“Because I can’t believe that you were a bully in high school,” I tell her.
“I wasn’t a bully. I was just popular,” she says.
“Popular kids were usually the bullies,” I say.
“You weren’t popular?” She asks, and I shake my head. “Oh, come on. I have a hard time believing that!”
“Well, believe it. Until I was in college, I was actually kind of an outcast,” I tell her, and she giggles.
“Be serious,” she says, leaning into me.
“I am being serious,” I tell her with a smile, mostly because the way she is melting into me has me feeling a bit jumbled. “I wasn’t cool. Trust me. The school bullies reminded me of that daily.”
“You were bullied?” She asks, pulling away to look at me.
“A lot,” I say. “At school and at home.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her smile gone.
“I’m not. It motivated me. I focused on my grades. Was top of my class. Started working out. Even joined the wrestling team.Then one day in college during a fraternity party, I stumbled into a basement boxing ring, a little makeshift thing. It was illegal and shady, and I was hooked. I kind of became two people: a business major by day and a low-key bare-knuckle boxer by night.”
“That’s a lot,” she says with a tiny smile returning.
“It was. But you know what I wasn’t?” I ask and she waits for the answer. “Bullied anymore,” I say, smiling at her. Our lips are close enough that if I wanted to, I could kiss her.
“I can’t imagine anyone picking on you,” she says softly. I can feel her breath on my skin.
“Oh, they did. Relentlessly. I was smaller back then,” I say, playing with a lock of hair that has liberated itself from her bun.
“You? Small?” she teases.
“Scrawny even,” I say, and she giggles. “Luckily, I went through a growth spurt.”
“Luckily,” she echoes.
“I can’t imagine you being mean and popular,” I say. “Even if you have been hanging out with Brynn.”
“That was before,” she says, her voice a velvety whisper.
“And what comes after?” I ask.
And our mouths connect.
Chapter 24
Mila
“Well darlin’,ain’t no doubt about it. You’re 150% pregnant.”
The OBGYN is a small and spunky blonde, and guessing by her accent, she’s not from California. I’m waiting for her to saybless your heartand ask about the baby’s daddy, but right now she is still sweeping the wand through the jelly on my belly, smiling like this is the first time she’s seen an ultrasound.
“How can you tell?” I ask, immediately realizing how stupid the question sounds. Luckily, Dr. Marissa Williams is as sweet as sugar and doesn’t judge me for it. “I mean, the pregnancy test I took at home said I was pregnant. Which is why I am here. I just can’t really see what you’re looking at.”
“So this is the sack,” she says, motioning at the black bubble on the screen. “And this right here, this little white bean shape, that’s your baby.”
“That’s a baby?” I ask like an idiot.
“Yep. If we zoom in, you can see the outline of the head even though it’s really deformed right now. She just hasn’t grown into a baby shape yet.”
