“When I saw it trending on Twitter, I immediately thought of you.”
Okay, my possible pregnancy is definitely not trending on Twitter, because not enough people would care to make an idiot nurse who forgot to take birth control pills a trending topic. Although, as a society, we should continue to educate the youth about pregnancy. And I would be a prime example of whatnotto do.
Wanting to play it cool, as if I’m in the know, I say, “Oh yeah, why did you think of me immediately?”
His brow pinches together and he lifts off the wall. “Uh, because you’re dating him.”
For a brief second—very brief—I think that maybe my pregnancy is trending on Twitter, but I shake that thought straight from my head.
Don’t be a moron, Adalyn. For Christ’s sake, you’re not pregnant.
“Dating Hayden.” I nod, lips pressed together, still unsure what Logan could be talking about.
“From the blank look in your eyes, I’m going to assume you don’t know.”
Guilty.
“Yeah, I didn’t check the old Twitter yet today.” I’ve had embryos on the mind. “What’s going on? Did his underwear ad go viral?”
“No . . . Adalyn, he was traded.”
My eyes blink rapidly because my ears must be deceiving me. With my finger to my chin, disbelief consuming me, I say, “I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you say he was traded?”
“Shit, he didn’t tell you?”
“Does this look like someone who is in the know of their boyfriend being traded?” I stare at Logan, at his deep green eyes, trying to make sense of this. Traded. Like . . . to another team? Massaging my forehead with two fingers, I ask, “When you say traded, what exactly do you mean?”
Logan breathes out a heavy sigh and takes me to the nurses station where he sits me down in a chair. This is good, because in case I decide to pass out, the fall is shorter to the ground. No need to be a battered possibly pregnant woman with a boyfriend who has been traded. Battered makes me look pathetic.
Taking my hands in his after removing the clipboard, Logan forces me to look at him. “Addie, he’s been traded to the Quakes.”
“Mm-hmm, I hear ya. The Quakes. Sounds like a fun team.” Swallowing hard, I ask, “By chance, do you happen to know where the Quakes are located?”
Logan pauses, his eyes softening with regret as he says, “Los Angeles.”
I’ve seen hysterical women before, when their eyes bug out of their sockets, their hair looks wild, like they played around with the electrical socket for far too long. They bare their fangs and start hissing at everyone within a three-foot radius. I see hysterical women at least once a week, and I always wonder what it must be like to be in their shoes, to want to chuck a tongue depressor across the room and demand non-latex gloves. But I’ve never been in their position. I’ve never felt so passionate about something that I’ve felt the need to karate chop every throat that crosses my path.
And I’m not saying I’m hysterical, because I’m more in shock than anything, but I can feel the hysterics. I can feel the need to strap on a black belt and take innocent victims under my steely slice of a hand. If a tongue depressor were in reach right now, I would consider stabbing Logan in the ribs with it.
But I’m not there. I’m not atthatlevel. I’m just itching to get there.
“Question.” I prop my chin on my hand, trying to act as casual as possible. “Is this trade final?”
“It’s final, Addie.”
I hold up my finger. “One more question. What is the distance between Binghamton and Los Angeles?”
Pity is written all over Logan’s face when he says, “It’s not drivable.”
Yup.
I start nodding my head, bobbing it up and down, trying to comprehend what Logan is telling me. Hayden, Captain Sexy Cock, is moving to Los Angeles, where palm trees flank the streets and snow is a mythical ice crystal that falls from the sky in far-off lands.
I, Adalyn, General Forgets Her Pills, will be staying in Binghamton, New York, which is located two miles down from Jack Frost’s tundra of an armpit, with a possible demon baby that can bypass sperm-eating acid.
I’m not a mathematician, but I’m pretty sure the two don’t add up.
“I’m sorry, Addie, but maybe it’s for the best. Because what were you two—”
