her with a shaky hand—“you should take the test, just in case.”
“Will you do it with me?”
Viv raises a brow. “You want me to pee on a stick with you?”
I huff out a half-assed laugh and roll my eyes. “No, dumbass. I just mean—”
“I know what you meant, Ari.” She takes the bowl from my lap and sets it on the coffee table before holding her hand out for me. “I’m right here with you. Wouldn’t be the first time I saw you pee. Probably won’t be the last.”
“Might be. Considering you’re moving in three weeks.”
“If you think for one second that me moving two states away means we won’t be all up in each other’s business, you’ve got another thing coming for you.” She helps me stand, then snatches up an unopened sleeve of plastic cups before following me upstairs to my bedroom.
I probably could have saved myself the hassle of going up a flight of stairs while on the brink of puking. But taking a pregnancy test feels like something that should be done in my personal bathroom.
Vivian follows me into my attached bathroom and hands me a plastic cup.
“Can’t I just pee on the stick?” I ask, dumbfounded beyond belief.
“I mean, yeah. But if it does come back positive and you end up wanting to take another for double confirmation, you have pee ready to go again instead of having to wait until you gotta go again.”
“Oh,” I say, shoving my sweats down, and sit on the toilet before taking the empty cup. After a few seconds of tense silence, I’m about to lose my mind. “Distract me. I need to think about anything else but what I’m doing.”
From the corner of my eye, I see her hop onto the counter as she starts rambling about how she plans to fit everything she owns into her hatchback. Her rambling distracts me enough to finally pee in the damn cup.
After washing my hands, I stand in front of the counter just staring at it.
A blue package fills my vision as Vivian hands me a test, already ripped open on one side. Sucking in a deep breath, I take it from her and go through the motions before putting the cap back on and placing the test face down.
The longer I stare at the test, the more my gut riots.
“Shit,” I mumble, barely managing to drop to my knees in front of the toilet. Thankfully, my hair was already secured in a messy bun on top of my head, so it’s one less thing to worry about.
Considering all I’ve managed to eat in the past forty-eight hours is a couple saltine crackers, I’m shocked that there’s even anything left to lose. What feels like an eternity of expelling a demon from my body, I sit on my floor with my back leaning against the bathtub.
“Well, on the bright side, time’s up,” Viv says and I crack open an eye to find her pointing at the test.
I hold out a hand, unable to get up or even say anything. Not that Vivian needs me to.
My best friend grabs the test, keeping her eyes on me and the test face down as she comes to sit by my side. The cool plastic meets my palm, and I don’t let myself think about it as I flip the test.
“Holy shit.” Viv says at the same time I say, “Oh fuck.”
The word pregnant fills the little screen. That’s all it takes for me to lurch forward once more and cling to the toilet like my life depends on it.