“What the fuck has gotten into you?” she said.
“Just not in the mood right now, OK?”
Diamond sighed.
“A deal is a deal, and it is not yet Sunday night, I will grant you that,” she said. “But don’t make me fucking wait for you to remember. You don’t come over to the Sapphire tonight, I will come here and tell everyone about your little deal. Don’t make this more dramatic than it already is.”
With that, she walked out of the clubhouse. I was left to sit on the couch, burying my head in my hands.
I was about to have sex for a week straight with the stripper with the biggest rack and ass in all of Albuquerque, and it felt like a fucking nightmare.
Hannah
Three Weeks Later
“Seriously, Garrett, why?”
I stared at my phone. Since the Saturday night that we’d had sex, I’d sent him three different messages.
All of them had been ignored. And I knew all of them had been read; I got read receipts informing me of the exact time that he’d done that. I’d never felt so much like a sex doll in my life.
I wasn’t someone he was attracted to. I was a taboo object of desire, and once fulfilled, I served no further purpose.
I didn’t pretend that Garrett and I were destined to be happily ever after, but fuck, just because I was looking to let loose a little didn’t mean that I wanted to be fucked-and-dumped. I would have at least liked to have had a few more rounds of sex to make it not seem so…so transactional.
But no.
I was sick at the realization that no one, except my brother, stayed in my life for long. My parents, lovers, friends…at some point, I wanted to believe someone would stick around forever, but these days, “forever” just meant “longer than a few months.” Mason was the only person who surpassed that, and I couldn’t say a fucking word about it to him.
I couldn’t say a fucking word to anyone about it. I had never felt so isolated. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t focus. I’d missed my period, I’d stressed so much. Hell, even pizza was making me feel like shit—and if I couldn’t have pizza, then I knew I was feeling off.
I knew I couldn’t just sit passively back and let this unfold like so. I dialed Garrett and held the phone to my ear. It rang once…twice…three times…he’s not going to answer…a fourth time…yep, I should have known…a fifth time.
“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system.”
I sighed. I almost considered just not saying anything, but I decided if he was going to be a dick to me, the least I needed to do was call him out on a voicemail and let him know how much of an ass he was being. I waited for the “BEEP” to sound, and as soon as it did, I started.
“Garrett…”
But I struggled with what to say next. Stress made me not want to act so angry. It made me just want his company, to hear his terrible jokes, to see him flirt like a fucking champ.
“Garrett, call me, will you?” I said. “Just…”
What else could I say? It wasn’t like some magic words would make him call me. My tone mattered more, and I think that got the point across. I dropped the phone to my side, looked at it, and finally hung up.
I looked over at the box of barely eaten pizza. I grabbed another slice and took a bite, but it felt sickening again. I put it to the side, dropped it, and felt my stomach start to surge.
I headed for the bathroom. I didn’t throw up. I kept it down. Barely.
But the lack of throwing up only gave me the time to imagine the worst-case scenario. An STD. My brother finding out and abandoning me in anger. A pregnancy. A—
I paused.
I’d missed my period. I’d struggled to sleep. I was feeling some sort of mixture of feelings.
I…
No, I couldn’t be pregnant, could I?
