Knocked Up

by Nikki Chase

  “So you decided to give me your virginity based on some gossip?”

  “Well, no, I thought I was just going to talk to you, but then… Then it turned into something else.” I bite my bottom lip and look up at him from under my eyelashes, hoping we can end this conversation and just get back to fucking.

  I don’t need things to get any more intense emotionally. But my body can take anything he gives me.

  A smile spreads across Gabe's cheeks. “I see. You just couldn't resist me, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I return his smile.

  Just as I’d hoped, Gabe pulls me into his arms and gives me a passionate kiss. I fight the urge to melt into his arms and give into his lips.

  Instead, I turn around to face the ocean and rub the front of Gabe’s pants with my palm. He’s already hard.

  I look back at him over my shoulder, maintaining eye contact as I slide my panties down my legs and step out of them.

  I raise my hand behind me, place it behind his neck, and pull him close. I stick my ass out until I feel his hard-on.

  As I let out a small moan, Gabe flips up the back of my skirt.

  “You're wet, angel,” he says in a hoarse voice as he runs his fingers over my pussy lips.

  “Yeah. I’m ready for you.” I grind my ass back against Gabe.

  I hear his groan and the sound of his fly being unzipped, and I know I’ve won this round.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper as he spears into me. I hold on to the rough stone of the balustrade and look out into the ocean.

  I’m glad he can't see my face right now, because a tear has just escaped my right eye. It dries quickly in the cool breeze.

  I need Gabe to fuck the pain out of my heart, until all I can feel is the pain he inflicts on my body, and the pleasure that's bound to follow.

  “Hurt me,” I whisper, and he does.

  He pinches my nipple and bites the back of my neck until I sigh and whimper.

  This hurts so good.

  Jacqueline

  “Come on in,” I hear Mom’s voice filter through my bedroom door, “it’s my son’s birthday.”

  Oh, no.

  Is Mom roping yet another innocent guy into her weird birthday bit?

  This used to be embarrassing, but now it’s just sad and exhausting.

  I’d go out and give that guy a helping hand, but I’m kind of busy right now, and I’m running late.

  I glare at my hair in the mirror. Why won’t you curl like I want you to?

  My arms are already getting tired from holding my hair up, curling it, and sticking one hairpin after another into it. And I still have another section to get through.

  But I can’t just stop now. I’d draw too much attention—in the wrong way—if I were to show up with 75% of my hair in an elegant updo and the remaining 25% falling stick straight the way it usually does.

  I mean, Karen and I aren’t supposed be there in the first place.

  We’re taking her parents’ spots so it’s not like we’re crashing the party, but we have a long day at the hospital tomorrow and we really should be having an early night. We’d get lots of frowns if we’re spotted by one of the residency directors, who will definitely be there.

  I really shouldn’t go. If I start partying and staying out late now, in the first month of my medical residency, what’s next? Before I know it, I’ll be missing my shifts, getting fired, and joining the throngs of millennials all over the country who can’t find jobs.

  At least one person in the house should have her shit together.

  With my hair finally done, I grab my purse and take one last look at myself in the mirror.

  Even though my arms are a little sore, I now have a loose bun of blonde hair on the top of my head and soft, wavy tendrils framing my face.

  I really didn’t want to put so much work into my hair, but it’s the hairstyle that looks best on me. I’ve tried different options: the big, glamorous, Hollywood waves; the simple French twist; the stern, tight bun. I watched so many YouTube tutorials to get my hair just right.

  The bright scarlet of my classy fit-and-flare dress contrasts nicely against my blue eyes. A string of pearls hangs just above my cleavage, and a black satin ribbon bow covers the clasp closure on the back of my neck.

  Keeping my eyes on the mirror, I slip my feet into a pair of black velvet pumps.

  That completes the look. The look that I’ve been putting together the whole month.

  I have to work with what I’ve got, but I think I look pretty good, if I may say so myself. I need all the confidence boosters I can get if I’m going to see him.

  Gabriel Kent.

  Gabe.

  Beautiful, strong, sensitive Gabe.

  Sometimes, I call him “babe” in my head, ever since I overheard a couple calling each other by that pet name when I was ten.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the winner of the Award for Excellence in Medicine this year. I didn’t even know Gabe was back in town. But that’s exactly why I’ve chosen to intern at Hill Crest Hospital–so at least I’d be close to his dad and get the latest info on him.

  Okay, I realize I’m starting to sound like a crazy stalker here, so I should probably also add that it’s a good hospital and there’s a lot of competition for the handful of internship positions available. So it’s not like I’m sacrificing my career for my Gabe obsession.

  “Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you…” The song floats up from downstairs.

  Oh God, I feel so bad for my mom’s latest victim.

  Okay, it’s time to go and save someone now.

  I’m as ready as I can be anyway.

  I step down the stairs, grabbing the railing for balance. I’m not used to wearing heels.

  Damn it.

  I forget how dusty the handrail is. Most of the time, I try not to touch it, but I’m just a bundle of nerves tonight. I rub my palms together to remove the dirt particles.

  I’ve tried to persuade my mom to sell the house. It’s way too big for the three of us to maintain. If we move to a smaller place, we’d save money and have fewer house chores. But she never listens.

  “Oh, you look wonderful, darling,” Mom says when she sees me descending down the stairs. “Did you dress up for Sam’s birthday?”

  My mom is wearing a pair of jeans and a plain white shirt. She used to dress up all the time, but not these days.

  “No, Mom.”

  “That’s a shame.” Mom sticks out her bottom lip. “I got a cake and everything.”

  “I had cake last week, Mom. And the week before that.” My words are punctuated by the staccato sounds my shoes make as they hit the hard marble tiles.

  “Sit down and have a slice, Jackie,” Mom insists.

  “I have somewhere else to go to, and I’m running late.” I shoot an apologetic look at the perplexed guy wearing the UPS uniform and standing awkwardly in our dining room. “In fact, I’m going with—” I read the guy’s name tag “—Bill.”

  The UPS guys’s eyes widen with surprise, but he quickly catches on. “Uh, yeah. That’s right, Ma’am, I have to leave, too.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Mom uses a knife to cut through the cake and puts a slice on a small tea plate. “At least Ray is home,” she says before she yells out my brother’s name.

  I glare at my brother as he emerges from his bedroom, his hair a mess.

  “What?” he asks when he sees my expression.

  “You were here the whole time? Couldn’t you have put a stop to this?” I speak softly through gritted teeth so Mom won’t hear.

  “Hey, cake is cake.” Ray shrugs.

  Jerk.

  I have to do everything around here. I hate being the fun police, but without me everything would crumble. It seems unless the house is literally burning down, nothing matters to Ray.

  Last year, when Mom bought a huge, 55-gallon aquarium because “Sam likes fish,” I knew it was going to be trouble. And not just because we couldn’t afford it.
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  I was in the middle of important exams so I decided to let things go for a while. I thought Ray was bound to do something at some point.

  But as the water went from cloudy to murky, it became clear that neither Mom nor Ray was going to do anything. By the time I found someone to take the massive tank off our hands, it had become a festering pool of algae.

  So even though I don’t like spending my days off fending off crises, someone has to do it.

  “Come on, Bill.” I look over my shoulder at the UPS guy.

  “Yeah.” As Bill follows me out of the dining room, his eyes are glued to the doll sitting at the dinner table, staring blankly at the birthday cake through its beady eyes.

  I open the door and step outside, where the air is nice and fresh. I take a deep breath and apologize to Bill the UPS guy with a simple “sorry.”

  “Yeah, no, it’s not a problem.” He looks like he has questions, but he’s too stunned to string together the right sentences to sensitively broach the subject of what the hell has just happened.

  I don’t blame him, but I don’t have time to give him an explanation either.

  It would take too long to tell him a list of things that are wrong with my family. It would take an entire novel.

  And my ride is here.

  It’s time for me to see Gabe.

  Jacqueline

  Oh my God.

  Gabe’s even more of a babe now.

  I mean, he’s always had good looks. He’s tall, dark, and he’s quiet in a way that makes him seem intriguing—like he’s got a lot of mysterious things buried inside, just waiting to be released.

  I’ve always wanted to be the person he shares his hidden thoughts with. That would be such a privilege.

  I still yearn for that privilege now.

  He’s older now, obviously. He was twenty-four last time I saw him, not long after It happened, so he must be thirty-two now.

  I can’t pinpoint exactly which parts of his face have changed because he looks exactly the way he always has, and yet he appears different somehow. More mature. More dignified.

  His voice has grown deeper, I realize, as I listen to the list of accomplished doctors Gabe is thanking.

  He definitely looks like he belongs under the spotlight, with his solid figure, his strong jaw, and his high cheekbones.

  But there’s an unease about him, almost like he doesn’t feel like he belongs. His outer demeanor, gruff and unfriendly, makes him seem far away.

  But I can see the old Gabe inside that beautiful man. The kind, sensitive Gabe.

  My heart jumps in my chest as he finishes his speech and makes his way down the stage.

  Without the spotlight getting in his eyes, is he going to notice me?

  Does he remember me? Does he remember how the three of us used to get in trouble together?

  Am I old enough for him now?

  And most importantly, is he here with someone?

  My gaze follows his perfect figure as he threads his way between the tables. When he stops and pulls out a chair, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Just old people on either side of him. He doesn’t have a date.

  He doesn’t have a date.

  Every cell in my body thrums with excitement. And anxiety, too.

  I told myself I’d talk to him if he’s here on his own, and now I know he is.

  I raise my glass of champagne and take a gulp. I don’t usually drink, but if I’m going to talk to Gabe tonight, I need all the courage I can get, liquid or otherwise.

  “He’s hot.”

  “Huh?” I tear my gaze away from Gabe.

  “Gabriel Kent. He’s hot.”

  “Oh, he is?”

  Karen chuckles. “Jacqueline, you stared at him for so long that I was starting to worry you’d start drooling.”

  I laugh.

  I’ve known Karen for one month, since we started working at the hospital. I only started to hang out with her because she had the invitations to this event, but it turns out she’s pretty cool.

  “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” I ask.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Karen grins. “Like, half the women in this room had their eyes on him.”

  “Really?” I scan the banquet hall and assess my competition.

  I know women wouldn’t leave a man like Gabe alone. He’s young, successful, good looking, wealthy, and his family has great connections. Marrying him would be a one-way ticket to a life of leisure and luxuries.

  That’s not why I want him, though. I couldn’t care less about all those things. I just miss him.

  I know it’s stupid. Every girl has been infatuated by her brother’s friend, but which idiot holds on to that crush for decades?

  Me. I’m the idiot.

  “Ooh, Brendan Wells is next. He’s really hot, too.” Karen squeals excitedly, running her fingers through her golden brown hair and smoothing out her black sheath dress as if he’s coming to personally see her.

  I give Karen a smile.

  I’m really only interested in Gabe. I don’t even find this Brendan guy attractive, even though the other women in the room seem to disagree with me.

  I can’t tell Karen about my weird obsession with Gabe. She’s the only person I have lunch with. At one month, it’s too early to be letting her know how much of a weirdo I am. I don’t want to have to find someone else to sit with me at the cafeteria.

  “Do you think that suit is Armani?” Karen squints at Brendan Wells as he makes his way to the stage.

  “You don’t have to make any excuses to stare at his butt.” I grin, hiding my disinterest.

  Karen giggles. “Yeah, I don’t actually care what brand that suit is.”

  I take another gulp of my champagne just as the waiter comes by and hold up the empty glass. He comes over to top up my booze supply.

  I cast my gaze around me. “Hey, did you see where Gabe...riel went?”

  “No. Maybe he went home?” Karen asks.

  “Oh, no.”

  “You're really going to talk to him? That's so awesome of you. I wouldn't have the guts to just go up to some hot guy I don't know.”

  “Yeah. That's just how I roll.” I can feel my confidence growing as my alcohol intake goes up.

  I would've told Karen he's a childhood friend, but I figured it would be weird to say, “Oh, you have invites to the award show? Gabriel Kent is my childhood friend. Can I go with you?” Because that would lead her to ask me why I’m not getting my tickets from Gabe instead.

  So I acted like I was a groupie instead. And I got an invite so, you know, the main thing is I’m getting the result I want.

  “Oh, that's him, right?” Karen points to the balcony beyond the row of doors along one wall of the room.

  Through the glass, I see him leaning casually against the balustrade with a thin stick between his fingers. He holds it up to his lips and, a few seconds later, a cloud of white smoke floats out of his month.

  “Ugh,” Karen exclaims, “I hate men who smoke, especially if they're doctors. What kind of an example is he setting for his patients?”

  “Maybe he's not trying to be a role model,” I say before I can stop myself.

  Karen laughs. “Okay. Remind me never to talk shit about Gabriel Kent in front of you.”

  “Sorry, I’m a little distracted.” My gaze flicks between Karen and Gabe.

  I don't want to lose him again. If I let Gabe out of my sight tonight, I don't know how else to find him. What if it takes me another eight years to see him again?

  “Yeah, no kidding.” Karen hands me my champagne glass. “Drink up and go outside already.”

  With a few big gulps, I finish my drink. Normally, I’m terrified to drink even just a tiny drop because I’ve seen what alcohol can do to people. But I’m making an exception tonight.

  “Hope you get laid tonight.” Karen winks.

  Oh God.

  I'm such an idiot I haven't even considered that possibility.

  I mean, of course
I’ve thought about Gabe like that. He's the only man in my dirty fantasies.

  But that's also the reason why I’m still a virgin. To me, sex is not something that happens in the real world.

  But now that Gabe is really back in my life again… I don't know.

  Shit. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk so much champagne.

  This situation would be hard enough to navigate sober. What hope does drunk-me have?

  “Karen.” I pause as I turn to face her on my chair. In despair, I say, “I’m a virgin.”

  Karen’s bursts out laughing. “You could’ve fooled me. The way you were acting, I thought you were some experienced, kick-ass seductress.”

  Sure, I can fool anyone as long as I don’t have to get into bed with them. But what if…

  I mean, if Gabe wants to take me home, I’m not saying no. But then what happens after that, if he wants to…

  Well, I do want him to take my virginity—that has been a recurring fantasy—but what if he finds my lack of experience annoying? What if it’s a turn-off?

  “Oh boy, you’re really worried, aren’t you?” Karen asks when I remain serious.

  I nod.

  “Listen, I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” Karen says. “Just… follow your instincts and everything will be okay.

  “But…” My sentence just hangs in the air as no more words come out. I just stare at Karen, panicked and unable to choose just one question to ask first.

  Shit. My brain doesn’t work.

  This is the worst timing in the history of everything.

  “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just talking to a cute guy. It’s not life and death,” Karen says.

  She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand why this could be a life-destroying disaster.

  Karen puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Look. If there’s anything you really don’t know how to handle, just excuse yourself, say you’re going to the restroom, and find me. I’ll be here.”

  It takes a few seconds for my brain to process Karen’s plan through my alcoholic fog, but once I understand what she means, it sounds like a brilliant idea.

  Yes. I can do this.

  I don’t have to plan for the entire night. I’ll just take it step by step.