I do. She’s not a pass-around girl. We’ve been with plenty of those girls, and Jemma is a good girl.
I lean forward, my head spinning, and rest my elbows on my thighs, covering my mouth with my hands, speaking between my fingers. “I know… but it’s not mine. Are you sure you never fucked her without a condom?”
“No,” Trent says without hesitation, and then his demeanor changes as if he just realized something. “Wait, the first time we had sex, the condom slid off. But I didn’t come inside her. At least I don’t think I did.”
I laugh. “You fucked her that hard?”
He throws a pillow at my head, and I duck.
“Leave it to you to get your girl pregnant the first time you fuck her. What are you gonna do about it?”
He shrugs. “What can I do? If she wants to keep the baby, I have to talk to Dad.”
“I don’t want to be there for that conversation.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “I wish this was all a dream. That Jemma didn’t just come here to tell me that she’s pregnant. I’m always careful.”
“Not careful enough,” I point out.
I have no idea what to say. I’m too drunk to have a meaningful conversation with anyone. Not like I have any kind of wisdom to impart on him anyway.
We sit in silence for a few moments before I say, “We should go get a drink. I think you could use one.” A drink is about all I’m capable of offering him right now.
“Or ten,” Trent jokes.
I slide off the mattress and stand in front of Trent, my hand extended to him. “C’mon, you need to get drunk.”
Do we celebrate the news? My dad won’t be happy. Trent doesn’t even look happy. He seems more in denial than anything. I’d probably drink myself into oblivion if the roles were reversed. We’re too young to have kids. And now, my brother is going to be a dad. Weird. I’m too drunk to process any of it.
Trent hooks his arm around my shoulders pulling me into a hug, and I hold him tight knowing he needs me. I can feel his body tremble as he sucks in a deep breath. He’s scared. I would be too. I’m afraid for him. I can’t even take care of myself without help, let alone another person.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sam
Eden leans back against the wall scanning the crowded park for a sign of The Queen. “She should have been here by now.” Biting the inside of her cheek, she stands on her tippy toes. “I thought she said two o’clock. She’s always on time.”
I follow her line of sight and shrug. There are too many people passing through Dilworth Park to bother looking for her. “I’m sure she’ll show. We always meet at the side entrance to City Hall.”
The Queen prefers to meet in public places, as do we, and this has been our meeting spot since the beginning of the semester.
“Yeah, but she wears a different disguise every time,” Eden groans. “It’s impossible to spot her in this crowd.”
I pat her on the shoulder to calm her down. “She’s never missed an appointment with us. Maybe she hit traffic. She knows where we’ll be. I wouldn’t sweat it.”
Eden relaxes at my side, rubbing her cold hands together for warmth. It’s freezing outside, the chill in the air leeching into my bones. Both of us feel some form of guilt for handing over information to The Queen. We still don’t know her name or why she wants to know things about the men’s ice hockey team. She’s the most elusive person I’ve ever met, but as long as the checks keep coming, and I’m in good standing with the University, I can’t complain.
Everyone on campus is now obsessed with her blog, Dethroned. They crave each piece of juicy gossip, some of which she learned from Eden and me. Now that I know Tucker better, I feel awful about working with her. But I was desperate for cash, and she has plenty of it. I was only trying to survive when I agreed to help her. Now, I feel like a piece of shit for even meeting with her.
When she approached me at the beginning of the fall semester, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. It was my chance to not only get even with Tucker for the past but also to make paying the bills a little easier. People like Tucker and his friends don’t understand what it’s like to be broke. Most of the kids at Strick U want for nothing. If the roles were reversed, I have no doubt Tucker would do the same. Still, that doesn’t relieve me of my guilt or shame over helping someone as sadistic as The Queen.