Have Kids, Then We'll Talk

“Fuck.” A foreign voice follows up a hand hitting me hard in the face and waking me. Too tired to comprehend the voice and a head that felt like a lead brick, I turn over and settle into the sheets, exposing my feet to the chilled morning air, and burying my head into the soft pillow beneath me.

Mindless rambling about having cold feet escape my mouth as something stirs behind me. I can feel it, hear the person -whoever it is- moving around the room. But my eyes are too heavy to open and search for the person, and my head feels like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.

“Madie...” That foreign voice returns. Soft and masculine... almost familiar, as a hand takes its gentle grip over shoulder, nudging me awake and into reality- well, reality is close. Forcing my eyes to open, a blurred figure is standing in front of me at the edge of the bed. I take a moment to close my eyes, re-opening and trying to gain vision.

A pair of chocolate eyes is the first thing to come into focus. They are looking straight at me, and a memory flashes before my eyes; those same eyes, clouded with alcohol and lust. I had longed for those eyes, wanted those eyes... That was my last vague drunken memory.

A face attaches itself to the eyes and the sudden reality of the situation hits me like a basketball in the face during gym class.

“Oh my god!” I shout, my body moving in shock, propelling me off the pillow and away from the boy in front of me. The chill that had attacked my feet, hits my chest and I cringe in realisation that my breasts are on display to the world. Great.

“Can you not yell?” Dick Wentz winces and my hands fumble to cover my body with the bed sheets after his eyes don’t even hesitate to steal a glance.

It’s one thing to wake up with a massive hangover and a vague memory of the events from the night before. But it’s even worse to find yourself naked in front of some guy dressed only in his boxer shorts, with no recollection of how you’d gotten there. But here I was sitting in his bed, half of me feeling violated, the other half wishing it could remember how I got here. .. As well as the event that had obviously taken place.

My own eyes are stuck on his, as he closes them and inhales deeply, ashamed words following; “I think we did something stupid.” He looks away to the ground and starts moving, picking clothing off the floor and I groan to myself.

“Stupid, is an understatement.” I mutter as Dick dumps a pile of clothing onto the bed which I identify as my own and he proceeds to sit down on the side, back towards me and facing away. A sigh escapes and I pull the pile towards me, dreading to put the dirty clothes back onto my body as I search through them and notice the absence of one vital piece; “Where the fuck is my bra?”

“Hell if I know,” he mutters casually, staring at the wall opposite him and leave me speaking to the bare skin of his back. Oh, you’re such a great fucking help, Wentz.

Did I mention that when you wake up next to a guy naked and he’s an absolute jerk to you, it makes the situation of sleeping with strangers about a million times more frustrating? Although, Dick wasn’t a stranger, and I was attracted to him... only a little. So, maybe this whole thing isn’t as bad as I first thou- No. No Madie. It’s bad, bad, bad, bad. No matter who the guy is.

I tug my shirt with frustration over my head, bra or no bra. He continues to keep his back faced at me as I shuffle about on the dirty sheets, pulling on underwear followed by my skirt and then getting off the bed in search of the elusive bra. That’s another thing about drunken sex; you tend to lose important articles of clothing.

“I’m clean, just so you know,” he speaks again, his eyes focused on the floor. Clean? Hah. He’s the son of Pete Wentz. But his words stir a different worrying thought in the back of my mind.

“Tell me you used a condom?” I can feel my heart beat speed up and I dread the answer that follows.

“I don’t think I did.” He leans towards the floor, picking up a small plastic packet and waving it in the air. My heart skips a beat at the sight- either that or it stopped completely.

Oh fuck... The sight of that unused condom in his hands was unexpected, almost too much for my hung over brain to even try and comprehend. My body went numb, beginning in my gut and working its way through the rest of my body. I was just shocked, real shocked. Did I remember to take my pill last night? My head was throbbing so bad that I couldn’t concentrate on whether I did or not.

What if I am...? No, I’m sure I took the pill.

I drag my feet across the room, now officially given up search for the bra and bury my head into my hands, knotted hair falling over my hands as I shake my head. I’m sure I took the pill, don’t worry Madie. Fucking Dick Wentz.

“Sorry.” He sounded almost apathetic as he tossed the unused condom away and it landed somewhere on the floor away from the foot of his bed.

Sorry? Sorry!? Right, because sorry cuts it. There’s no way you could possibly be pregnant because the boy tells you that he’s sorry!

With my head still buried in my hands, I try to bite back the frustration that was rearing its way through my body towards my mouth.
“Why!? What the fuck was I thinking!?” I guess I wasn’t thinking when my drunken self permitted to unprotected sex. Now here I was, left with no one to be angry at but myself...and possibly Dick. He has responsibility to, you know. It’s not just up to the girl.

“Being drunk means having no regrets,” he whispers with the slightest tinge of remorse to his voice, and I fight off the sudden urge to give him a back-hander.

“No regrets,” I repeat with a heavy sigh. The only regret would be if I didn’t take my pill. Sleeping with him wasn’t the problem, the problem was the fact he didn’t use a condom. He was a jerk, a player with rumours floating around about all the girls he’d been with. How knows what STD’s he could be caring!? ...although, somewhere in the back of my mind I had known all this, and almost wanted this to happen...well, not the unprotected part at least. I guess you could say- I only came to the party out of interest in him.

But that wasn’t the point right now, it doesn’t matter whether I’m attracted to him or not. The asshole forgot to wear a condom and I couldn’t even remember if I took my pill the night before from the alcohol that had plagued my body and blocked my thought process.

“I could be- no. No. No. No.” A shiver runs down my spine, and my whole body shakes in response.

“At least find out if you’re pregnant before you start freaking out on me.” There was that urge to give him a back-hander again. Did he have to say the word I was purposely avoiding? He just sighs and continues speaking, his apathetic tone still in-tact and I refuse to even look at him; “Just go.”

“Oh yeah, because that’s easy for you to say,” the frustration breaks through my voice and quickly turns into anger from his casual tone about the whole situation, not to mention that he was basically kicking me out. With all the control I could muster, I fight the anger back and take my lift my head from my hands, only to catch a glimpse of what I had been looking for moments ago -my bra. The flimsy article of clothing was draped over his desk chair and I march over to grab it, still determined to speak my mind. “Because, if I am, you can easily go on living your life- no regrets.” The two last words slip from my mouth like poison and he flinches.

Turning away with another huff of frustration I attempt try to put my bra on without flashing the world once more. I feel his gaze on me, his eyes boring into my back as I struggle with the clasp and getting the straps over my shoulders while wearing a shirt already and my cheeks burn with embarrassment ever so slightly. It was a... awkward situation.

“If you are pregnant, we’ll figure it out.” That’s nice, at least. He’s partly decent and not just abandoning me. I guess he is a goo- “Now, unless you’re going to help me clean, can you please leave?” Asshole. I take that back. But yet, why do I find myself oddly attracted to him? There is something about him that intrigues me, even through the arrogance; something that was hidden beneath the surface. Perhaps there is more to Dick Wentz than meets the eye... perhaps not.

“Fine, I’m going,” I say stubbornly, shoving my attraction towards him to the back of my mind and storming to the bedroom door, swinging it open, only to be greeted by the smell of stale alcohol and a floor covered in bottles. At least it was better than a room full of tension which smelt like sex.

You know, I’m sure I took the pill last night. It’s not as bad as it looks.

“Seriously, if you are pregnant, we’ll get through it,” he yells from his bedroom as I search for my bag which had housed my sidekick and other various items from the night before. It would only help if I could remember where I left it.

“And how do you suppose we’ll do that?” I groan, walking past his doorway to see he’d flung himself back on the bed and was now staring at the ceiling. His dark hair was a mess and was covering half his face, but it didn’t seem to bother him- he looked fucking hot- Shake that thought.
“You’ve probably got some girlfriend to attend to, while I’d have to face my dad.” My dad, oh god. New problem. He was the last person on earth that I would want to face.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. I haven’t had a girlfriend since I left Chicago,” he returns and I smile to myself with some hope. He didn’t have a girlfriend...no, he was a jerk- a hot one at that. No. You don’t care, Madie, if he has a girlfriend or not. I really need to stop thinking about him, and focus on getting out of this apartment.

“Why not?” I ask curiously before I could stop myself. A guy like him is usually sure to have a girl.

“Chicago girls are prettier,” he says smugly, his comment causing me to throw the jacket I’d found myself holding back onto the floor fiercely and land with a small thud, a tinge of jealously now flowing through my veins. He continues talking, something about Manhattan and a girl... something I couldn’t make out fully coming from his bedroom.

But I stop still, and my feet plant themselves firmly into the ground. We are in Manhattan, I’m a girl....what the fuck had he said!?

“What did you say?” I ask, walking back into the bedroom and leaning against the door frame and determined to know. He turns his head away from the ceiling to look at me with those same eyes, and I feel a weakness in my knees, before sighing and turning away to focus back on the off-white tinge of colour painted on the roof.

“Nothing important.”

“Tell me.” There was a hidden force driving my words, I just had to know.

He turned his gaze back onto my face to give me a dirty glare, mumbling; “I said you were pretty, is all.”

There goes that weakness in my knees again... He thought I was pretty? Is that a good thing? I’m not sure.... He’s still a jerk.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve already slept with me,” I mutter, embarrassed, quickly turning away from him as my cheeks burn a deep rouge.

“No,” he says smugly from behind. “I only sleep with girls who I think are beautiful.”

Another smile creeps its way onto my face and I don’t reply, instead going back in search for my handbag. I don’t get this guy... He tells me to leave, but then he has the hide to tell me I’m beautiful. What the fuck was he getting at?

“I hate having parties,” he groans, changing the subject and walking into the main room, examining the floor of his apartment; now littered in plastic cups and bottles. I wonder if he’ll notice the dark beer stains on his father’s carpet.

“Then why have them?”

“Cred. Rep. Gotta keep up appearances.” His response causes my eyes to roll. Was that all he was about? Popularity? I was beginning to wonder if there was any substance to the dark haired stunner that I’d so carelessly slept with while drunk.

“I’m sure as hell not cleaning this myself,” he continues, grabbing the phone off the wall and dialling for the maids that worked in the building. Don’t blame him; I wouldn’t want to clean this mess up either. People had knocked over lamps and I think I saw broken glass on the floor somewhere.

Ignoring him for the time being, I continue my search, coming across the black material of my handbag which had been buried under someone’s abandoned hoodie. A hoodie which smelt like the person had just about died in it. Although, what was under the hoodie and next to the handbag was...how could you put it? Interesting?

I pick up the baby blue coloured bra and wave it at Dick, who had sat himself down in a chair and was watching me intently.

“People definitely have fun at your parties,” I mutter, dropping the bra back onto the floor away from my feet. Briefly remembering how I had managed to lose my own in his bedroom. You know, come to think of it, that bra looks suspiciously like one which belongs to Cassie Lee...

He shrugs, eyes keeping level with mine and not bothered by the bra on his living room floor and I instantly forget about the my suspicions of its owner; “They just like how outrageous I am after I get drunk and all the fucking alcohol and drugs I have.”

“Drugs?” He casually reaches over the side of the chair to pick up a red and white striped popcorn bucket, tilting it to display the marijuana inside it. “...oh.” So clueless sometimes, Madie.

I crouch down to pick up my handbag, not really in the mood to display my behind to Dick in the short skirt I had worn, although I can’t deny that he’s already seen it anyway...

“Got everything?” he asks cheekily, a smile across his face as he watches me search my handbag to check that its contents were still intact. I’d die without my sidekick.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” I say, snapping the ebony handbag shut and shoving it under my arm, pleased on knowing its contents and my beloved sidekick were exactly where they were meant to be.

“Nothing, just asking if you have everything. If you do, then can you...” he pauses, picking his words carefully and trying to avoid eye contact. “Leave?” Ugh...the nerve.

“I wasn’t planning on staying,” I snap quickly and without a second though, turn away and approach to the door which would let me be free of this apartment, and the dickhead I was finding myself attracted to despite his apparent attitude.

A hidden force comes into play, and I stop just as my hand takes hold of the bronze door handle, gripping it tightly and my teeth automatically bite down on my bottom lip.

“This was...a mistake,” I mutter, looking at him and choosing my words carefully, partly dreading what I was saying. It wasn’t a mistake, a part of me was glad it happened. He’d intrigued me through the week leading up to Saturday, and I was caught in his trap. That’s why I had come last night. “It meant nothing, right?”

He only shrugs, like he couldn’t care less. “Sure, if you want it that way.” I shut my eyes, I knew it. I was nothing more than another fuck to him.

I close my eyes and sigh, opening them to taking one last look at him and taking in his appearance fully for the first time that morning. Shirtless, in his boxer shorts and looking amazing with hair that fell into his dark eyes... ohmygod. I had to get out of there.
I shut my eyes again, shaking his image from my mind and opening the door, turning back to add one last thought. “If I am pregnant, you’re never going to see the light of day again.”

“If you’re pregnant, we’re naming the kid Dick Jnr,” he snorts, and I throw him a glare before slamming the door behind me.

What a jerk. What an asshole. What a...dickhead. Was I nothing more than another girl he got the chance to screw? And yet, I couldn’t shake the strange attraction to him I was feeling. Like, he had made his way into my mind and wouldn’t leave.

Fuck.

I’m sure I took the pill.