A/N: This is dedicated to a special friend. Yup, yup! It's a preg. Summer story, one of your favorites. ;) I hope you like it. (And to all other readers who like my stories, I heart you guys so much.) It's basically a future fic in college. I think. Enjoy. :)

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Out of all the things I miss because of being pregnant, coffee has to be at the top of my list. Like right now, I'm studying for this mid-term, resisting that constant urge buzzing in my head, whispering to me to grab my head and rip my hair out, just for the fun of it. And guess what? No coffee.

I quickly skim through the next three pages, but I don't even bother to pretend like I'm actually interested. I slam my book shut and sigh, sitting up straight in the middle of the floor where I was situated.

Another thing I realized, when being pregnant and no body knows about it but you, you can't stay in one place for long. You're constantly pacing. I surprise myself, sometimes. It's almost like being at a million places at once, because technically, your mind is somewhere, your heart is somewhere, and your body is somewhere completely different.

It's not like I don't have anyone to tell. There's Marissa, and there's Seth. And there's the father, who sits two seats across from me during half my classes and is also my best friend. Of course, he's my last resort, 'cause really, my least favorite thing is facing a speechless Ryan. As if he doesn't do enough silent brooding on any given day. But when you give him a reason to be silent? Now that sucks.

As if on you cue, my cell-phone vibrates. The fucking vibrator on that thing. When I put it on silent so I can avoid calls, that buzzing from the vibrator haunts me, telling me silently that I should feel guilty for not answering. It deprives me of the excuse "Oh, I didn't know you called at the time." It's the reason behind half my misery. Hey, I'm pregnant; I'm allowed to be hormonal and overdramatic.

I let the phone ring a few times, ignoring it completely, humming a little tune of my own to drown out the soft sound of it shaking against my bedside table, but the damn thing won't shut up. It's amazing how much trouble can ensue from that little piece of shit. When it doesn't shut up, I hum louder, until my hum turns into a loud groan and I grab it and flip it open and take a deep inaudible breath.

"Hello?" I greet, forcing a smile, even though whoever it is can't see me. I roll my eyes at my own stupidity.

"Ms. Roberts, this is Dr. Jacob calling from the Early Parenting center in reference to your last check-up."

I sigh softly and sit down on the edge of the bed, bracing myself for the news.

"The results came back, still positive," he informs me, and I shut my eyes as a sudden rush of emotions floods my blood. "I prepared a few brochures for you, so you can consider your options. Any time you can come by and pick them up, I'll have them ready with Lily at reception."

I nod, but realizing that he still can't see me, I mutter, "Okay." It's not till then that I recognize that familiar lump in my throat and my voice comes out all husky and broken, as if I was going to cry. I wonder if he thinks I'm going to cry. He shouldn't count on it, though, 'cause it's not going to happen anytime soon.

After I thank him, I flip my cell-phone shut and then open it again, instinctively going through my phone book until I reach Ryan's name, and I stare down at the picture I have saved there, when he wasn't looking, and he was grinning at something someone had said, bam, I took the picture.

Why couldn't I keep my legs closed? Why did I have screw up the best friendship I came across, by far? Do not ask me for answers. I'm just good at asking, but when it comes to the actual answers, I'm just as bad as the next guy. Or girl. Whatever. It doesn't matter what answer I get for my questions, 'cause nothing will take back the night me and Ryan had sex.

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"Summer!" Ryan slurred, swallowing thoroughly as I tried to balance his weight on my shoulders, dragging him to my car. "S'okay, I can walk."

I released him for just a second, giving him the benefit of the doubt, but as soon as he was on his own he twirled around and flopped to the ground, laughing pitifully at himself as he fell with a bang. "Ouch," he chuckled. "That actually… is painful."

I sighed, squatting down next to him, and looked into his eyes. I made to pick him up, but he stopped me.

"Not as painful as this," he muttered incoherently, placing his hand on his heart. "S'broken," he explained to me. "Marissa… she broken it."

"She broke it," I corrected him softly, removing a few hairs from on his forehead. "Marissa broke your heart."

Ryan nodded, and chuckled again. "Yup! She broken it!"

I sighed softly. "Come on, Ry. Let's get you home, okay? You need to sleep it off."

"What?" he asked; his eyes squinting at me.

"You need to sleepen it off, k?"

"K."

He was so different when he was drunk… he talked more, for one thing. I kind of liked it, but whenever he was drunk, there was a deep sense of pain in his eyes, and I definitely didn't like that.

He let me drag him to the car, and I had to lift his weight into the back seat, and after all the energy I exerted, I ended up breathless and collapsed flush against his chest. "Holy shit, you're heavy."

"Holy shit you're…" he mimicked me then stopped, and I looked up at him to check if he was still awake. He was, and his eyes locked onto mine, and suddenly he looked just as breathless as I was. "Holy shit you're beautiful."

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I would've done so many things if I had the energy. I would've gasped, blushed, smiled, and a lot of other actions that would include me looking like a moron. Even if I had the energy, I wouldn't have the time, because within seconds Ryan was on top of me, sliding his hand up my shirt and shoving his tongue down my throat.

I know it doesn't seem romantic. But I never felt as good as I did when he was in me.

Why did we never do it again?

Cause he's been sober since.

He and Marissa worked it out, and they're friends now. Marissa is with a new guy, Kyle, and Ryan is single. And sober.

But even though he was drunk, I was in the perfect state of clarity, and I knew very well that he was drunk and on the rebound, but somehow I tried to block out the taste of vodka and tequila on his tongue and the smell of intoxication at its worst, so that maybe I felt like he really thought I was beautiful.

So much for that. Wait till he sees me like a cow with a stomach worthy of a 'your momma's so fat' joke. Then I'll see it in his eyes that I'm not beautiful to him, and I never will be. It's then that I'm going to be sure that he'd never find out it's his. I wonder if he even remembers the feeling of the condom breaking when he was inside me. I really doubt it, 'cause he was so into the thrusting in and out part, it almost hurt. But it didn't. It felt good with my legs wrapped around his thighs, pushing him further into me with grunts of pleasure escaping both of us.

I wonder if Seth will think that somehow miraculously, even though he hadn't fucked me in years, the baby belonged to him. He'd probably work out some calculation with himself and Moses and Jesus that leads to history repeating itself, and he'd probably call me virgin Summer until I get a rage black out and cut his penis off, so he begs God that another virgin Mary will exist so he could start a family.

Suddenly the walls of my room grow closer to me, and I feel suffocated and confined, unable to move my trembling legs. Psychologically, my stomach grows a million pounds a second, and I can feel the baby inside me, pushing my knees down closer to the floor with its heaviness. But it's still too small to be heavy. I don't know that right now and I don't care, because I have to get out of here if I want oxygen.

I grab my keys as quick as I can, and within a matter of seconds, I'm speeding down the road to his house. Ryan's house. I would chug down a bottle of tequila to calm myself down, but I can't hurt the baby. Fuck, now I have to worry about a baby. Like I could take care of myself in the first place.

I bang on his door and it happens again. The million places at once thing. I don't even know how I got to his door this fast. When I glance back at my car, it's bizarrely parked in the driveway to his apartment complex, with one of the doors swung open and the keys probably still in the ignition.

But when Ryan opens the door, I completely forget about my potentially-robbed car and stare at him. I think of all the nice ways I can say the news to him. All the ways I can ease him into the subject. And after thinking about all of the ways I can say it carefully and cautiously and sweetly, I blurt out, "The condom broke."

Ryan is completely clueless, I can tell by his furrowed eyebrows and his dull blue eyes and the way he's standing so sluggishly at the door. If he had the slightest fucking clue what I was talking about he would've shot up straight, his body would be rigid, and his eyes would be distant with a million thoughts. I know Ryan, sober or not. I know him inside out.

"What? Who's condom? Summer, what's going on?"

"Shit!" I exclaim, grabbing my head and pacing in front of him in the door way. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Ryan's slowly beginning to worry and he wraps an arm around me, bringing me in the apartment and closing the door behind us. Us. I should never use that word. "Calm down, Summer. Just tell me what's going on and we'll work it out together."

I nod. "Okay, yeah."

"Good. Now tell me. What condom are you talking about?"

I stare into his eyes and shake my head, not believing that he was going to hear this from me. "The only one you and I ever used."

Now he's stiff, and his face's cold, and his eyes are in a daze – and he knows exactly what the fuck I'm talking about, and somehow it terrifies me.

"What do you mean it broke? How'd it break, Summer? You didn't… you didn't say anything."

"Ryan, you passed out when you were still inside me, what was I supposed to do? Wait till you wake up and go, 'Hey, Ryan, by the way, the condom you had on when you were piss drunk and fucking me? Yeah, it kind of broke.'"

"Yes!" he exclaims, and I take a deep breath. "You've known this since that day and you didn't even care to tell me?"

I collapse on the edge of his bed and burry my face in my hands, holding back tears. "You said I was beautiful," I mutter from behind my hands, and my voice comes out sort of muffled and at the same time broken.

Ryan's confused again, 'cause he squats down in front of me and tries to see past my hands through the slits between my fingers. "What?"

I sigh, taking my hands off my face, and I regret it instantly 'cause I feel the cold air cooling a wetness beneath my eyes, and I immediately realize I'm crying. "Before you fucked me… you said I was beautiful."

"Don't say that."

"Don't say what…?"

Ryan sighed, getting up from his place. "Don't say I fucked you. Don't say it that way."

"Oh, sorry Ryan, you 'slept' with me, is that better? Or, hey, we 'made love'. Right?" I say mockingly, staring into his eyes and suddenly I'm making more hand gestures than Seth. "Reality check, Ryan. Making love is for people who are actually in love."

Ryan sighed and stared into my eyes. "Are you pregnant?"

"Don't worry; I don't need anything from you."

"So that's a yes," he mutterers, and I roll my eyes. He sits next to me and places a hand on my back, but I move away.

"Last time you touched me, you were drunk as hell, which is why most people fuck up their lives. But I was sober, and I still fucked up mine, okay? So let me deal with the consequences, Ryan."

"For fuck's sake!" he yells suddenly, and his features become hard, almost scary as he shoots up from beside me and holds onto his head. But his features that had hardened for that heated second instantly soften and silence takes over us as he breathes deeply and throws his hands back to his sides. "Why are you attacking me?"

I look down, my lips trembling with the threat of more tears. "I'm sorry… I'm just, hormonal, I guess."

Ryan sighs loudly and begins to pace in front of me. "Are you keeping it?"

"I don't know if it wants me to keep it. I'll probably run off on it just like my mother did to me."

Ryan instantly stops pacing and stares directly at me, his eyes more serious than they've ever been. "Don't compare yourself to your mother."

It was like a direct order, and I couldn't do anything but look away. Ryan walks up to me and I can feel him hovering over me.

"Just…don't," he repeats, equally as sternly as the first time he said it.

He doesn't move from over me until I look up into his eyes, and his eyes grab onto mine with a vice grip, refusing to let go until I understand what he's said. "You're not you're mom. Don't make the mistake I did… okay?"

I nod, but I don't know what mistake he's talking about. "What mistake?"

He sighs, squatting down in front of me and breaking eye contact. He looks away as he lets go of the words, and they come out shaky and quiet, barely audible. "The mistake of thinking I was my dad."

"You're not your dad," I object instantly.

He looks up at me. "And you're not you're mom." He says it as if it's a plea. As if he's begging me to understand that.

"I'm sorry…" I apologize. "That I didn't tell you sooner."

"Well," he began saying, drawing in a shaky breath. "There's something I didn't tell you soon enough, either."

My eyes squint, and I try to read his features, but he keeps looking into my eyes and then away, over and over, as if he's trying to gaze into them but he can't, making him impossible to read. And the fact that Ryan is helpless to my eyes sends a throng of shivers marching down my spine, almost painfully, and for a second I vibrate at the chills that I feel.

"That night…" he admits. "In the car."

I nod. What other night? It's the only possible night we could talk about.

He stares up at me with such intensity, that I lose my breath instantly. "I didn't fuck you."

Now I was completely lost. What he was saying just didn't register in my mind, and I question him desperately with my eyes to explain to me, because if my heart hammered any harder or faster against my chest, my ribcage would probably shatter into a million pieces.

"I…" He stopped and swallowed hard. Looking up to my eyes, I can see his lips shiver with every shaky breath he takes in. "I made love to you."

"What…? You… Ryan, you're…" I stammer like an idiot.

He silences me with a kiss, and I'm completely unaware of what's going on as the force of his body pushes me back on the bed gingerly, and before I can let his tongue explore my mouth, he brakes away and stares down at me.

"Because making love," he says in a whisper, "is for people who are actually in love."

"Oh," I say in shock, as if I just understood, and then I lose my voice and I breathe out an inaudible, "Oh my God, Ryan…you're… you're serious."

"And you're beautiful," he whispers to me, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. "And I want you to know that. Alright?"

I nod, but I don't believe him yet, until he tells me the words that engrave themselves in my mind forever.

"The reason this kid wants you to have it is that you're not your mom and I'm not my dad." He stares into my eyes and strokes a hair out of my face. "And that all it needs to know."