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cllightning81 · 10 months ago

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Positive P2 [LN4]

Summary : Surprising Lando after a race with the results to your pregnancy test

Pairing/s: Lando Norris x Reader

Word Count:

Warning/s: Pregnancy, Talk of not being able to have kids

Watching Lando with kids has always been a beautiful sight. However, watching Lando with Mila and Athena was a totally different experience. There was a different connection watching the two of them. Normally, kids cried when they saw Lando because their hero was right in front of them, but with Mila and Athena, he was just ‘Lala’ and not Lando Norris.

The video of Lando playing with Mila when she was just a little baby throwing his phone about the place had started to circulate your social media; it only made your baby fever start to grow.

You were due to meet Lando at the paddock as he had gone a little early for the media and you just wanted to lie in but it wasn’t until you felt ill that you messaged Lando asking if he had time to quickly come back to the hotel after stopping at the shop for something. To which he replied obviously still in that state of life where you could ask him to murder someone, and he would.

There was very little chance you could actually be pregnant with not only you and Lando being extremely careful but with you being told that there was little chance of you ever getting pregnant throughout your life but with your baby fever and how you were feeling everything pointed towards that actually maybe coming true.

Lando had wanted to wait and see the results but you knew that he couldn’t or he’d get fined so you forced him out of the hotel room telling him that he’d be the first person to know. Except he wouldn’t be. If the test came back positive, you had the perfect way to tell him.

But when you saw that positive result that’s when you panicked, you never thought you’d actually see the day when that test actually came back positive after many years of being told it would never happen.

Now, standing in the Mclaren motorhome, you still hadn't told Lando the results. You didn’t want to stress him out before a race. Never mind a race when he was starting on the front row with the chance of winning but you did tell Zak knowing the perfect way to tell him after a good or bad race and hopefully he’d be happy with the news.

Lando finished P2 just as he started. No one was getting past Max Verstappen any time soon, so it was basically a win for him, and you knew he’d say that when asked about it. Zak waved you over, and you walked over to the pit wall standing behind him as he placed his headphones over your ears and pressed the radio button for Lando’s car. Nodding to you with a smile

“Hey baby. That’s a positive P2” You hummed, hoping he’d catch on to what you were saying without Sky or F1TV or any other showings catching it.

“Positive?” He asked with a frown. You could hear the frown on his face

“Wait? What are you doing on the radio?” Now very confused as to everything

“Yep. Positive P2” You smiled

“Zak let me tell you your position for the day” You looked at Zak, who was smiling at you

“Oh my god, Y/N. This is brilliant. I love you so much!” He exclaimed

“I’ll see you at the podium baby” You gave Zak his headphones back

“Got a podium to get to. Let’s go” He smiled, and you walked with him. Zak’s more than just the CEO to you and Lando. He was always a phone call away if anything went wrong or if you didn’t travel out to a race and couldn’t get a hold of Lando the next best person to call was Zak because he’d always answer.

Zak would invite you, Lando, Oscar, and Lily out for food whenever he got the chance or would send you little gifts during Christmas or your birthday. He was kinda like a father figure to you both. Standing watching the podium next to Zak, you could see how big the smile on Lando’s face was compared to normal.

Meeting Lando back in his driving room, you were instantly wrapped in a hug with his hands landing on your stomach as he kissed your neck from behind

“I can’t believe it, baby. You’re serious, right? We’re going to have a baby? I got the message, right?” He asked, and you nodded

“I’m very serious. We're going to have a baby. I’m so glad you got that message, though. I was a little worried you wouldn’t understand what I was saying” You smiled, turning in his arms as he kissed you properly this time.

“Oh my god, a little baby. Oh love you’re parent’s. They’re gonna be so happy they’re getting a grandbaby” Lando was very excited as he basically jumped around the room like a little kid in a sweet shop.

“If it’s okay with you, I don’t want to tell anyone for a few months” you whispered, sitting down on the couch in his driver's room. Lando looked over at you

“Whatever you want” He smiled, and you nodded

“After being told I probably would never have kids, I don’t want to tell people. There’s a risk that everything might go wrong and I don’t want to tell everyone we’re having a kid to be reminded that actually we aren’t” You explained quietly and he wrapped you in a hug

“Whatever you want to do we will do darling but I do know that I love you very much and whatever happens will never change my mind but we’ll do it together” He smiled kissing you around your face causing you to giggle from his stubble tickling your skin

Tag List

@bearryyy

@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

@evie-119

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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To Those Who Wait

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: this is intended as a one shot but you also know I'm easy to influence.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Happy birthday!” Vivica shoves the plastic teeth of the dollar store tiara into your hair.

You try not to glower as the rest of the table roars with laughter. It’s a happy night. You can’t spoil it just because you hate gimmicks. They mean well, you’re just a downer. Like always.

You force a smile, “thanks, guys.”

“Don’t thank us, it’s your night,” Jerrod chirps. “Which means you drink for free!”

Big whoop. You barely drink. You’ll have one or two for the occasion but you don’t like the way it makes your stomach feel. Ugh, stop being such a tight ass. It’s about you but it isn’t. They went to all this trouble planning the night. For you. Your friends. You can at least be thankful for them.

Yeah, you have friends but how much do they really know you? For as long as you’ve known them, they should know that this isn’t you. They are the ones that want to go out, that want to drink, that want to wade into the unpredictability of the general public. That’s not you.

“So, what are we having?” Mila asks.

“Hm, I don’t know. You know I’m not picky.” It all just tastes like alcohol.

“Ooh, cucumber gimlet. That sounds nice,” Jerrod says.

“Oh, it really does,” Vivica agrees.

“I’m going to try the gummy bear. I’m in the mood for something sweet,” Mila says.

“Sure, I’ll try that,” you shrug.

Jerrod flags down a server and puts in the order. As he does, Vivica stirs around under the table. Mila claps as she reveals the gift bag from beneath.

“My favourite part,” Mila wiggles with excitement.

“Oh, you didn’t have to--”

“It’s only one part of our gift,” Jerrod laughs knowingly.

You give him a wary look. You don’t like his tone. You accept the gift bag and look inside. You can’t tell what it is. You pull out the tissue paper and a small box wiggles inside. Slowly, you slip it out and just as quickly shove it back in.

“That’s it. You wanna do it just like that,” Jerrod guffaws.

Your mouth drops open as you look around the table. The bright pink dildo has your cheeks on fire. You can’t believe they’d bring that out in public.

“What is wrong with you guys?”

“Oh, come on, everyone can use a good six inches or so,” Jerrod snickers. “That’s our backup gift. Our real gift is somewhere around here.”

“Huh?” You peek around the bar. “Like a scavenger hunt?”

“Oh, it’s a hunt,” Vivica juts out her chin. “You set the target and we’ll take him down for you.”

“What?” You scoff.

“Come on, honey, you’re thirty. You need to get one last hurrah in,” Jerrod insists. “When it’s my turn, I want three beefy boys. One in each flavour, blond, brunette, and even a redhead.”

“I’ll have the same,” Mila smirks.

You’re embarrassed. Uncertain two. You can’t tell if they’re mocking you. Out of the four of you, you’ve always been the boring one. The sober one. All these years, and you were the one saving them from regrettable drunken mistakes and making sure they don’t leave the bar with creeps. It wouldn’t be hard for them to guess, would it?

“Don’t worry, we’ll be your wingmen. Wingwomen. Wingfriends!” Vivica says. “How about him?” She points as the server lays out the drinks. “He’s cute. Oh, look at his eyes.”

“Wow,” Mila preens. “A bad boy. That would be adorable.”

You want to disappear. You want to dissolve into the cushioned bench. Become a part of it. Life as a piece of a furniture must surely be nicer.

“And his friends, not bad, huh?”

You’re speechless. It’s a joke. Even if they don’t mean it as one, it is. All these years and you’ve never been the one approached first. You’re the straggler. You get the odd one out and they get stuck with you. Maybe, all this time, your friends had been too self-absorbed or too drunk to notice that.

You don’t mean to be bitter. You shouldn’t be. It isn’t their fault you’re so lame. That you’ve gone another year without a single thing to be proud of. Without any change.

“Right, well, they look busy.”

“Booooo,” Vivica hovers her glass in front of her mouth. “Who wants to break the ice?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Mila stands.

“Wait.” You blurt out but she ignores you.

Some birthday. You get to spend it awkwardly making small talk with another disinterested stranger. You try not to show your discomfort. You grab the skewer with gummy bears impaled on it and stir the vibrant red drink. You sip through the thin straw. It makes your cheek pinch painfully. The sugar will do worse to your stomach than the vodka.

You keep your head down as Mila’s fluttery giggle wafts over. Vivica giggles as she watches and Jerrod cranes to see. You stare at the table and distance yourself from the moment, detaching from your body as the bar hazes around you.

“Hey, you guys, come on,” Mila calls over, “lots of room.”

Her waving hand brings you back to the present. Vivica nudges you with her elbow as Jerrod jumps up. He grabs Mila’s drink and you shuffle along behind them. The group of men sit at one of the tall tables. They rearrange themselves and you stand back as the others claim their seats.

You climb up on the last, balancing your drink and the gift bag, unable to bring yourself to look at the men on either side of you. You fixate on your drink and taste it again, even as the sickly flavour curdles in your mouth. Your friends introduce themselves and you choke on your name before Mila says it for you.

The men take their turns. Your eyes dart around evasively. A sweltering heat forms a sheen across your face. The one with the frosted tips and glasses is Jensen, the broader brunette in the button-up and blazer is Nick, the biggest with his bushy beard is Sy, and the last one, beside you, with the buzz cut, is Curtis.

“Nice crown,” Jensen says. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you reach up and take of the tiara. “Thanks.”

“You from here or visiting?” Jerrod asks the men.

“We work at Stacks.”

“Programmers?” Vivica snorts. “You might know my ex. Two of them actually.”

They laugh. You don’t know what’s funny. This is weird. You hate that invisible barrier between you and them, that makes you feel like you’re on a completely different planet. You don’t get this part of the script. The prologue is as far as you ever get.

“How old are you?” Curtis’ deep timbre startles you as it rolls beneath the chatter of the others. You shift in your seat and twist the glass around.

“Thirty,” you pick up the Tiara, the 3 and 0 nearly hidden by the feathers.

“Ah, the big one,” he comments.

“Yeah, just another year,” you put the plastic crown down.

“What do you do?”

You sniff and tap your fingers on the cup. You lift it and drain the last of the fruity juice and stringent vodka. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” He asks.

“My friends are just being goofy. You don’t have to act like you’re into me.”

“Well, I’m not much of an actor. Never was into theatre,” he says. “I wouldn’t know, would I? Just trying to get to know you, figure that out.”

“Really,” you give him a sideways look. “Ah,” you hiss in false disappointment, “hate to break the seal but I gotta go the ladies. Excuse me.”

“Right,” he accepts dully. “How about I get you a refill, for your birthday?”

“You don’t have to but if you really want to, I could use a ginger ale. Thanks.” You accept as you climb off the stool.

You cross the bar and stop just at the threshold of the hallway that reads Girls and Boys above. You glance back. Mila has her charming smile on, Vivica is leaning into Sy, and Jerrod and Nick are watching something on his phone. Why can’t you be normal, like them?

You flinch as you catch Curtis’ eye. His eyes flick to you as he talks to the server. You quickly spin away. You’ll wait until the third round when they’re too tipsy to care. Then you’ll make your exit.

🍹

The hotel clerk hands you the key card. You don’t make eye contact. If you do, she might see right through you. You shove it in your pocket before the tremour is noticeable. You hurry away to the elevator and tap the button three times.

You’re not impatient because your eager. You just want to get this over with. Finally. It only took you thirty years.

The doors open and you step in, relieved that no one else gets on with you. When you’re shut in, you shudder. You’re disgusted. With this. With yourself. But you’re tired. You just want to pull of the bandage. You want to know what all the fuss is about so you can say you’re not missing out on anything.

Ever since your birthday, since that pathetic deja vu of going home alone, of your friends stealing the attention on what the claim was your night, you haven’t been able to stop those thought. You’re pathetic. A loser. No wonder it’s hasn’t happened yet. Who would want to touch you? They barely want to talk to you. They wouldn’t if you weren’t a leech on your friends’ ankles.

The doors open and jar you. You stagger then march out. You slide the card out and check the room number again. Your hands shake so bad it takes you five tries to get the green light.

Inside the room, the nausea swells in your stomach. Your teeth chatter. You go into the bathroom and put the bag on the counter. You dig out the anti-nausea medicine and read the insert; take one or two. Do not take with alcohol.

You pop the pink pill in your mouth and swallow. You look at your reflection. You look as scared as you feel. No time to waste, you’ve done enough of that.

You start with the shower. You wash every crook and crevice. You check your legs and under your arms. You only shaved yesterday night but you don’t need any pricklies. And your pelvis. You did a decent enough job trimming that down.

You get out and moisturise. You don’t want to smell. For once in your life, you don’t want to feel repugnant. You’re not some romantic. You thought of buying lingerie but that only seemed sadder. So you put on a pair of grey jersey pajamas, just a tank top and shorts.

You don’t want to look like this is a big deal. That you tried too hard. You do your hair and a little bit of makeup. Too much would just get messy anyway. Deodorant, perfume, and mouthwash. You’re as fresh as can be.

And anxious!

You take out the box of condoms. You don’t think the pills are working. You want to vomit, even though you haven’t eaten. You grab your phone and check the messages. Shoot, it’s a lot later than you thought.

‘Cashapp?’

Fuck, you forgot. You quickly flip over to your menu and sign in. You send the money and your chest drops. This is it. That’s a hefty wad of cash. You hope it’s worth it.

You reply to the text; ‘sent’ then the room number. There. Done deal. It’s going to happen. Then you can say, yeah, did it, no big deal.

You go into the suite and put your phone on the night table. You sit on the bed for a whole second before you bounce off. No, you can’t stay there. No, no, no. You pace and wring your hands as you wait.

The knock trips you up. You turn to stare at the door and like a horror movie, your eyes widen and your ears ring. He’s here.

You near the door and stop to look through the key hole. There’s a trickle of relief. He looks like the pictures her sent. That’s good.

You open the door a crack and look out. He looks annoyed as he checks his watch then tugs on the lapels of his jacket. It looks like a designer; the lining has little emblems on it. He says your name, “that’s you, right?”

“Hugh? Right?” You blink and he nods as he cheek ticks, “er, come in.”

You pull back the door and press yourself to the wall. He struts in and clicks his tongue in his cheek. He examines the room as he shrugs out of his jacket and slings it over the small bench against the wall. You close the door and he whistles. You face him as he tilts his head, looking you up and down.

“Smells good in here,” he grins and smooths his tidy hair.

Despite who and what he is, he’s handsome. Well, that probably helps. It’s why you paid half your savings for one night. You sway slightly then swallow down the despair. You’re doing it. You’re really going to do it.

A fucking prostitute. That’s as good as you can do.

“How about some music,” he approaches the speaker under the television, “think these things have bluetooth now.”

“Sure,” you croak, watching him as you cross your arms. It’s not too late. No, you don’t think you’ll get a refund now.

He takes out his phone and swipes around. He holds a button on the sound bar and it chimes. Soft R&B drawls from the speaker. You bite your thumb as you stare at him.

“So...” he looks at you.

You nod and clear your throat. You don’t know what to do. You don’t think the whole foreplay thing is going to happen.

He drags his hands down his cream sweater. He doesn’t really dress like an escort. Or maybe you just put too much trust in movies. He lifts the hem as you stay as you are. Your feet are glued to the floor.

He strips off the sweater and reveals a muscled torso and a thicket of dark hair across his chest. You don’t expect it as he sports a clean shave on his jaw. You clamp down on your arms as you keep them folded across your chest.

“Like what you see?” He winks and bites his lips.

He’s good. You almost believe him. If you weren’t missing a chunk from your bank account, you might.

“Come on, baby, why don’t you get some wine going,” he purrs.

A distraction. Thank god. You go to the bar fridge and take out one of the mini bottles of white wine. You peel off the foil over the cap but can’t break the seal. You struggle, trying to hide your effort, but sense him coming close.

“I just need to find some glass,” you say.

He chuckles and takes the bottle. His blue eyes devour you as he cracks the seal and flicks the cap away. He drinks directly from the bottle and smirks.

“No need. Go on,” he offers it up.

Your lips twitch and you take the bottle. You drink, nearly gagging. You swallow and hand it back. He swigs as he watches you.

He is so good looking. You wonder how he even got into this. He’s built like a god. No, a gladiator. You’re such a frigging dweeb.

“Hey, you don’t gotta be uptight,” he gives the wine back to you, “relax, enjoy the wine. You paid for the night. No hurry.”

You nod and drink again. It goes down easier. You return the bottle to him and he strides to the bed. He sits and pats the other side of the mattress.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

You quiver and lock your arms straight. You are conscious of every single part of you as you near him. You sit stiffly and stare ahead. The music drones as he gulps again. He bends forward to set the empty bottle on the floor.

You wince as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. He traces the strap of your tank top and pulls you against him. You shiver as he brushes up your neck.

“This your first time?”

You twitch then make yourself nod. You wait for him to laugh. He doesn’t.

“Well, let’s go slow, then.”

“No,” you erupt. “I mean--” you grip your knees and steady yourself. “I want to just do it. Get it over with.” You grit your teeth and force a breath out your nose. “There’s condoms in the bathroom.”

Now he laughs. “Huh, you know what you want.”

You don’t reply. You can’t. That was the last of your courage or whatever you want to call it.

He goes into the bathroom and you list as he opens the box. He emerges and examines the square wrapper. It looks even smaller in his large hand. He rests his other on the top of his pants.

“How do you want it?” He asks.

You stare at him. How do you want it? You don’t know. You raise your brows helplessly.

“Wanna get naked?” He suggests.

You look at the bed. You blink long and hard. Your head feels fuzzy. Must be the wine.

“Right,” he sighs and undoes his zipper. You peek up long enough to see the top of his boxers. You back away and crawl up the bed.

You face away from him as you strip off your shirt, then your shorts. You jitter as you lay down flat like a plank. You stare at the ceiling as the wrapper crinkles. He groans as he comes closer to the bed.

“I like these ones,” he puts a knee on the bed.

Your breath is like thunder. You feel like your suffocating. He touches your leg and you squeak.

“Gonna have to open up, baby,” he pets your knee.

You let him drag your legs apart. You can’t do it yourself. You wipe your face with a shaky hand.

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

Your eyes snap to him as something clicks. He holds a small bottle with a black label. He squirts the clear oil onto his fingers then reaches between your legs. You return your gaze to the ceiling before he makes contact.

He rubs the cool lube between your folds. Your thighs quake as he glides up and down. Over and over until the moisture is more than just from the bottle.

He tickles your entrance and you tense. He rasps as he circles around, “relax.” He pokes a finger into you and you clench. He wiggles it and hushes you as you whimper. “Look, you’re not gonna like it if you don’t chill.”

He sinks his finger further in then pulls it out again. You blow your breath out and suck it back in as he dips inside once more. You clasp the duvet beneath you as he fingers you rhythmically. Your pussy trembles around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he pushes a second finger into you. “You wanna be ready, huh? I mean... it’s your first time, you gotta be ready.”

The comment is like a slap across the face. Still, you can’t focus on his words. Your eyes feel fuzzy and your body is alight with a spectrum of tingles.

He rocks his hand and you lift your pelvis slightly. He presses his thumb against your clit and you gasp. The mix of pressure and motion is intense. You’re not completely clueless. That toy your friends gave you isn’t the only one you have, you just never used one inside of you.

You push your head down into the pillows and moan. He hums in approval and brushes his other hand up your stomach. He rolls his thumb around your nipple.

“Yeah, like that, relax,” he pushes deeper and you whine, little pouts coming as you dig your heels into the mattress. “Oh, my god, baby, you’re going to cum, aren’t you?”

You squeal as you spasm. It’s not your first orgasm but it’s the best one you’ve ever had. It’s wild how different it is with someone, anyone, else. You shake as your voice unfurl and your cunt squelches around his fingers. He cooes at you as he eases you through your climax.

“Was that so bad?” He wiggles his fingers before he pulls them free. “Huh? Think you liked that.” He gets up on his knees and moves between your legs. He strokes his dick, swollen inside the rubber sheath. “Think you’ll like this a whole lot better.”

You lift your head dozily and stare at him. He’s big. Long and thick. That dildo was probably smaller than him and you left it in the package.

He moves closer and you let out a surprised chitter. He caresses your thigh and hushes you as he grips your hip. He pumps himself with his other hand and angles his tip along your lips.

“You said you wanted to get it done,” he pushes his blunt tip along your entrance. “Don’t hold your breath, baby.”

He pushes into you and you cry put. Oh. That’s not good. The blinding pain ripples through you. This is different too. Not like his fingers. He’s...

“Too big,” you rasp. “Please-- ah, ah, ah.”

“Come on, baby, you can take it,” he growls as he inches into you. “Once it’s in, it’ll feel better.” He impales you down to his base and snarls as he leans his head back. He rolls his shoulders and shudders. “Fuck, it’s been a while since I had a virgin cunt.”

Flames of humiliation lick at you. This man who fucks for a living is taking your virginity like it’s a prize. Another deposit in the bank. Why did you do this?

“Hugh,” you eke out his name and reach down, pressing your fingertips to his stomach. “I don’t want--”

He thrusts and you shriek. Your lips form and O as your head falls back down. You whimper as your body shakes uncontrollably. Your fingers furl into fists and your toes curl.

“Baby, you said you wanted this. You paid for it,” he grabs your wrists and moves your hands above your head, locking them there as he holds himself above you. “Ah, fuck.” He rams into you again and your tears spill over. “Ah, ah, ah,” he continues to thrust, “you are fucking tight. Ah.”

He closes his eyes as his nostrils flair and he groans, “the way you’re squeezing me--”

“Please,” you snivel and he snaps his pelvis into yours. You push your legs wider, trying to ease the pressure. “Ow. You’re hurt—ing me.”

“Argh, yes, oh,” he ruts into you harder and harder.

The springs of the bed bounce you against him as his pace turns furious. He puffs like an animal as his eyes blare down at you. You writhe and sob, your face wet with horror and humiliation. Your flesh claps together slickly as he raises himself only to drop down with all his weight. Again and again and again.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Baby, you hear that. Your first time and you got about to blow,” he sneers. “Tell me you want me to cum.”

You gurgle helplessly and he slams into you, “tell me.”

“Please--” You squeal. “Please just cum. Just...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grunts as he batters you.

“Please cum--”

He bucks wildly and lets out a bellowing roar. He pushes his head up and drones through his climax as he fucks you into the bed. You close your eyes and turn your head away. He slows as your heart pounds in your temples and your skin scalds. What did you do?

He lets go of your wrists and pulls out of you all at once. He leaves you splayed on the bed. His footfalls slap away to the bathroom and the faucet runs. You don’t dare move, hoping that if you don’t, this will all just turn out to be a nightmare.

🛏️

You touch your wrist and rip your hand away as if you’ve been burned. The bruises are tender. All of you is, but especially... that part of you.

You have a pillow under you as you sit on your couch. You can barely put your weight on your pelvis. Each time a pang strikes, you remember that horrible mistake. Now you can really say that it isn’t all it’s made out to be. It’s not worth it.

You lean on the armrest and stare at the television. You don’t see the faces or hear the words. Like the rest of the world, it’s now a fog. Like that night. The box for the pills said not to mix with alcohol.

You lean your head in your hand. You don’t want to think about it. That’s worse than what happened. The memory. That never ends.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it. Vivica called several times. Jerrod once, and all Mila sent was some Tiktok you don’t care about.

The table continues to vibrate. It agitates you. You get up and stumble. You cup between your legs. You wear only a sleep shirt. You don’t want anything to chafe. You grab your phone and check the ID. Who the heck?

You answer, “hello?”

“Hi, is this...” the timbre asks. Do you know them.

“Uh, yeah, is this the pharmacy?”

There’s a silence, “uh, no, it’s Curtis.”

“Curtis,” you repeat.

“From the bar?” He says uncertainly.

You already know that. You just don’t believe it. You frown.

“How did you get my number?”

“Your friend. Viv. Sorry, I... I guess I shoulda asked you but you left so early.”

“Why?” You ask then cringe at your own stupidity.

“Why... because... I want to ask you out. I’m not good at beating around the bush, you know, but you don’t really give a guy a chance.”

“Asking me out?”

“Trying.”

You’re quiet again. It’s like sledge hammer shattering your reality. A couple days ago, you’d be giddy. Not it’s ironic. After what you did. Another laugh in the face.

“So, did I... just embarrass myself here or...” he huffs. You feel bad.

You never gave him a chance. You never gave yourself a chance. And now you spoiled it all. You can’t bring yourself to take out your self-hatred on him again. You can humour him for one date. Then you can say, at least, that you’ve done that too.

“Um, alright,” you agree, wishing it was happier, wishing that it could be different. You’ll have to figure out how to let him down easy. Although Mila says ghosting is even easier. “Sure.”

“Sure,” he echoes you. “Don’t sound so excited.”

“Ha, sorry,” you turn and rub your neck. “Yes. Let me know what works for you.”

“I can do that,” he sounds relieved. “I’ll text you in a minute.”

“Alright,” you hold back a scoff. “Thanks for calling, Curtis.”

“No, thank you.”

He hangs up and you turn the phone to silent. Your eyes sting as you lay it face down on the table and walk away. Things could have been so much different if you weren’t so damn stupid. He’ll figure that out and maybe you won’t have to be the one to break it off.

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