I grab the throw blanket off the end of Colton’s bed and wrap it around myself before slipping out of his bedroom. It’s just past five-thirty in the morning and I’m sure he’ll be waking up soon for his usual morning workout and when that happens, I don’t want him to see the devastation on my face. I feel like every time he looks at me lately, that’s all he sees. It’s just one hit after another and I don’t know how much more I can take.
I trudge through the quiet mansion and take myself up to the private living area that Colton had shown me the night of the Gatsby party. I open the massive windows and drop down on the wide couch, pulling the throw blanket tighter around my body as I look out at the impressive property.
My phone rests in my hand, feeling heavier than it ever should have the right to feel. I try to calm my wild emotions but find it near impossible. I never used to be like this. This isn’t me. I’ve always had control of my emotions. I’ve always been able to reel them in and put a lid on it, except I just can’t anymore. I’ve been a mess.
I try to go over my options with a clear mind and realize that they’re not great. I could try to pay as I go to get through the first semester without running out of cash, or I could ask Colton for help.
Fuck. These options suck harder than a prostitute attending a private party for the Bellevue Springs elite.
I remain curled up on the couch, just staring out the window until the early morning sun is peeking through and hitting me right in the eyes. I glance down at my phone and realize that I've been sitting here for nearly two hours.
My bladder is screaming at me and after waking up to find I’m not in his bed, I'm sure Colton would be worried, though it’s not like he’s blown up my phone yet.
I pull myself off the couch but as I go, a cramp tears through my lower stomach and I groan in pain, instantly dropping back down onto the couch. Either my bladder is really, really full, and is now angry with me or I’m finally getting my period.
I’ve suffered from PCOS and have had irregular periods since I first hit puberty and to be completely honest, it freaking sucks. Other women have it so much worse than me and it completely affects their lives. Me, I just have to put up with not knowing when my period will come. Sometimes it’s right on schedule and will be there every month, other times, I could go for six months without it. It’s been a solid three months since my last one but I’m really not surprised. I'm sure all the stress and bullshit I’ve been through lately also has something to do with that.
The cramp finally eases and I try getting up again, this time being able to find my feet without any added drama and I thank my body for complying for once.
Dropping the blanket onto the couch, I make my way into the closest bathroom and quickly glance around. I haven’t been in this one before. It’s actually kinda nice in here, though definitely on the larger side of things. I really don’t get why Charles insisted on building a house with so many bedrooms and bathrooms. There’s no way he could ever have had a use for it all. I also don’t understand the need for having more bathrooms in a house than bedrooms. That just boggles my mind.
Being the nosey bitch that I am, I find myself peeking in the cupboards and roll my eyes at how it’s fully stocked. There are shampoos, conditioners, body washes. I mean, who is actually going to use this stuff? I don’t think anyone else has actually stepped foot into this bathroom since before Charles was killed by my supposedly best friend.
I open the drawer next and find more menstrual supplies than any woman could ever need and I search through the options, you know … just in case. There’s nothing worse than having your period come up and surprise you, only to find yourself not prepared.
As I search through all the products and stare at a diva cup in horror, my fingers brush over a box that has my world coming to a standstill.
Pregnancy tests.
My brow arches. If I’m going to be technical, then yes, it’s a possibility—but it’s on the lower end. Having PCOS makes it difficult for me to get pregnant anyway so the chances are slim, yet for some reason, I find myself picking up the box.
Colton and I have been having unprotected sex which in itself is fucking stupid, but it couldn’t hurt to take the test anyway. In the grand scheme of things, I guess it’s better to know than to leave it. What’s one wasted test? Besides, I know those cramps all too well. It’s definitely my period coming and judging by how bad it hurt, it’s going to be a nasty one.
I take the box, as well as all my other supplies over to the toilet with me and sit my ass down. The cool porcelain stings my ass for the slightest moment as it gets accustomed to the chill. Desperate to pee, I tear the box apart and quickly glance over the test. I’ve seen chicks do this in movies all the time. You just hold it down there, pee on it, and wait, right? It couldn't be that hard.
Feeling confident that I’m overthinking things, I get it over and done with before finishing up on the toilet. I find myself glancing at the bidet that almost seems to be
