She liked to be alone here, and yet she texted him.
I’m here, fourth floor, if you want to come down.
He replied a minute later with a blunt, K.
“K,” she muttered. “K, jeez, could he be any cockier?”
She had just opened her books when the door opened at the end of the library and Zack walked in. He was wearing shorts which showed his muscular legs, and a tank top which showed his bulging muscles. He smiled through his thick black beard and walked over to where she sat. He sat next to her, their legs touched, and Jocelyn felt another thrill move through her. She knew it was crazy, and yet she couldn’t help it. Jerk or not, this man really turned her on. She was biting her lip again. Stop it! She did.
Zack smiled that knowing, infuriating smile, that endearing, sexy smile. The smile was as confusing as her sudden and blossoming feelings for him. There was a heat between her thighs that threatened to explode. Jocelyn truly feared for a moment that she would be struck by a spontaneous orgasm, sort of like spontaneous combustion but the fire would be restricted to her pussy. But then she regained control of herself, brought herself back into the real world. She was, she knew, being ridiculous.
“Let’s get on with it, then,” she said, and turned back to her books.
Zack nodded, and turned to his.
They worked until midnight, as the place grew even quieter (the sounds of students from the floors below dying, the sounds of the cleaners vacuuming dissipating). They could have been the only people on the planet. The library often felt like that, Jocelyn had discovered. When it was quiet like this, and her eyes were aching from study, and her mind was whirring with ideas, she’d imagine that she was the last woman alive. But now, she had company. Zack asked a few questions, and Jocelyn gave him the answers. He was much better than she had expected. He asked intelligent questions, and often walked amongst the stacks to find a book on the subject. He didn’t leach from her, and after the first hour Jocelyn was asking him questions, too.
It went on like this for a week. Every night, late, they would meet in the library and talk about books, about characters, prose, literary devices, and always, at the back of her mind, Jocelyn would wonder if he was going to make a move on her. Her suppressed feelings of lust grew, like a great tree sprouting from the earth, growing into her entire being. She watched him when he was reading, when he didn’t know she was watching him. She liked the way his forehead crinkled when he came across a particularly difficult part, and then the way it un-crinkled when she explained it to him. She liked the way he looked at her with complete trust in what she was going to say. She liked the way their legs touched, more often now than on the first night. She was sure he was going it on purpose.
Tonight, the eighth night they had been doing this (their deadline approaching, but their essays were pretty much finished, apart from editing), she wore short shorts and a low-cut top. Jocelyn rarely wore clothes like this. She had thin, sleek, night-black legs, which she liked. And her breasts were small and pert. Her face was lightly freckled, and her eyes were bright green. She braided her hair. But sometimes she forgot about her body altogether. She was so captured by her books, her study, that she rarely stopped to appreciate her body.
But tonight was different. She knew she looked sexy from the way Zack’s expression changed when he saw her. Usually, she wore long jeans and long-sleeve t-shirts. Zack’s eyebrows went up, and then his smile grew wider. Jocelyn pretended not to notice, placing her bag on the table and slumping into her normal seat. “Is something wrong?” she said.
“Wrong? Hell, no.”
“Good, then let’s get to work.”
She looked down at her books, but they were forgotten for the night. Her essay would be submitted just fine. So would Zack’s, she knew. There was really no point in them meeting tonight, not for study. They both knew that. And yet she had come, and he had, too. As she was reading, she opened her legs, brushing his leg with her own. He was wearing shorts, as he often did, and their bare skin touched. A thrill moved up her thigh to her pussy, making it ache.
She felt his gaze on her, burning into her. She turned and faced him. “Yes?” she said, as innocently as she could.
“You know what,” he said calmly. He moved his hand under the table and laid it on her knee. Jocelyn moaned, bit her lip, watched his intent, serious brown eyes. “I’m going to touch you now,” he told her. He moved his hand up her thigh, to her shorts, and then under her shorts to her underwear. His hands felt strong, big on her slim legs. Her pussy was wet. When did that happen? she thought, but it didn’t matter. It was wetter than it had been in months, and that was all that mattered. He pushed her underwear aside and brushed his fingertips along her clit.
She clamped her jaw so hard she thought her teeth might shatter. The pleasure was instantly intense. She felt like there was a fire in her pussy, throbbing against her clit. He rubbed her softly at first (and the whole time his eyes were on her, staring into her, burning into her) and then moved his fingers faster. His voice was calm, and that turned Jocelyn on even more. She had the sense that he knew what he was doing. He wasn’t a college boy; he was a man. “You’re going to come for me,” he said, and moved his fingers so fast that his arm banged against the table. He didn’t care. “Come for me, Jocelyn.”
She closed her eyes tight-shut. Red-hot pleasure burst in her pussy and spread outward, moving up her belly and to her chest, making her nipples hard. She clenched her ass cheeks as the pleasure grew, grew, grew, until it stopped. Everything stopped—
And then released in a torrent. She keeled over and placed her hands on the table. Her fingernails scratched the wood, slivers coming off under her fingernails, the sound mingling with her moans. She squirted all over his hand. “Fuck,” he whispered, as she came. “Oh, fuck, yeah, come for me.”
She came harder. It could’ve last for a year or a second. Time stopped, and she hung in pleasure. Then (horribly, inevitably) it passed, and Zack removed his hand. Jocelyn’s breath came quickly, and she felt lightheaded. She closed her eyes and focused on her slowing her breathing. When she opened them, she saw that Zack was smiling at her. She looked from his face to his shorts, and saw his cock. It was huge, making his shorts rise like a tent pole lifting the fabric of a tent. And it was really hard.
Without saying anything, she reached over and grabbed it. He reached across and rubbed her breasts, reached under her shirt and rubbed her nipples. They were hard, and the pleasure moved around her chest, an orgasm looming. She looked around the library, making sure that it was still dead (it was), and then pulled at his shorts. His cock sprung up.
She leaned down and took it in her mouth.
Afterwards, they sat side by side, in the library as they had done for the past week. But they both knew something had changed. They had crossed a line. They would never just be study partners again. Did Jocelyn regret it? Hell, no. The pleasure had been too intense, too perfect, for that. The only thing she regretted was that they hadn’t done something like this sooner.
As they parted, at around one in the morning, Zack grabbed her and pulled her close to his. He pressed her lips against hers, their groins rubbing against each other, his hard cock moving up and down her pussy. “Let me take you out tomorrow night,” he said, as the kiss broke off. “Dinner.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jocelyn said, and then left him in the night.
*****
“Let’s skip dinner,” Zack said, when she climbed into the car.
“What?” she asked, but she could tell from the way he looked at her what he wanted.
She could’ve pretended to be outraged, she could’ve asked him to stop the car, but she didn’t. Because I want it to, because all I’ve thought about all day is the size of his cock, the feel of his muscles. He drove away from the college, past the city, and toward the suburbs with one hand on the wheel and one hand on her leg. She had worn a sparkly red dress, her legs on display again. She thought she had displayed her leg
s more these past two days than during the whole of college. His hand moved up her leg and toyed casually with her pussy as he drove.
About half an hour later, they pulled up on the outskirts of a small suburban neighborhood, just outside the remains of one of those drive-in movie theaters which Jocelyn had never been to. He turned to her with that cocky smile, and Jocelyn wondered when she had stopped resenting it and started wanting it. She thought it was around the fourth or fifth day in the library, when their legs had started touching more and more frequently.
He moved his hands under her dress to her underwear, and then pulled it around her ass and to her knees. She let it fall from her knees to around her heels, and then lifted her heels out of them. He touched her clit, and she reached across and touched his cock—
Heat rose around them. The car boiled. Moans filled her ears: hers and his. His cock was huge, but slid into her wet pussy easily. They fucked like mad, her on top, and then bent over. The car was small, but they made it work. They were too horny to let something like space stop them. When they finally stopped he had come three times and she had had more orgasms that she could count. Her pussy was sore, but satisfied. Zack smiled at her, but it was less cocky, more awe-struck.
“What?” she said, and felt another urge (despite the ache in her pussy, despite the tiredness of her body) to leap across the gearstick and ride him once again. She restrained herself, mostly because she wanted to hear what he had to say.
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” he said.
Guys always said that, Jocelyn knew, but somehow she knew Zack meant it. He said it matter-of-factly, as though he was talking about something which nobody could doubt, like the color of the sky or the weather. Jocelyn leaned across and kissed him.
Then he started the car.
“Where are we going?” she asked, thinking he meant to take them back to college.
“Dinner,” he laughed.
“It’s almost midnight!”
Did we really fuck for all that time?!
“Exactly. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
Jocelyn laughed with him as they left their spot and went in search for a fast food joint.
*****
“You did what?” Anna laughed. “When did this happen? When you first got together?”
The scene was the slight older sister of the talk they had had about a month and a half ago, when Zack Underwood had been just some annoying new guy in her class, before they had become close over their studies, before he had asked her to be his girlfriend, before she had started to feel the first quiet whispers of love, before they had made love every night for hours. They sat in the café, students milling around them, all a little more tired than before. Finals were in a week, after all.
“Before,” Jocelyn said, and couldn’t help but smile. “We just drove out there and . . . yeah, that was the first time we had sex. Does that make me a slut?”
“Not at all,” Anna said. “In England that happens all the time.”
“Have you done anything like that?”
Anna gave her an oh please expression. “Of course I have dear,” she said.
They talked a while longer about their studies, about finals, about the tests, and then Jocelyn had to leave. She was halfway to the library when a thought struck her. It was so potent – so full of terrifying meaning – that she felt like an idiot for not having thought it before. Maybe her mind had been blocking it, she thought. Maybe she had not wanted to think it. When was my last period? she thought numbly, and realized she had no idea. She could not think when her last period was. She searched back, and realized (the horror growing, her chest pounding) that her last period had been two weeks before she even met Zack. Which means . . .
Library forgotten, she turned on her heels and paced through the crowd of students, accidently bumping into people on the way. Her steps felt far away, like somebody was controlling them. There was a shop in the center of the college which sold pretty much everything. She walked down the aisles, eyes scanning the items frantically, until she came to the pregnancy tests. Her hand shook as she scooped one up, and then shook even more as she scooped another two up. The cashier (thank God!) didn’t say anything, or even give any indication that she cared one way or the other about Jocelyn’s predicament.
She paid for the tests, and then stood outside the shop, wondering which way to go. Left would take her to the bus stop, and the ten-minute ride to her apartment. Right would take her to the first-floor women’s bathroom. After another moment, she turned right and headed for the bathroom. If she’d ridden the bus, she would have eventually screamed in anticipation, in fear. How did I let this happen? she thought, over and over again. How did I let this happen?! All the times she and Zack had fucked . . . they had been so caught up in it . . . how? How? But of course the answer was clear. She had not been careful enough. No, they had not been careful enough. This wasn’t just on her.
The bathroom was blessedly empty. She threw the door to the stall and almost jumped in. Her pants were around her ankles before she was fully in the toilet seat. She ripped the packaging of the first test open and held it in the bowl, willing herself to go. No, you can’t be serious. Now, of all times, she couldn’t go! A thousand memories assailed her: riding in buses as a young girl, legs crossed, terrified that she might wet herself; bobbing up and down on the spot whilst waiting for some woman to vacate the stalls; going for a run and then realizing halfway through that she needed to pee. And now – now! – she couldn’t go.
She closed her eyes, and tried that age-old tactic of thinking of rivers and lakes and waterfalls and gushing water. It was like her body didn’t want her to know. She sat there for around ten minutes, and finally it happened. She peed on one, placed it atop the toilet paper dispenser, and then tore the packaging open for the other two. She peed on these and set them beside their friends.
The tests took ninety seconds. She thought she would’ve laughed if she saw this on TV: a woman with her fists clenched and sweat pouring down her face hopping up and down in a toilet cubicle with three pregnancy kits atop the toilet dispenser. But when it was actually happening to her, it wasn’t so funny. Time was going slower; that was her only explanation. Time knew how badly she wanted to find out the results, and it had slowed down to spite her.
But then the ninety seconds passed, and she was angry. She wasn’t ready yet. She needed longer to prepare herself. She looked down at the tests.
All three were positive.
She collapsed onto toilet seat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. How did we let this happen? she thought, images of Zack’s naked, writhing body atop hers filling her mind, images both sexual and now full of deeper, terrifying meaning. A child, she thought, hardly believing it. A real child.
And she wouldn’t get rid of it. She knew that as soon as she saw the results. She wouldn’t get rid of her baby. That left a huge task before her, a task that might shatter the romance that had only started to bloom.
She had to tell Zack.
*****
She thought about telling him on the phone why she wanted him to come over, but she didn’t. Partly because the words wouldn’t form, but mostly because she had sick images of him running away, refusing to come over, discarding her completely, in her mind. Instead, she asked it casually. Yes, he said, he’d come by after practice.
Jocelyn spent the time studying, her head bent over the books. She’d thought she would be too distracted to get any proper work done, but she found that that wasn’t the case. The work actually helped. It distracted her from herself, from the life inside her belly, from the football star’s child inside her belly. The future receded and the past disappeared and for a few blessed hours it was just her and the books. Then her phone vibrated so loudly against her desk that she started. Zack was outside.
She buzzed him up, trying to keep her voice steady over the intercom. When he walked in, the smile on his face could’ve killed her. It was the same cocky smile
that he always wore. Over this past month, she had scratched beneath the surface of that cocky smile. She had learned that he was kinder than she had first thought. She had learned that there was depth to him she hadn’t guessed at before. He truly didn’t know anything was wrong.
He made to kiss her, but she pulled away. The hurt in his face pained her, but she knew if she kissed him she wouldn’t be able to stop. She would lose herself in it, and it would only be harder to tell him afterward. “Please, sit down,” she said, turning her back and walking to the other end of the room.
When she turned back around, he was sitting on the couch, uncertainty writ plain across his face. He thinks I am going to break up with him, she knew. He thinks I am going to dump him. The sickly hilarious part is that after this he’s going to want to break up with me. There was a stool opposite the couch, across the coffee table. Jocelyn took it and looked her lover in the eyes.
She had rehearsed a speech about how much she liked him, how much she liked spending time with him, and how much fun she had had. She had muttered it over and over, even without realizing it, all afternoon. But now, with him standing before her, the speech seemed silly. There was no way to soften this blow. She took a deep breath, and let it out.
“I’m pregnant.”
At first he didn’t seem to hear the words. He cocked his head, like a man listening for a faraway sound, and then realization came over his face in a wave. His lips twitched into a smile which he seemed to force away. His face became calm. The only indication that something was wrong was the way he tapped his finger on the coffee table. He didn’t seem to realizes he was doing it.
“Pregnant,” he said, the word like an echo. “Jesus.”
“Yep,” Jocelyn said. “That was my thought exactly.”
He turned his face up. “You’re not going to—”
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