a/n: What? What is this? Is this an actual sequel to Drift? After over a year? It is!

I really shouldn't be starting a new story, but I had to. Updates might be scarce, but they'll be up when they can be.

If you haven't read the first story, I recommend you go read it so that you aren't confused! Regardless, everybody should be able to follow this story without a problem. Drift was one of my most popular stories so I couldn't help but write a sequel, plus change some things up. I hope this story is still as interesting as the prior!

Let me know your thoughts! As always, I do not own any characters unless stated.

With a flip of raven-dark hair over her pale shoulder, Paige grasped the bathroom sink firmly. Her breathing was heavy and random, but she was breathing nonetheless.

How could I be so stupid? Paige shook her head. She knew she wasn't stupid. Well, at least not in the technical way. She was intelligent and she knew how to handle herself, but when it came to her emotions, she was as blind as a bat. There wasn't a single thing she could do to control herself when it came to dealing with the emotions that coursed through her veins.

Her black-painted fingernails tapped against the marble countertop of the hotel bathroom. Once she entered the hotel, she couldn't spare enough time to hurry up to her room, so she settled for the bathroom to the right of the lobby. Luckily, she was the only one inside and she locked herself away in the room so she could remain alone. She just needed some space to continue her frantic breathing.

Paige's heart continued to pound against her chest as her eyes trailed up to the mirror where she stared at her reflection. Outlines of tears were stained in her foundation and her dark eyeshadow had smeared under her eyes, emphasizing her dark circles. She ridiculed herself for even wanting to cry. What were tears going to do?

Nothing. Tears did nothing. They didn't settle her fear or change what was happening. All they did was ruin her makeup and make her feel weaker. Absolutely worthless.

Paige closed her eyes and wiped away another tear before drying off her hand with the side of her pants. She was about to splash some water on her face when the timer on her phone went off and she jumped slightly at the sound.

A deep, shaky breath was inhaled. Paige shook her head multiple times before turning the timer off. With another deep breath, she slowly reached out to her left and picked up the plastic stick to check the results. Of course, just as she'd expected, they were positive.

"Shit," she breathed.

Paige didn't even stare at the test for longer than five seconds before dropping it into the sink. Her entire body began to shake. Knowing that she should rake a hand through her hair and hurry out of the bathroom before someone tried to enter, Paige quickly swiped the test out of the sink and tossed it into the trash. She ran some soap and water over her hands carelessly, dried them with a paper towel, and then unlocked the door to leave.

She didn't bother checking her makeup in the mirror before darting out of the enclosed room. Her feet beat her to the elevators, where she pressed the floor number where she knew he was staying. She needed to see him and tell him. Regardless of how he would react, she needed him to know.

More than anything, she needed him to tell her everything would be okay.

The elevator took forever to reach the sixth floor, but as soon as the doors slid open, Paige was sprinting down the hall. She knew his room number because he always requested the same number no matter which hotel they were staying at that week.

The hall was confusing, with intricate turns and random closets on every stretch, but she eventually found the door she was looking for. One deep sigh later, Paige's fist was banging against the door. The next few silent seconds were excruciatingly long, but she managed to withstand them.

If a door could open any slower, Paige would be surprised. The cool air that hit her face once the door was open brought fresh tears to Paige's eyes, but she swallowed them down.

"Paige? Have you been crying?"

The British woman held herself together for a moment before breaking back down. Her head shook along with her body and her bottom lip quivered. "No," she mumbled quietly.

She found herself within his arms and he pulled her into his room. Despite usually feeling safe in the reach of his body, she felt worse than ever being wrapped in his scent. Their lives were about to be twisted and tugged into a million directions and there wasn't anything they could do about it that felt right.

"Tell me what's wrong, Paige."

Paige buried her head into the nook of his neck and sobbed. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can. Use your words."

The woman moved her arms up his sides until they were locked behind his back. She didn't want to move anymore. She just wanted to be still.

His words didn't soothe any part of her. There wasn't anything she could think of that would help besides alcohol, which she knew was a bad idea for obvious reasons. All she could do was bawl her eyes out and stay standing in his arms. That was the only thing she could think to do.

"Paige..." He pulled apart slightly so that they were looking into each other's eyes. "You can tell me anything, remember? We aren't dating, but you can still tell me anything and I won't judge. I'm here to listen."

Why weren't his words helping? He was being as sweet as he could manage, but it didn't make a difference. She couldn't stop crying. He deserved better than this.

Without answering, she dove back into his arms and returned her face to the wetness on the shoulder of his shirt. It was uncomfortably comfortable to be in that position; standing just behind the closed door of his hotel room with her face resting against a soaking piece of cloth. She didn't want to move because she feared that any distance between them would cause her to fall to physical pieces.

"Paige," he muttered into her hair before pressing his lips against her skull to resemble a kiss. "What's going on?"

Silence took over the room. She slowly turned her head so that she was facing his neck, but her arms were still locked behind his back. She felt his fingers trace circles against her shoulders and while she knew it was meant to comfort her, she couldn't find an excuse to feel better. Everything was making her feel worse.

She knew she had to get the words out. She knew that she needed to just tell him. Only two words needed to be spoken. Only two. She could say two words.

A fragile breath was inhaled and exhaled before she spoke. Softly, she whispered his name. "Seth?"

Seth tightened his grip around her, hoping to make her feel better. His cheek was resting against the top of her head, but he could still hear her. "Yes?"

Say it. Just spit it out. You can do it.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered.