I WAIT FOR SUKI TO laugh.

Suki has a dimple under her lip, nested on the shelf of her chin when she smiles. I wait for that dimple to form as she tells me that it's a joke. Like when she feigns breaking up with me, or running away from home, or dropping out of the Academy. She's on birth control, and she's devout about it. This has to be a joke.

She goes for a hug. My grip tightens around Suki, who feels impossibly fragile in my arms all of a sudden. I've never thought of my girlfriend as in need of protection, or at risk of breaking. Until she breaks down, sobbing noiselessly into me, her breath scalding my chest.

It's not a joke.

My arms wrap around her neck, keeping her head buried to my chest. I kiss the top of her head, lips meeting silky strands of hair. I kiss her again, again, again, completely silent while she trembles in my arms. I don't know what to say.

My brain just blanks. I can't think of anything comforting, rational or hopeful to say to her. I'm not clever, witty or silver-tongued. My pick-up lines were cheesy at best. I've always been thankful that she willingly carries the weight of all our conversations.

I don't know what to say.

All I know is that I love her. And she needs me right now.

"Let's go up to my room," I murmur, smoothing her hair in my palm.

My only plan of action is to make Suki stop crying. Usually I find it hilarious when she cries because it's ridiculous things that set her off. The only things that get through Suki's chainmail defence against the world are slivers—not battering rams or Cupid's arrows. Puppies, old people celebrating their wedding anniversaries, The Notebook.

Turns out, also a pregnancy.

She shivers. "The blood test came back—"

"Not right now."

If she starts to think, she'll only overthink. Until she's untouchably afraid. I suggest instead, "Let's just do a Disney marathon today. We can talk all day tomorrow, yeah?"

"Tomorrow?" Suki asks doubtfully.

She doesn't resist me when I guide us up the stairs, into my bedroom. Somehow I'm trembling now, like her shivers are infectious, even though it's sweltering inside and out. Trying to steady my hands, I start setting up my laptop. I place it at the end of the bed with a movie loaded onscreen.

"This— this is huge news," I tell Suki.

My throat feels tight suddenly, like someone is squeezing my neck in their hands. The sensation only gets worse as I speak, so I fall silent for several minutes. Suki takes to lying on the bed, supine, silent.

I tell her, "I'm not letting you go back home tonight, not when you should be with someone who understands. I'm sure Dad won't mind letting you sleepover."

I can't imagine letting her go. On the bus, then walking home alone. I can't imagine her out there, in the big, wide world, when her eyes are unblinking and unfocused. It's like her consciousness has been plucked out of her body. I'm left with the shell of Suki, and none of the vibrant, quick-witted spirit I love. I need to get her back before I can send her home.

"My parents," she whispers. "They think I'm out with Delaney right now."

I blink. Delaney Morrison is Suki's friend in her homeroom class, red hair, pointy nose, a huge voice in a little body. I've never met her, but they must be close if they're covering for each other.

"Ask if Delaney can cover for you overnight," I suggest. Suki shuffles over when I get onto the bed beside her. "You two are close enough for that, right?"

"Mm-hmm," she says numbly. She brings her phone out with trembling hands, opening up a message box. "I think so."

I start the movie and lean back into the pillows, grinning at Suki. I'm sure my smile looks stiff and forced—that's the way it feels—but then again, she isn't truly focused on my face.

"First up. The Little Mermaid."

"You know I hate that movie," Suki remarks numbly.

"I know." That's why I chose it.

Being happy is probably a huge ask, but I want her to at least come out of the shock she's feeling. Suki has a seemingly never-ending list of criticisms about this movie, which might work to shake off her stupor.

"Remind me why? Preferably with in-film commentary."

Suki sighs and slings arm across my stomach, curling into my side. She's completely still as the first minutes of the film plays on the small screen at the foot of the bed. Part of me knows she's already figured my tactic out—distract until it's easier to process, easier to talk about—like the day I asked her out.

It only ever takes her a second. But I hope she's not too clever that she refuses to let it work.

"Concerts this large don't just happen without practices and dress rehearsals," she says quietly, eventually. My chest slowly deflates as I let out a relieved sigh.

"I would know. If Ariel ditched, it meant she did so fully knowing it was on her agenda. I just can't with that level of irresponsibility. I mean, I'm her age and I'm—"

Her thoughts round back to the elephant in the room, and I try to reign them in.

"You're plenty responsible, baby," I tell her. "The most responsible person I know."

Suki swallows audibly. She no longer cries. Somehow I want the tears back, rather than this statuesque, mournful figure. It's like nothing can reach her now.

"Then why did this happen?"

I don't know what to say.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Dad took some convincing to let Suki sleep over.

He seemed mostly upset that he would have to pass up his exciting evening—drinking beers and watching the Saturday football at the bar—to chaperone us. I told him he didn't have to babysit, but he levelled a stern look at me.

"You're two hormonal teenagers," he grumbled. "I'm making sure I don't end up with grandkids."

And I nearly cried then and there.

Dad gave me that jocular roll of his eyes he always did. I was still a fucking kid. How could I have a kid of my own? My thoughts nearly fell out of me, but thankfully, I made it upstairs with our dinner before Dad noticed anything suspicious.

Not that we were at particular risk of that happening; Dad lives in a trance these days, floating between intoxication and its consequences. He's always either drunk or hungover.

It was the first time Suki had stayed over in my bed. When I daydreamed about this milestone, I never imagined it'd be like this. I gave her a shirt of mine to wear, and pajama pants, and she looked so small in my clothing that my heart cracked a little. A kid coming out of her would kill her.

But she pottered around the upper floor with a robotic consistency, all her movements the same speed; brushing her teeth, combing her hair and tying it up, slipping into bed. We lay side by side, and I was asleep before she was. The door stayed open.

Suki wakes up with an alert glint to her eyes. Seeing that, I know everything's going to be alright.

She rolls up one of my towels and shoves it against the gap under my door frame. It guards against anyone overhearing us, as if Dad would even care enough to eavesdrop.

"I was at the mall. I smelt cheese and I just had to go to the bathrooms to throw up. But I was fine at home, so I thought it was just food poisoning or something. Then my parents started getting worried. So I thought I better go the doctor and put it to rest so they'd stop stressing."

I reach out for her hand, tracing soothing patterns on her skin.

"And my doctor offered me a pregnancy test, and I thought I couldn't be pregnant because I'm on birth control, you know?"

I nod. That was my first reaction, too. After our first time in Haywood Park, Suki would get it into her head that each late period meant she was pregnant. Her paranoia drove her straight to Planned Parenthood. She started on Depo Provera the next week.

It was supposed to protect her against pregnancy for three whole months. I'm confused why it didn't.

"But she was very nice and 'if there's any chance at all' about it."

Suki was told her periods might cease as a side effect of the injection. She couldn't tell anything by her cycle—or lack thereof.

"So I peed on the damn stick, for both our peace of mind, and it came back positive. Fuck," she says, with a waver in her voice.

I can't believe all this happened without me knowing. Her morning sickness, going to her doctor's clinic. Why didn't Suki tell me?

"Then she ordered a qualitative blood test, which said that I'm about eight weeks along. Eight weeks!" she whisper-yells. "I've had plants die on me quicker than that, Terrence."

That's two months. Nearly the whole summer.

"Anyways, now they want me to call them and schedule an ultrasound to check on the gestation and health of the—" she wavers. "Of the— of the baby."

Baby.

She said it.

The word sounds foreign to me. It's my nickname for Suki. Not a fucking child. Not a foetus. Oh, my God—

"Hey," I blurt loudly. I can't spiral right now. My hand tightens on Suki's, more for my comfort than hers. "It's okay. We'll figure this out. I just can't believe you went through this all alone. Why didn't you tell me?"

"And freak you out for nothing?" she asks. "Hormonal birth control is supposed to be, like, 98% effective. I thought I was just being paranoid as usual. Fuck."

"It's okay. We'll be fine," I repeat, hoping the words will sink in if I repeat them often enough.

I'm not feeling like myself right now. I have no jokes to make or chocolate-covered strawberries to shove into the situation. In fact, the usual Terrence would be the worst-equipped person ever to deal with a fucking baby.

I shake my head. "Okay. First things first."

I can't be the usual Terrence. But I can try to be like Suki. Rational. Calculating, to a fault sometimes.

"We'll get our priorities in order. The most important thing is to make sure that you are safe and healthy. So we'll do the ultrasound. Then we can look at our options after that."

I hope I sound confident. I don't even know what an ultrasound is.

Suki's frantic brown eyes meet mine. "But I need to figure out—"

"No. You don't. Turn your brain off."

Ever since Mom walked out on us, rom-coms and chick flicks have ceased to exist in this household. From the last I remember, curled up with her watching cable TV, ultrasounds are those things where they squeeze jelly onto the mother's stomach and get an X-ray-looking image of the kid. The baby. The foetus. Oh, my God.

I blurt, "Look at me."

Look at her.

I grab Suki's face and bring her eyes level to mine. "Don't try to see into the future. Just look at me." Just look at her. "Ultrasound first."

Ultrasound first.

"That's all you have to think about, okay?"

"Okay," Suki nods, her cheeks sliding against my palms. Our faces gravitate together, and I lean my forehead against hers. It hurts a bit, our skulls colliding with too much force, but I need it. I need her close.

Her shaky breath ghosts across my mouth. "Can we make the call together?"

I exhale and kiss her on the forehead. "Of course, baby."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

A / N :

My poor babies. Pregnancy can happen even on hormonal contraception, and this situation is one of the biggest curveballs I can imagine. One of the songs on the soundtrack for this book is Home by MAX and it honestly fits this chapter perfectly. Here's one of my favourite parts:

She said, "Look at me, baby. / Do you wanna have this baby?" / Will she still be my baby if I say no? / And darling, where do we go? / Do we make this a home?

Please vote, comment and follow me if you liked this chapter <3

Aimee x