I shake my head. “No, I haven’t eaten all day.”
She holds me at arm’s length, eyeing me suspiciously. “So, what are you throwing up then?”
I shrug off her concern. “What I ate last night, I guess. That and a lot of coffee and water.
”
“Have you been crying?” She swipes my cheek with her fingers.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “It’s like I’m falling apart. First, I start crying because Mr. Hopper throws a menu at me, and then the smell of onions from his lunch made me sick.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “That’s weird, don’t you think?”
I roll my shoulders. “No, I’m stressed out. I’m not sleeping. Dean’s been MIA for the last few days. He’s so hard to get a hold of now.”
“Do you have your period?”
“Nope.”
Her curious look grows more serious. “We normally get our periods at the same time. So, that means you’re late. I just finished mine. When was the last time you had yours?”
“Umm… Maybe at the end of June or sometime in July. I’m not sure. It’s not that big of a deal. I’ve gone months without getting my period.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t having sex back then,” she points out.
My eyes widen when I realize where she’s going with this.
I shake my head. “No, it’s not possible. We used a condom.”
Her eyebrow raises. “Every time?”
I nod, sure of the answer until I stop myself. “No, not when we were in the tub together.”
She blows out a breath of air that I can feel on my cheek. “Oh, babe, no. Please tell me you didn’t let him…”
“We were talking about our future, and I don’t know… it just happened. I wasn’t thinking.”
“He must not have either,” she says under her breath.
We stare at each other in horror. My stomach churns again, and this time for a different reason.
“There’s no way,” I mutter. “Not with the first guy I had sex with.”
“It happens to girls all the time, Kat.”
My chest fills with panic, the air sucked from my lungs. I press my palm to the cold concrete wall, attempting to catch my breath. “No, no, no…”
Silvia hugs me to calm my nerves. “You have to take a pregnancy test. It might be nothing. Just bad timing. But you have to know either way.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “But I think I’m gonna pass out.”
“You have five minutes before Mr. Hopper sends someone to look for you.”
“Fuck,” I groan. “I forgot all about that asshole. I hate this job. I don’t want to go back. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. It’s the stress, right?”
She gives me a hopeful smile, but it looks forced. “Sure, maybe. We’ll go to the drug store after work and find out what’s going on with you.”
We part ways at the end of the hall, promising to meet at the elevator bank at the end of the day. And of course, because I have the worst luck on the planet, Mr. Hopper is standing out front of his office when I return, with a terrifying expression on his face.