I dropped my sandals in the dark foyer and leaned my back against the door, blowing out a long breath. My heart still beat fast, and images of my non-date with Jay were vivid in my mind. I spent half of the night with a guy I wasn’t dating, and I liked it. 

My phone buzzed. A text appeared, and my heart ascended to my throat when I saw who sent it.

Jay: Did you get home safely?

I hesitated, finger hovering over the on-screen keyboard. We weren't a thing, and we'd never be one. My relationship with Jackson needed to either continue or end, and I refused to string Jason along while I was figuring out what to do with my life. 

Jay: Ivy?

I chewed on my bottom lip. Answering was the polite thing to do. He didn’t deserve my silence.

Me: Yeah. Thanks for asking.

Jay replied right away. 

Jay: Are you busy tomorrow? I just realized I promised to show you my favorite spots, but I only showed you one.

Crap. I definitely gave him false hopes. Ignoring the metallic taste of blood from biting on my lip too hard, I texted him.

Me: Two. The beach and the restaurant.

Fantastic, Ivy. That definitely sounded like a goodbye.

Jay: How about the best rooftops in Emerport? Tomorrow night?

It was tempting. But I couldn't. I didn't trust myself around him, and although Jackson wasn’t a boyfriend of the year, he wasn't a cheater. I rubbed my forehead. What a mess.

Me: Sorry, Jay. I really can't. I'm going to bed. Good night.

I took the cowardly way out, but it'd have to do for now. I locked my phone, picked up my purse from the floor, and tiptoed to my room not to wake up my parents. Dad was a sound sleeper, but Mom’s radar always detected me coming home, no matter how late it was. Not that she minded—even in high school, I didn't have a curfew. She trusted me, and being allowed to do most things I wanted turned me into a responsible adult.

In my bedroom, I took off my dress and padded to the en suite to remove my makeup and take a shower. As I opened the vanity drawer to fetch cotton pads, a box of tampons stared at me.

I picked it up. It was new, and I bought it when Mom and I did our monthly grocery shopping…over a month ago. 

Over forty days ago. 

My hands shook. Maybe it wasn't forty days. We still had some coffee and the chocolate chip cookies Dad liked. We would've run out of things earlier. 

Except I did go to the store a few times, and so did Mom. 

Damn it.

Damn. It.

I put the tampons on the vanity and went back into the room to get my phone. A quick check of the period tracker was like icy water pouring over my skin after a day in the blistering sun.

Forty-seven days since my last period. The app suggested doing a test, and I clutched my phone to my chest to stop myself from hurling it across the room.

I was twenty. Jackson wasn't the one. And I'd never been late.

***

I was an anxious mess as the girls and I lay on the sand the following morning. My eyes were red from lack of sleep, and the dark circles I was sporting took up half of my face, but luckily, those things went unnoticed.

“Speaking about guys." Isla rolled onto her side and bit her lip, sending a wink Ava’s way.

Ava giggled. "What?"

"Come on. Don't tell me you haven't watched the video and the interview."

A blush spread over Ava’s cheeks. I couldn't blame her. Fire and Rain, the song I listened to with Jay last night, would make anyone flustered, especially the girl dating the singer. She definitely was  Jim’s inspiration. "The video, yes, but not the interview,” Ava said. “Is it out?"

"Oh yeah,” Isla drawled. “And it's fire. Not rain; pure fire."

Ava swatted her with a towel and pressed her palms to her cheeks.

"Everyone's keeping secrets from me." Isla pouted. "And I'm living vicariously through you two. Ivy doesn't want to spill the tea about Jay and their date, either.”

I swallowed, trying to pull myself together so that my voice wouldn't betray my nerves. "It wasn't a date. Just a walk on the beach."

Isla arched her brow. "All night?" 

Technically, half of it, but I couldn't bother to correct her. "Yeah. And I had fun despite how obnoxious and cocky he is. But it's over. That was a one-time thing." I grabbed my sunglasses and put them on. 

"It's okay," Ava said. "But do you like him?"

Did I like him? He was definitely my type. I was drawn to bold guys with a wild streak, even though one of those broke my heart when I was eighteen. But liking Jay changed nothing. 

"It doesn't matter if I do," I said.

Ava opened her mouth, but I went on speaking. "It doesn't matter because I'm late."

I wasn't going to hide something so big from the girls because I needed them. And I was mentally prepared for the shocked look on their faces, although my stomach did sink a little.

“Wait a minute.” Isla sat and rubbed her palms over her face as if she needed to wake up. “What do you mean, late?”

Ava sat on the towel as well. “I think she means her period is late, right?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, glad the sunglasses hid them from my friends. “Yep. Seventeen days late.”

“Oh, shit,” Isla whispered. “Did you skip protection?”

I shook my head. I was responsible. I wanted to get a degree in interior design and have my own business after graduation. My five-year plan included traveling, fun, and studies. Pregnancy wasn’t in it.

“I don't get it,” Ava said. “Then what happened?”

“They say nothing is a hundred percent reliable.” Isla hugged her knees, giving me a pitying look. “But that's not helpful. How can we help?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “For starters, help me choose a test. And then pray it’s negative.”

Ava scooped up her sundress from the towel. “Let’s go. The sooner we know, the better.”

***

I was a long-awaited child. Mom took a leave of absence for the whole nine months because I was a miracle, possible thanks to five rounds of IVF, and she couldn’t risk losing me. She showed me the video of Dad crying as he held the positive pregnancy test, and that tender image was ingrained in my brain. I’d always thought I’d become a mom in my late twenties once I could provide for my child, and I sure as hell wanted a partner who’d treat me like Dad treated Mom.

But here I was, in Isla’s kitchen at twenty, sipping tea as Ava, Isla, and I took turns picking up and putting down my own positive test. 

“It’s a shame bad sex can lead to children,” I said into my mug. “I think men shouldn't be allowed to impregnate us without making us orgasm first. At least three times.”

The girls giggled. Some of the tension dissolved, and I no longer felt like crying. Tears would fix nothing, anyway. I had a problem, and I needed solutions, not waterworks.

“I think three isn't enough,” Isla said. “Let’s make it five.”

Ava hugged her and planted a smooch on her cheek. “You’re still a virgin, baby. Three is plenty.”

“Jackson’s knowledge of anatomy is deficient.” I snorted, putting the mug on the table. “Five would require an advanced degree in Clitology.”

Another burst of laughter followed, then I tucked my hair behind my ears, sighing. “Should I tell him in a text?”

“No,” Ava said. “That's too important. Just tell him you two need to talk. It's a shared responsibility.”

Isla took our empty mugs to the sink. “Ava’s right. Let us know how it goes once you've talked to him.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ava covered my hand with hers and squeezed it gently. After taking a deep breath, I took my phone from the table and texted Jackson I’d stop by his place in an hour.

And then, I blocked Jason’s number. My life was already more than complicated.