Football Baby: A Secret Baby Romance Page 5

  “I don’t know…” she says, her words trailing off.

  “Come on,” I say, trying to make my voice not sound pleading. “I wouldn’t be asking you if I wasn’t sure that you wanted the same thing, but that you were scared. You just need me to help you, to give you the little push that will make you come out with me.”

  “Maybe,” she says.

  “Come on,” I say, trying to keep my voice from sounding desperate, but desperate is how I feel. I feel desperate to keep her in my life, to create a future with her. I know this is all crazy, but my rational mind has completely flown out the window, and has left only my poetic romantic mind to run the show.

  “Ok,” she says.

  I can’t see her face, but somehow I can feel her smile radiating up towards me. It’s like there’s an incredible energy coming from her body, an energy that envelopes us and pulls us together, like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  “I…” she starts to say.

  Is she going to say she loves me?

  “What is it?” I say. “You can tell me anything, Lauren.”

  “I don’t know,” she says, suddenly seeming embarrassed. “I don’t know what I was going to say.”

  Maybe this isn’t the time.

  I don’t want to tell her until she feels comfortable with the feeling herself. They’ll be plenty of time for all that later once she comes to Seattle with me.

  “I’m so fucking excited,” I say, falling for a moment back into my football way of talking.

  “Me too,” she says.

  We spend the night slowly walking arm in arm and around the darkened campus, gazing at the stars, and talking about everything under the sun. We talk about our childhoods, and I realize that she really did have quite a hard time. It doesn’t even sound like her parents are interested in attending her graduation.

  We walk down to the small river that encircles Twilmore campus, and sit together by the banks, our legs touching. We make out heavily for a while, but eventually fall back into talking.

  Lauren rests her head in my lap, gazing up at my face and the stars.

  The sound of the gently flowing river is all around us.

  “I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” she says, gazing right into my eyes. The lights from the stars and the moon have increased, making it easy for us to see each other.

  “Me neither,” I say.

  “I can tell your cock feels the same way,” she says, starting to giggle.

  “You can feel it on your head?” I say, realizing that my cock has never been more swollen.

  “It’s basically stabbing me in the back of the head. It feels like a huge wooden spear or something.”

  “I hope it’s a little sexier than a huge wooden spear,” I say, laughing along with her.

  “Well,” she says. “It’s getting really late, so unfortunately for both of us your cock is going to have to wait until tomorrow before it gets any more action.”

  “Any more relief, you mean,” I say. “This is like an affliction.”

  She gives me a big kiss, and grabs my cock briefly with her hand.

  Just the slight pressure feels amazing, but I know myself that it’s late enough, and we both have work to do tomorrow if we’re going to pass finals and graduate.

  “So we’ve got two weeks more here on campus, right?” I say.

  “Yup,” she says. “Well, you do, at least.”

  “What do you mean? You’re not going to stay for graduation?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t see the point. My parents aren’t going to be coming. I don’t have a lot of friends on campus, really. I’ve always been too busy working.”

  “I feel like I’m lucky you’ve always been hiding away working. That way no other guy had the chance to snatch you up before I found you.”

  “You really think other guys are interested in me?”

  “Definitely. You never noticed the way they look at you, even in those baggy pants?”

  “I guess once in a while, but I’ve always been so busy, you know? I don’t have time for the niceties in life, like catching guys checking me out.”

  I laugh, and we both start getting to our feet.

  “My leg is starting to feel a little stiff again,” I say.

  “Well, you’ve got an appointment with me tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah. How are you working so much during finals week?”

  “I didn’t have any other options,” she says, gazing out into the water.

  “Why don’t you stay around for graduation?” I say. “I’m sure my parents would like to meet you if you’re going to be moving out to Seattle with me and everything. You can come have dinner with us.”

  “Really?” she says, seeming a little nervous but also excited about the idea.

  “Of course, are you kidding me?”

  She doesn’t say anything, but she takes my hand again, and gives me another kiss, this time a light, sweet one.

  “Why are you so good to me?” she says.

  I don’t know what to say. I know what I want to say, but I can’t get the words to come out.

  7

  Lauren

  Dylan and I spend almost all of our time together in the week leading up to finals. Despite having apparently less time to study, we both find that we do much better on the exams than we’d thought.

  “See,” says Dylan. “I told you it would work like this. It’s because our connection is making us less stressed in general.”

  “Plus I don’t think all the sex is hurting either,” I say.

  It’s true. We’ve been going at it like rabbits, at least twice a day every day, usually after a difficult final.

  “So your parents are getting here soon?”

  “Tomorrow,” Dylan says.

  It’s a little strange, but I feel excited about meeting his parents. We’ve been talking more and more about me moving out to Seattle, and Dylan has already gone ahead and bought a ticket.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell Cindy, one day, at work. “I’m going to be moving out to Seattle with Dylan, and I’m not going to be working here any more. If you could just let the boss know, that’d be great.”

  I don’t think I have the energy to actually face the boss, not with finals happening, and everything else.

  “Oh, is he the hot football player from the other day? Wow, you guys move fast!”

  “It’s just that…” I don’t know what to say out of embarrassment.

  “Are you kidding, girl? I like your style! He’s quite the catch”

  Cindy gives me a huge hug as I walk out of the building for the last time.

  I feel like I’m cutting my ties with Twilmore and Upstate New York one by one. I’m never going to see this place again, hopefully, if I can help it.

  I still don’t know what I’m going to do for work once I’m in Seattle. Dylan tells me not to worry about it at all, that he’ll pay for everything, but I’ve obviously never been that type of person.

  It’s hard enough for me to accept the ticket that he’s buying me. My self sufficiency instinct is simply too ingrained, and it would feel wrong to me to take his money

  It’s now almost exactly two weeks after we first had sex. I wake up in bed feeling a little queasy. This is one of the first nights in the last two weeks that Dylan and I haven’t slept in the same bed.

  He had to get up early this morning to go meet his parents at the airport. They’re flying in from Boston, and he thought it’d be nice to surprise them at the airport. We agreed that it might be a little much if I showed up with him.

  As far as I know, he’s just mentioned me, but he hasn’t yet told them I’m moving out to Washington State with him.

  “Oh shit,” I say, getting out of my bed. I feel like I’m going to vomit, but nothing comes out.

  I don’t even have time to rush down the hall to the bathroom, so it’s a good thing I’m not actually vomiting.
r />   “Are you OK?” says Tasha, somewhat sleepily. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “I don’t feel so well,” I manage to say.

  “Did you eat something bad?”

  “Just the usual campus food.”

  “Well that’d normally be enough to make you feel sick, but you should have built up a healthy tolerance to it over the last four years. I can’t see it making you sick in your final year. And finals are over, so the stress shouldn’t be making you sick.”

  “It’s not stress,” I say, keeping my sentences short, because my stomach is making it hard for me to form completel sentences.

  Tasha gets out of her bed and comes over to me. “Shit,” she says. “You really don’t look good up close. But it doesn’t look like food poisoning or anything.” She holds the back of her hand against my forehead, checking my temperature. “You don’t feel hot.”

  I’m sitting at the foot of my bed, hunched over. “I think I feel a little better now,” I say. “It’s just one of those times where you wake up and feel kind of queasy.”

  “What did you just say?” says Tasha, giving me a harsh look.

  I don’t know why she’s paying this so much attention. It’s not a big deal, right?

  “I said it’s just like one of those times where you wake up and feel sick to your stomach.”

  “And how often does that happen to you?” says Tasha.

  “Well…never I guess,” trying to think of a time where something similar happened.

  “Lauren, did you get your period yesterday?”

  “My period? How do you know when I get my period?”

  “You’ve never heard of women’s cycles lining up?”

  “Oh yeah, I guess I have. I just didn’t realize it had happened to us.”

  “Well you don’t really know me that well. You’re always at work. That’s a discussion for another time though. But Lauren, did you get your period yesterday? I know that you’re like clockwork, and you’re never even a day late.”

  I think back.

  Shit, I didn’t even notice.

  But no, I didn’t get my period.

  I shake my head.

  “Oh shit,” says Tasha.

  “That’s not that helpful,” I say. “But, I missed it…so what, though, right? It doesn’t mean I’m pregnant, does it?”

  “You had sex with Dylan two weeks ago, right? That means you were probably ovulating.”

  “But I’m on the pill,” I say, my voice almost becoming a pleading whine.

  “It’s going to be OK, Lauren, but just try to calm down a little. We can work together on this.”

  “Don’t you need to be studying, like you always are?”

  “Finals are already over, and I’m already valedictorian.”

  “You are? Holy shit! Wow, I didn’t even know.”

  “Why would you?” she says, but she doesn’t seem that upset. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s talking to me so much. This is probably the longest conversation we’ve had together in all the four years we’ve roomed together.

  “So what should I do?” I say, focusing again on my apparent pregnancy.

  Tasha is right. I’ve never once been even a day late in my cycle.

  Holy shit. What am I going to do if I’m pregnant?

  What about the financiall responsibility?

  Well, at least I know whose it is, unlike some other girls in the college. But that’s not much of a consolation.

  Sure, we agreed to move in together, Dylan and I, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to have a baby with me. And I’m certainly not ready. I have bills to pay, for one thing. I can’t be supporting a baby right now. Aren’t’ they extremely expensive?

  “I’ll go get you a pregnancy test from the health clinic,” says Tasha. “It’s right down stairs. Just stay here and try to stay calm. I’ll be back in five minutes, OK?”

  “Thanks, Tasha,” I say.

  She nods, and walks out the door.

  While I’m waiting for her to return, my thoughts are racing wildly.

  I can’t tell Dylan. I just know I can’t.

  Somehow, I’ve already convinced myself that I’m pregnant, even without the test. After all, all the signs point towards me being pregnant.

  But how is this possible? After all, I’m on the pill. I’ve taken it every day since my first year when I got myself a prescription at the health center.

  But…oh shit…

  Now that I think about it, there might have been a few days this last month that I forgot to take it. I mean, I was so busy with finals and working that it might have slipped my mind once or twice. Or maybe a few more times than that.

  How could I do this to myself?

  I can’t blame Dylan, though. After all, he wasn’t even going to have sex until I told him it was completely safe, and that I was on birth control.

  He’s going on to the pros. He’s going to have a ton of things to worry about. He can’t start off the first year of his career caring for a baby, while I go out and work?

  What in the world will we do?

  There’s just no way I can see it working between us if we throw a baby into the picture. We’re supposed to be just young adults, new graduates, without serious responsibilities.

  Why am I always stuck with all the responsibilities that none of my peers seem to have? Why is everything always so much harder for me?

  I begin to cry, my head in my hands, as I become overwhelmed with all the pressures that have plagued me the last four years: paying for my own tuition, the debts, the stress of school, being lonely, incredibly lonely.

  “Lauren!” says Tasha, coming back into the room, holding a small cardboard box from the health center. “It’s OK, Lauren. Come on, go down to the bathroom and wash your face and take the test. Come on, you don’t even know if you’re pregnant yet. And if you are, it’s not that bad. You’ve got Dylan, right? He seems like a really nice guy, and I’m sure he won’t abandon you.”

  “I already know I’m pregnant,” I say, crying into my hands.

  “Come on, Lauren,” says Tasha, leading me by the arm out of the dorm room and down the hallway to the girls’ bathroom.

  She gets me to the sink and helps me wash my face.

  “Thanks,” I manage to say. “I really appreciate your help, Tasha.”

  “Let’s get you into the stall,” she says. “Do you know how to do this?”

  I nos. I’ve never done it myself before, but I’ve read up on the subject in case I ever needed to do it, not that I’ve really had enough sex during my college years to make the research worth my while.

  I pee onto it, and come out of the stall, holding it away from my body, gingerly with just two fingers, with the little window facing away from me. I’m scared to look at it.

  “Here,” says Tasha. “Give it to me.” She takes it from my hand and watches it intently, brushing her long black hair behind her ears so that she can see more clearly.

  “What does it say?” I say, my voice trembling.

  “It’s positive,” she says.

  “You mean I’m pregnant?” I say, tears already welling in my eyes.

  “Look, Lauren, this isn’t a bad thing. I mean, bringing a new life into the world. That’s a huge deal, right?”

  But I’m already crying. I know in a way that she’s right, but it all just feels too real to me. I may be strong and self sufficient, but can I really deal with this, with the responsibility of having a new life on my hands?

  “It’s going to be OK, Lauren. But let’s get practical. You need to tell, Dylan, right?”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “What do you mean? You don’t think you should tell him? Why in the world not?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “It’s going to be too much for him. He has his career to worry about. And he’s not going to want to be with me or live with me if we have a kid to take care of.”

&
nbsp; “Come on, Lauren, that’s completely crazy. I’ve seen you two together, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen any couple more in love than you two.”

  “We just met a couple weeks ago,” I say.

  “Two weeks ago, exactly,” says Tasha.

  I nod. Why does she have to bring that up again? I already know I’m pregnant.

  “That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to help you out with this,” says Lauren. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from taking all these incredibly hard math classes is that there’s always a solution, no matter what, no matter how impossible the problem seems at the time. All you have to do is keep a cool head and try to stay calm.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I say, my head in my hands again, crying my eyes out.

  8

  Dylan

  “We’re so excited to meet her,” says my mom.

  It’s the first thing she says to me.

  My dad is just nodding and smiling along.

  Honestly, they seem happier that I’ve finally met someone than they did when I got drafted for Washington.

  “So she’s going to be moving out West with you, eh, son?” says my dad. “Way to catch ‘em early. I’m proud of you. You know, you’ve had your fun chasing tail all over campus.

  “Frank,” says my mom, giving him a slight slap on the wrist. “Don’t talk that way.”

  “What?” says my dad. “I’m just being honest. I mean, before I met you I was kind of a wild man myself.”

  “If you call being in the drama club being a wild man, then sure, I can believe it.” My mom has a way of being about as sarcastic as you can get, but only when speaking to my dad.

  “Trust me, drama kids party,” says my dad, giving me a big wink. But I’m not so sure. I’m not sure who to believe.

  “So you want to take you guys to your hotel?” I say. “You got the one right by campus, right?”

  They nod. “Well,” says my mom. “What about stopping by the campus first?”

  “Why do you want to do that? You’ve already seen my dorm room a thousand times on all the parents’ weekends.”