Chapter One

“Your pregnant aren’t you?” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and glared at my long time friend Courtney.

“Can you hand me a hair tie please?” I asked not bothering to respond to her question.

“JC is going to flip. I can’t believe your pregnant! What the fuck are we going to do?” She said as she rummaged through my bathroom cabinets.

While living with my two roommates Courtney and Meredith, I have come to know everything about them. It’s no surprise with all three of our boyfriends being best friends, as well as the three of us, that even the smallest most personal detail of our lives have become known facts.

For instance, Courtney is terrified of spiders. Not just big spiders, any spiders. She also hates onions and even the smell of onions will make her sick. She loves to sing Zoobalee Zoo in the shower and will throw her own mini-concerts while blow drying her hair.

Meredith has a knack for cooking. She won’t let most people know but when she wants to she can cook like nobody’s business. She also is a boyfriend stealer- well ok not really. Back before she and her current boyfriend Justin got together, I had been interested in him. The two of us went out once and I was completely smitten with him. He however, was not. He came by the apartment right before our date to drop off some flowers, I wasn’t home and Meredith was. The two were one of those ’love at first site’ couples. Exactly three days after Justin told me he wasn’t interest in me that way and gave me the “I want to be friends line”, Meredith called and asked if it was okay if she went out with him.

Of course I said yes even thought at the time I didn’t mean it and was slightly heartbroken over the matter. No more than 2 weeks later , Courtney, Trace, Justin, Meredith and myself went out to a club owned by Justin and Trace’s good friend JC. The two of us got to talking after he split his drink on my shoes and we haven’t been apart since.

“Court, could you please just, shut up. I’m not pregnant” I finally say as she hold out the small brown elastic hair piece to me. I pluck it from her fingers and pull my hair away from my face and throw it up into a sloppy bun.

“Are you sure?” She asks her hands on her hips.

I can’t answer her because I know the truth is not what she wants to hear. Am I sure? Hell fucking no. In fact I’m pretty sure I am pregnant. I’ve been sick for weeks, I’ve missed my period and I know they aren’t always 100% positive but when you take 15 pregnancy tests and they all say yes, your pretty much pregnant.

“Meg…..” She says. I push myself off the tiled floor and adjust my shirt before walking over to the sink and rinsing out my mouth.

“I have to get ready for work. Do me a favor and tell the guys I’ll be home a little late…” She nods her head and I brush past her into the hallway. I glance towards our other roommate’s closed door knowing fully well who else was in there with her.

I shake my head and continue towards my room. I slowly push open the door and let out a breath once my eyes land on the figure still peacefully sleeping in my bed. I quietly move throughout the room picking up random items of clothing that have been worn over the past week. I spot something red in the corner of the room and almost cry at the sight of it. That dress. That stupid fucking dress.

You know how people sometimes say you have a lucky dress? Or if your Beyonce you refer to it as your ‘Freakum Dress’ Well I thought this was my lucky dress. It had never let me down in the past and I had decided to ware it to my long time boyfriends birthday bash a few weeks back. Little did I know just how ‘lucky’ I could get in that dress. 10 tequila shots and 3 long Island Ice tea’s later I find myself waking up with a man who is NOT my boyfriend still wearing that dress.

Now I know I don’t remember a god damn thing that happened that night but it does not take a genus to figure it out.

Needless to say, it is no longer my lucky dress.

I bring myself back the task at hand and snatch up the dress crumpling it into a ball before I toss it into the hamper. I quickly finish and head over to the small night table by the bed and open the door as quietly as possible. The figure moves and I nearly scream when I feel a hand on my arm.

“Whoa, Hey……You alright?” He asks. I nod and let him pull me onto the bed beside him.

“I’m fine. Just a little nervous about work today. New client, you know how it is” I lie. I’ve become good at that. Sometimes they just come out of my mouth without even a second thought, even if it’s something so silly like why I was 5 minuets late- I’ll find myself coming up with some extravagant story about a huge 10 car pile up and a man in clown outfit in fear that if I say the wrong thing it will link back to that night and he’ll find out what really happened.

Trust me, I’m well aware of just how dumb that reasoning is but in some weird twisted way it makes sense so until this whole thing blows over, or I finally grow a set and tell him the truth, I’ll take it.

“Oh stop. Your going to be amazing and you know it.” He smiles at me and I have a fearful thought that it might be one of the last genuine smiles I get from him ever again. The thought alone makes me want to cry and I find myself moving off the bed and towards the bathroom. His hand stops me before I get far and he pulls me down so I could receive a short but sweet kiss.

“I love you and I don’t want you to worry about anything, your going to blow them away.” He says smiling before he places another kiss on my lips and then sets me free. I smile at him and hurry into the bathroom before the flood of tears starts trickling down my cheeks.

What kind of a person does this? What kind of person sleeps with the love of their life’s best friend and then proceeds to lie about it. What kind of a person let’s someone they love believe that everything is okay, when clearly everything is not.

I remember when JC and I first started dating and I had gone home with him for thanksgiving to meet his family. Off the bat I knew his brother didn’t like me. He kept sending me hateful glares and every time I attempted a conversation he’d change the subject or simply walk away mid sentence.

JC kept telling me over and over how Tyler just takes time to warm up to people. I really didn’t think that was the case but I wanted things with JC and I to work out, so I gave him another chance. Needless to say no more than two days after our conversation and a massive amount of his brothers 3 year old behavior, I had about all I could take.

We were all hanging around in the kitchen helping his mother and father as they prepared for dinner. I had brought a long my camera with me and was snapping pictures every now and then just to capture the moment. Tyler kept making remarks to JC like, “Could you be anymore annoying with that thing!” and “Do you have to take a picture of his every move?” but I kept my cool.

It wasn’t until JC and I were working on the homemade biscuits his mother had prepped the night before. She asked us to break off pieces of the dough and hand roll them into small balls. Within 10 minuets the two of us were covered in flour and it had to be the cutest moment in our relationship. That was until his mother suggest someone take a picture. So good old Tyler, picks up my 1,500 dollar Canon and offered to take the picture.

Hesitantly I turned to JC and he was oblivious to the smirk on Tyler’s face. He simply put his arms around me and pushed our faces close together. Tyler snapped the picture and I was about to let out a breath when, almost as if it was in slow motion, I watched the camera lazily slip from his hands and smash straight to the floor.

Now, normally I am a very cool and collected person. Accidents happen and if he offered some kind of apology or had any indication of guilt I would of sucked up the desire to karate chop his ass into the biscuits and simply pick up my camera and try to salvage what was left.

That however, was not the case. He laughed.

He fucking LAUGHED. And then said the one word that sealed the deal on my hatred for him.

“Opps.”

OPPS! Are you fucking kidding me!? I lost it, I blew up at him and while trying to pick up the pieces of my favorite camera I started screaming things to him I never knew I had the guts in me to say. I then raced up the steps and into the room his mother pegged as mine and dumped myself along with my 5 piece camera onto the bed and cried.

It took JC three hours to get me to calm down and when I finally stopped crying I asked him why he wasn’t honest with me. It’s not to say I didn’t know Tyler didn’t like me, I just wanted to believe JC when he said it would just take time. He kept apologizing and saying he didn’t want to hurt me.

Of course I said what any woman would say. “ I’d rather you tell me the truth and hurt me, then let me keep believing a lie.”

Talk about famous last words.

I could try and reason with myself and say that by not telling him, I’m avoiding any kind of pain he would go through if he knew the truth. But let’s be honest, that’s a load of crap and I know it. All that would do is add another reason to the list of why I should marooned onto an island with one bullet and a pistol.

I have to tell him and I have to tell him soon.

This is not going to be easy.