It’s been three days since the abortion and three days since I’ve seen Kai. I didn’t want to see him right after because I knew I had to take that second pill and wait for the cramping and heavy bleeding the doctor told me to expect. I spent twenty-four hours sobbing over every painful cramp. If Kai would’ve seen me in pain he would’ve known something was wrong, and I wasn’t ready to have that conversation. I’m still not ready.

He’s been texting and calling nonstop, trying to make plans. I’ve been holding him off the best I can, claiming I’m not on campus when I am because I’m a coward.

My mood since Saturday has taken a sharp decline, which is how I find myself drunk as fuck at one of my teammate’s parties on a Tuesday night. I just want to go back to how I felt right after—numb.

I make the mistake of checking my phone and responding to a text from Kai.

Kai: Olivia, I know you’re back at school since you had class today. Wtf is up?

Me: Up? Nothing. Down? Me.

Kai: What?

Me: LOL idk

Kai: Are you okay?

Me: If u only knew

Ha, that’s a song. Wait a minute, no it’s not. The song is called “If Your Girl Only Knew.” Close enough.

Kai: Where you at?

Me: A palace

Me: A partition*

Me: A partity*

Me: Dammit, a party*

Kai: What building?

Me: You gonna come find me, Kai?

Kai: Always

I send him the building and what I think is the room number of the party and go back to my cup that’s ninety percent tequila and ten percent pineapple Fanta.

“Yo, Olivia,” Kai calls to me. When did he get here? I look him up and down in his black sweatpants, white tee, and Crazy 8s and smile. He smiles back at me but it quickly falls when he gets close to me and smells the alcohol on my breath.

“You’re drinking?” he asks.

“Nothing gets past you, baby,” I coo.

He snatches the red cup from my hands and leans down to my eye level. “Don’t play with me. What the fuck is going on?” His tone drops to a whisper. “You know you can’t drink with the baby.”

“I’m not pregnant anymore,” I blurt out. His eyes widen then soften. He takes my hand, sets my cup on a table near us, and guides me out of the party and down to the common room on the floor. I stumble a couple times but he catches me with ease.

“You lost the baby?”

“I didn’t lose it. I went to the clinic and…you know.” I won’t tell him the whole truth. I can’t. But I won’t have him thinking I miscarried. I don’t deserve his pity.