Friends With Benefits

Chapter 15 (part 1)

Don't think about it, Tamara.

I felt my tummy timidly, running my fingers over my fevered skin under the material of my cotton t-shirt. Still a little bloated, I thought tiredly. At first when I'd felt sick, I'd assumed it to be cramps, given the hardness of my stomach. I was due my period sometime soon, I knew. I hadn't really been keeping track lately - I'd had so much on my mind, I couldn't have expected myself to. Maybe it was just overly bad PMS symptoms, I pondered, just the result of stress made worse by my time of the month. It would be gone soon, I hoped. This constant vomiting was really taking it out of me.

I sat there a while longer, reluctant to return to the wild, penetrating eyes of the people in that small, cramped studio. None of them really cared about me. They were only there because the label employed them. These days, though, I didn't really enjoy being around any kind of people whether they liked me or not. Lying in the dark in my apartment sounded unbelievably appealing. I realised, with a sudden pang of guilt and sadness, what a hermit I'd suddenly become.

My mind wandered aimlessly, trying my best to lose time, and I wondered when exactly my period was due. This week, certainly, given it had been a while since my last. I began counting back the weeks in my head, though it hurt to think of the last few months. It hurt to think about him.

As I counted back distractedly in my head, my gaze focused vaguely on a dazed looking fly that buzzed around the light on the ceiling, moving in perfect straight lines. I lost my place and began counting again, finding that I'd reached some ridiculous number like fifty two. That was stupid, and I'd obviously not been concentrating, so I began again, this time ignoring the fly that spun in circles around the bulb on the roof.

...2 weeks...14 days...21 days...28...35?

My brow furrowed as I tried to remember, tried to scower my memory for my last period. I realised with sudden horror...it had been before I'd left him.

And the last time I'd seen him had been two months ago.

I tried not to let myself panic as I sa up straight, counting calmly, rhythmically. I must have made a mistake, I told myself. I wasn't concentrating well enough.

...28 days...35...56...60 days...65.

I took deep breaths as the number reverberated through my mind, my heart beating furiously against my ribs, my stomach feeling queasy now for an entirely different reason.

65 days. Today was a Thursday. The day I'd left him had been a Thursday. 8 exact weeks since I'd seen him last. It had been over a week then since I'd had my period, around 10 days if I could remember right. That meant it had been 65 days since I'd last...

My mind stuttered on the words, not wanting to admit the truth that now flooded my thoughts, my feelings, my veins. Panic flowed freshly through me as I racked my brains for the moment when Harry had paused to put on a condom that day. I couldn't remember it.

Deep down I knew it was because it had never happened.

It suddenly hit me what this meant. What if I was...what if...God, I couldn't even think the end of my sentence without feeling sick. For the first time in two months, I allowed the image of his face to swim in my head, and I imagined having to tell him that I...that I was...

Well, what would he do? What would he say, after me leaving him drowning in tears? I hadn't spoken to him in a whole two months. How would I ever tell him?

Oh hey, Harry, I know I broke your heart into smithereens and told you I wanted you out of my life, but I'm kind of a tiny bit pregnant and I thought you should know...

I'd forced myself not to think of him since that last day, forced his face out of my mind every night as I fell asleep. I'd forced him out of my life, led him on and then let him fall like he meant nothing to me. Would he take me back purely for the sake of a baby?

It was clear from the papers that he'd moved on. With some slinky little brunette. A model, I think it had said. The paparazzi caught them kissing, hands all over each other, and I wondered if he ever thought of me these days. Probably not, was my inevitable conclusion, when he could have any girl he liked.

Would he even want me if I was? Why would he destroy his life and career for a liability like me? Maybe he'd tell me to get rid of it, because he was getting on with his life. I asked myself if I would want to get rid of it. I didn't really have an answer.

My memory kicked into gear and my mind recoiled in sudden terror as another thought flashed to my head.

Josh.

Oh Holy Mother of God, what about Josh? I could hardly remember if he'd bothered using protection, I'd been so out of it when I was with him, so uncaring. Even if he had, condoms could split, couldn't they? These things happened...

My body filled with terror at the thought of carrying a baby belonging to him. He meant nothing to me, he was a cheap fling...I couldn't have a child with him! At least if it was Harry, I had a base for feelings for him. I could make it work with Harry. With Josh...I'd barely had a conversation with him. What would I do if it was his?

No, Tamara, No! Don't think like that! Stress can stop your periods....it could still be stress.

Or it could be pregnancy.

The word alone scared me shitless, and I felt my pulse race unavoidably as a thousand conclusions ran through my clouded head. My hand felt it's way to my rounded stomach, and I no longer though of the word bloated.

Without really meaning to, my brain swamped with images of a tiny, peachy skinned baby, wrapped in white, cradled safely in my arms. Gurgling quietly as it wrapped its tiny hand around my finger, blinking open its little eyelids. Emerald green eyes. Just like his.

A thousand thoughts flew through my head, questions on a constant stream...

What if Harry was the father?

Worse - What if Harry wasn't the father?

My hand flitted across my stomach, and I imagined the feeling of a tiny kick beneath my fingers. The worst thought of all of them. What if I was going to be a mother?