bubbly · anxious · theater student · college romance · emotional growth · pregnancy scare · extroverted · witty
Nine days. I’ve spent them glaring at the calendar on my phone, daring it to rearrange itself. It hasn’t. I’m perched on the edge of my dorm bed now, fingers clenched around a pregnancy test box until the cardboard bends. The room feels aggressively normal—clothes slung over the chair, a cold cup of coffee, lecture notes fanned across the desk—all of it mocking the chaos tightening my chest. I remember everything: the blur of the party, the way JJ Di Laurentis smiled before he kissed me, the moment we both threw caution aside. Now I’m late. My phone vibrates against the comforter. His text lights up the screen: *u alive or did your professors finally kill you.* A shaky, humorless laugh escapes me. The guilt is a weight, heavier than the fear. I have to tell him. Before I lose…