by Amy Brent
But it was my first time. No one gets pregnant on their first time, right? That only happens in the movies, or in those pamphlets the abstinence people hand out in front of churches? I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done it.
Maybe I wasn’t ready. I thought I was.
I don’t know what I’m going to do now.
Steven will be so mad at me.
I looked up at Allie. She was watching me without blinking. Her eyes were wet, and her hands were clasped together under her chin. I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say that would summarize how I was feeling.
She had fucked my brother ten years ago, and neither of them had said a word of it since.
Allie sniffed and wiped her eyes. “The next page. Keep reading.”
I didn’t want to. For God’s sake, I didn’t want to. But I did. I turned the page and kept going.
Saturday, August 21st
I’m pregnant. I’m pretty sure. I didn’t want to write anything until now because putting it on paper makes it feel so real. I can’t believe I let this happen. How could I have been so stupid? All because I wanted to know what sex was like. I wanted to know what I was missing out on.
I told Andrew. He’s scared, I can tell. He’s scared, but he’s being so kind.
He told me he would help me. He said he would stand by me, no matter what happened. He even offered to tell my parents with me. He offered to tell Steven for me.
I couldn’t let him do that.
I couldn’t let Steven find out like that.
I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’m only sixteen. I can’t do this.
Thursday, August 26th
I skipped fourth period today. Andrew picked me up at the park and drove me to the clinic. He had booked me an appointment with the doctor to get a pregnancy test. He said it would be better if we knew for sure, then we could plan appropriately. He said I needed to take care of myself if I was pregnant.
He sat with me while the doctor went and did the test. I was so scared. He hugged me while I cried. He made me feel better.
When the doctor came back, he told us the results were negative. I’ve never felt so relieved. I couldn’t believe it. Everything is okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’m not pregnant. Andrew and I are so relieved.
After, when we were sitting in his car, Andrew asked me what I wanted to do about the whole thing.
I told him I didn’t want anyone to ever find out. Especially Steven. No one could ever know what had happened. Andrew promised me that he wouldn’t say a word to anyone. I hope he can keep that promise.
Dear Diary. Things will be okay. I won’t ever make this mistake again. I’m going to be okay.
I felt like I had just been punched in the gut by a fist made of rock. Allie was still standing in front of me teary eyed. She spoke my name softly. I didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything I could say right now that wouldn’t hurt her.
I wanted to yell. I wanted to break something.
Instead, I closed the diary and put it on the counter. Well, no, I slammed it down. Allie jumped and sniffled, and I brushed by her and made for the door.
“Steven!” she cried after me, racing down the hall behind me. She reached out and caught the sleeve of my shirt. “Please don’t go. Please stay. We need to talk about this. I’m so sorry I never told you. But please, try to understand, this was ten years ago. I was foolish. I didn’t—”
“Not now Allie,” I growled as I put my boots on.
I left, ignoring Allie’s cries for me to come back so we could talk. No talking would get rid of the rage burning in my chest.
Chapter 12
Allie
I never should have let Steven read my diary entries about his older brother, Andrew. The look on his face last night had crushed me. I knew how much I had hurt him. He hadn’t even been able to look at me when he was leaving. He had slammed the door behind him and ignored me when I ran out after him.
I had hoped, in vain, that he might call me before he went to bed. I had thought there might be a chance that once he cooled down, he might be able to talk about it.
I had been wrong.
Now, I was sitting in my bed, my eyes swollen from crying for the last three hours, willing for him to call me. I knew he wouldn’t.
Eventually, I decided to make the first move. I called him, holding my phone to my ear with a shaking hand, hoping he would give me a chance to explain. He didn’t answer. I tried one more time fifteen minutes later to receive a worse result: my call went straight to voicemail.
I curled up and started to cry. I had ruined the best thing in my life in one painful strike. When things had finally started to look good for me, I had destroyed it. I thought of Steven’s face as he read the diary.
I hadn’t destroyed us. I had destroyed him.
I woke to my phone ringing a couple hours later. I had literally cried myself into a fitful sleep after not being able to sleep all night long. The call was from Andrew. I stared at the screen in shock for a moment before I answered.
“Hey Andrew,” I croaked, my throat aching from sobbing.
“What the hell Allie? You told him? I thought we both agreed that we weren’t ever going to say anything about it!”
“I know, I’m sorry. I had to.”
“A heads up would have been nice. He just showed up at my place and threw a bloody tantrum. I thought he was going to hit me. Why did you open your mouth?”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, closing my eyes and rolling onto my back. “Things have changed between Steven and me over the last little bit. We love each other. At least, I love him. I don’t know how he feels now. I had to tell him. I couldn’t keep the secret.”
“Well, you made a mistake, Allie. He told me he never wants to see either of us again. And you know what? I believe him. He’s furious.”
I fought not to cry. I couldn’t break down on the phone with Andrew. That wouldn’t help anyone. “I can’t talk with you right now Andrew, I’m sorry.” I hung up the phone, threw it across the room with an angry and devastated shout, and then fell face first into my pillow where I proceeded to cry my eyes out.
What had I done? Why had I said anything?
I cried for me. I cried for Steven. Who knew where he was. He was probably as hurt by this as I was. He had been the one who was blindsided, not me. I had been the one intentionally keeping him in the dark for years. Maybe I deserved this pain.
Steven didn’t.
Some twenty minutes later, once I had myself under control, I called Melissa. She answered the phone cheerfully, and then grew quiet when she heard my sniffling. “Allie?” she asked softly. “Oh no, Allie, what’s the matter? What’s happened?”
So I told her everything. I told her how Steven had reacted when he found out. I told her how badly I had hurt him. And I told her what Steven had said to Andrew.
“Allie, hush, it’s okay. I know this is hard, but Steven needed to know. He was going to find out eventually.”
“No!” I said, my voice rising. “Maybe he wouldn’t have! Maybe it would have all been fine. Maybe he wouldn’t hate me right now.”
“Allie,” Melissa said sharply. “Come on. Don’t pull that on me. You know just as well as I do that this needed to be out in the open. That’s why you told him in the first place. I didn’t make you do anything. You know this was the right thing to do. You still know it was.”
“No, I don’t,” I said, regressing into more sobbing.
Melissa was quiet on the other end. I could hear her breathing as she considered her next words. She was a thoughtful person, never saying anything she didn’t mean, having poised control over herself. It was a skill I wished I had. Maybe I wouldn’t have blown it with Steven. I would have been honest with him years ago.
Finally, Melissa started talking again.
“Allie, the wound is fresh right now. You can’t be so hard on yourself. You know Steven better than you know anyone. He’ll come around. He cares for you as much as you c
are for him. He always has. The problem is, he hasn’t ever been good at accepting his feelings. I know how empty this sounds, but you have to keep your chin up. You did the right thing. That’s why this is so hard.”
I chewed my bottom lip as I fought with myself not to succumb to tears again. “I shouldn’t have told him.”
I could practically hear Melissa rolling her eyes on the other end. “Well, you did, and it’s done.”
“I know. And I hurt him. I never wanted to hurt him. And this is all over something that happened ten years ago. And it meant nothing! I should have kept my mouth shut like Andrew and I agreed. Now Steven thinks it’s a way bigger deal than what it is. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid, Allie. Telling him was right. If you love him, which you claim to, you can’t lie to him. Don’t you see how flawed that is?”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s flawed,” I snapped. “What matters is that the person I care about most won’t even talk to me because of something stupid I did when I was sixteen.”
“Well, unfortunately, you can’t control that.”
She wasn’t making me feel any better. Deep down I knew she was right, but I wasn’t ready to hear any of it. It was too fresh. “I have to go,” I said. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I can’t talk about this right now.”
“Okay, Allie. It will all be alright. Hang in there. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said before hanging up the phone and putting it on my nightstand. I sighed and rolled onto my back, clasping my hands behind my head. I stared up at the white speckled ceiling and thought about Steven.
I wondered what he was doing right now. Chances were high that he was at work. But a little part of me hoped he was lying on his own bed thinking about me; aching the same way I was.
Instantly, I hated myself for hoping he was hurting. I had done this to him. This was my fault. I had earned this heartache all on my own. Well, sort of on my own. Andrew had helped.
I glanced at my diary. The yellow spine was sticking out like it wanted me to reach for it. So I did. I pulled it free and rolled onto my stomach. After grabbing a pen from the drawer of the nightstand, I flipped through the pages to the next blank one. Then I sat, pen poised over the paper, and started writing.
Sunday, October 8th
Steven knows about Andrew. I messed up. I let him read the entries I wrote surrounding when I thought I was pregnant. He had no idea, and now he’s furious with me.
I can’t blame him. He was blindsided. It was his brother, after all, and his best friend who did this to him. For two whole weeks, we were positive that we were going to be parents. And I never said a word to Steven. Of course, he’s hurt. And probably confused.
I’ll never be able to forget his face when he read the entry. He was staring down at it like someone had come out of the page and punched him in the gut. I saw all the confusion and bewilderment morph into betrayal. Anger. Fury.
Then he was leaving. I couldn’t do anything to stop him. He wouldn’t even look at me. He just left.
Andrew called me and told me Steven showed up at his house furious. Steven yelled at him. He said he never wanted to see Andrew or me again.
I can’t live with never seeing Steven again. I need him. I thought he needed me too. But maybe what I did was too much for him to forgive.
I don’t know what to do. If he never talks to me again, I don’t know how I’ll be able to move on. I love him.
I’ve always loved him.
By the time I finished writing, I was crying again. I had hoped the entry would be therapeutic, but it only brought up more pain.
I curled in on myself and let the sobs come. They shook me until my throat was raw and my ribs ached. My eyes were puffy and swollen, and all the pressure behind them and in my sinuses brought on a terrible headache. Despite the pain, I continued crying. I cried until there were no more tears left to shed, and I was nothing but a hollow body in the fetal position on my bed.
Then I fell into a restless sleep. I woke every hour or so, remembered everything that had happened, and cried myself to sleep again.
I had never been so broken.
Chapter 13
Steven
My dreams had been of her. We were lying on a bed that didn’t belong to either of us. The sheets were a brilliant white silk that glowed despite the room we were in being lit only by the flickering of a single candle.
Allie was on top of me. My hands were on her hips. She was rocking against me gently, grinding her hips in slow circles. Her back was arched, and she was looking up at the ceiling, showing me her slender throat and lifting her breasts. Her long hair hung down her back like a dark curtain, and the ends of it grazed the top of my thighs.
There was nothing to do but watch her; there was nothing else I wanted to do. She never quickened her rhythm. She was steady and controlled, even as she grew breathless. A song had started to play. At first, it sounded far away. It continued to play as Allie rolled her neck and looked down at me. She braced herself with her hands on my chest. I closed my eyes as she slid up and down my cock. Her pussy had been so tight, so wet, so welcoming.
I felt the insides of her thighs quiver against the outside of mine when she came. A sweet moan fell from her parted lips, and she bowed her head, her hair falling over her shoulders to tickle my chest. I held her down on my cock, pushing myself into her as deeply as I could, as the last tremors rippled through her.
My name was on her lips. She whispered it, over and over, as I continued to fuck her. Her head rolled back again. I reached up to cup her breasts. They filled my empty palms as she continued to grind against me.
Then the song grew louder, and Allie felt farther away.
She rode me harder, but I could barely feel it. She became less tangible, and I couldn’t feel her breasts in my hands anymore. It was like I was clutching air. Desperation tickled my throat. I felt alone, somehow, despite knowing she was there.
The song was louder again. I recognized it. It was something I heard all the time.
I woke up disoriented and rock hard to the tune of my alarm clock. Lingering images of Allie riding me flickered behind my eyelids as I lay in bed. I wasn’t ready to leave them behind.
So I reached over to the table beside my bed, fumbled to open the drawer, and withdrew a tube of lotion I kept on hand for such occasions. I pumped some into my palm, then threw the blanket aside with my other hand. I ran the lotion over my cock, the slick sensation of it nearly too intense at the tip.
As I fisted my cock, I closed my eyes and pictured Allie lying with me again. I thought of her milky thighs, spread wide for me as she lay on her back upon that glowing white silk. She was rubbing herself, gentle and steady, pausing only to hold her swollen clit between two fingers. After a second or two, she would release and cascade back into the circular rhythm she liked so much.
My hips twisted as my arousal heightened. I edged my fingers over the tip of my cock, making a slippery mess out of lotion and pre-cum. A low groan escaped me, and I focused more intently on my vision of Allie.
She was still on her back. Her eyes were heavy, and her lips were parted as she moaned softly. She reached out with one hand, beckoning me closer. I obliged, leaning over her, my cock settling between her thighs and pressing up against her wet pussy. She was swollen and ready.
As I eased into her in my mind, my hips bucked. Hot lines of semen dashed up my stomach and chest. I lay back, letting my tense muscles settle into the comfort of the mattress. Then I grabbed tissues from the box on the nightstand and cleaned myself up.
After, in the bathroom, my lustful thoughts of Allie were replaced by more unsettling ones of her and Andrew. Of him filling her up. Of him shooting his load in her. Of both of them, lying together in his bed wrapped up around one another like snakes.
Feeling instantly angry again, I showered. The steam and hot water did nothing to ease my mind.
I couldn’t help but feel a tightness in my
gut. It was something I hadn’t felt in a long time—not since Kyla, at least. Betrayal. It hurt more than I remembered. Something felt different this time. It was more than likely because this time it was Allie who had stabbed me in the back. The one person I believed in more than anyone had ripped my heart in half.
I hated how dramatic I was being. I resented the hot anger and the emotions that had been brewing inside me since reading the entry in Allie’s diary about her and Andrew fucking. Dammit. I wanted nothing more than to bury it all and move on. I wanted to forget.
As I dried off, my anger hardened. Andrew had been twenty-two. What was he thinking, having sex with a sixteen-year-old? When I had confronted him the other day, he explained that it had been legal, but it had also been a mistake nonetheless. It was one they both wanted to take back, apparently. Andrew had tried to assure me that it was a one-time thing that they both regretted and never did again. His words meant nothing.
What was worse was he had fucked her when she was drunk. Sixteen and drunk. He should have known better. He should have controlled himself. Of course, Allie was beautiful. She always had been. But she had deserved more than that. Her first time was with someone she hadn’t loved, in a bedroom that smelled like Axe and old shin pads, on sheets that probably hadn’t been washed in four weeks.