Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (16 page)

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, Superman. You’re behind in your next class. I don’t think Clark Kent can graduate in your place.”

I remove my hand from between her legs and yawn. “I’m bored. Let’s go do something.”

Esther glances out the windows. “And what would that look like? Go swimming across campus?”

I laugh quietly but the library assistant catches my eye and gives me a stern look. “I’m itching to just
do
something. Don’t you want to?”

Esther sighs and folds up the stack of syllabi, handing them back to me. “Since you’re obviously not going to study, why not?”

I glance at the assistant. She’s buried in the computer again. I have an idea. “I’m going to walk upstairs to the third floor. Meet me by the emergency exit up there. But take your time and make sure the assistant sees you sitting here for about five minutes before you get up to leave, alright? And take the front staircase by the entrance to the library. It’ll look like you’re leaving.”

I stand up with my backpack and walk over to the assistant. I flash her my patented Saint Williams smile. She scowls.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for a Tolstoy book. Can you help me with that?”

She doesn’t even look it up. “Third floor. Sixth row. Top shelf.”

“Thank you so, so much. I really appreciate it.” I smile at her again but she’s immovable. Whatever. I just needed a reason to go up to the third floor without suspicion. “Oh, and I saw someone in the technology section re-shelving books without really looking.”

She groans and takes off her glasses, tucking them into the top of her sweater. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” I rap my knuckles on the countertop twice and head for the staircase. Now I’ve put the assistant close to Esther, right where I want her.

I run up the stairs and wait.

Esther appears almost ten minutes later, and I’m nearly falling asleep standing up. The dusty shelves are empty of any humans. “There you are,” I say.

“I needed to make it look extra believable,” she replies.

I kiss her on the lips. “Did Miss Priss see you leaving?”

Esther shakes her head. “She saw me get up from the table and I assume it will just look like I was headed for the entrance.”

I kiss her again. “Perfect.”

“What can I say? I take instruction well,” she replies with a sexy grin.

I squeeze her hips and pull her closer to me. “I know that’s true.”

We make out for several minutes before Esther pulls away. “We’re not having sex up here, are we?”

I take her by the hand and push open the emergency exit. No alarm sounds as I open it. Just like I knew it wouldn’t.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Esther whispers to me. “I thought for sure the alarm was going to go off!”

I laugh and turn the lights on. The staircase here is only accessible through this door. The lamplight fills the mahogany-paneled staircase.

“How do you know about this?” Esther asks me as we walk up the narrow staircase.

“My girlfriend freshman year worked in the library. She saw the Dean come in here once.”

“What’s up here?” Esther asks as we climb.

“You’ll see.” I open the glass-filled wooden door. “After you.”

Esther steps inside. It’s cacophonous in here because of the rainstorm.

“This used to be a greenhouse,” I explain to her loudly as she looks in awe at the fogged-up glass room. The walls and ceiling are an intricate grid of metal and glass panes.

“When I saw this place from the ground, I thought it was just a decorative feature,” Esther says incredulously.

“I think only five people on campus know about it,” I explain. I pull her close to me. “I thought we could get some privacy up here for a few minutes.”

Esther smiles at me, relaxing as I unbutton her sweater. “Only a few minutes? You’ve been lasting longer than that these days.”

“Very funny,” I reply, burying myself in her tits while she groans. “The best part of this place?”

“What?”

“You can scream as loud as you want to and nobody will hear us above the rain.”

“Is that a challenge?”

It is a challenge. And she rises to the occasion.

***

“…thinking that we need to get you an agent. It’s absurd that you don’t have one yet.” My dad is droning on through the phone. I can hardly stand the sound of his voice. Rain, wind, and hail have been drowning the campus over the last week. The sound of the wind howling through the gaps in my dorm window has had me on edge for days.

But I’d gladly take the howling wind for another six months if it meant not talking to my father.

“Yeah, I’m considering a few different guys right now,” I reply, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I look over at Rick, who’s zoned out to a Star Wars marathon on television. I wave at him.
Help me
, I mouth. He just laughs and goes back to watching television.

“You’ve been considering agents without me?” My dad is furious; just like I knew he’d be. This is why I put off talking to him for this long. I know he wants a piece of my signing bonus. I’m determined to not give it to him.

My phone buzzes and I see it’s a text from Esther. “Dad, I’ve got to go. I have studying to do.”

“Son, this conversation isn’t over,” he says.

I hang up on him. I’ll deal with his rage another day. “God, that was bad.”

Rick mumbles assent from his side of the room. “You knew it would be.”

“Didn’t make it any easier,” I retort. I slide over to my messaging app.

I need to talk to you. Meet me at our place in the library.

That’s all it says. I look out at the rain and I know that Esther must mean business. “Be back in a bit.”

“Where are you going in this storm?” Rick asks.

“Dining hall,” I lie easily.

“Bring me back some strawberry milk.”

“That shit will kill you.”

“Perfect,” Rick grunts. “Then I won’t have to take exams.”

I don’t even bother with a raincoat; every single time I put one on I end up just as soaked as I do without it. I run through the storm toward the library, pausing at the door to catch my breath.

Nobody is at the front desk, which is perfect. The last thing I want is someone yelling at me for dripping all over the floor. I sprint up the staircase to the third floor, passing students deep into their studies. I’m confident I’m not seen as I push open the emergency door quietly.

The lights are already on in the stairwell, which means Esther is already here. I find her sitting on the dusty velvet couch we fucked on the other day. She has her face in her hands.

“Hey, Delilah,” I say quietly, sitting next to her. The cushion sighs as I sink into it. “What’s the matter?”

She pulls her hands away from her face. It’s puffy, red, and swollen. She’s been crying for a long time. “I have s-s-s-something I n-n-need to t-t-tell you,” she stammers.

“Alright,” I reply, feeling dread building in my stomach.

“I’m pregnant.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ESTHER

I’d played the scenario in my head a dozen times all morning while I sat in the old greenhouse alone. I was so thankful that Saint had told me about this place; it’s the only place on campus where I could cry and nobody would hear me.

I wasn’t ready to tell Romy yet.

How could I?

I’d sat here, thinking and crying and wondering what Saint’s reaction would be. I thought he might storm from the room, beg me to end the pregnancy, or just generally freak out.

“I’m pregnant,” I say to him.

He blinks twice. “Okay.”

His response shocks the tears back into my body. “Okay? That’s all you have to say? You’re not…angry?”

Saint shrugs and wraps one arm around me, pulling me to his chest. “Are you okay? That’s what I’m worried about right now.”

I push him away. “No, I’m not okay! How could I be okay? How on
Earth
could I be okay? I’m pregnant. You heard that part, right?”

Saint nods. “I did hear that part.”

“And you’re not worried. Of course. You’re not the one who has to walk around with a pregnant belly, this big scarlet letter, this enormous, GUESS WHAT, I FUCKED SOMEONE billboard for nine months.”

“More like six months. Probably way fewer, my mom said she didn’t show at all until month seven-“

“Shut up!” I yell, standing up. “Shut the fuck up. Just stop.”

Saint gapes at me. “Okay, I’m more freaked out by you repeatedly dropping f-bombs than I am about you being pregnant.”

I laugh darkly, emotion and hormones coursing through my bloodstream. “How are you so calm?”

Saint actually laughs. He
laughs
. Which just makes me even more angry. “I have to be calm, because you aren’t calm.”

“
Of course I’m not calm, I’m having a baby, Saint.”
I kick my foot hard against the sofa frame. My toes sting and I immediately regret it.

Saint leans back against the sofa and a grin appears on his face.
A grin
. “You about done being angry?”

I cross my arms. “Almost.”

“Well, that’s a shame. It’s been refreshing to see you actually let out some emotion for once. I’d hate to see it end so soon.” He’s still smiling. He’s still
actually
smiling. Incredible.

I wipe tears from my eyes and take a deep breath. “So, Mister Calm. What do you propose we do?”

“Exactly that,” he replies.

I look at him, confused. “Exactly
what
?”

“I propose. Well, we court first for a few weeks. Then I propose to you,” he says.

This response nearly knocks me off of my feet. This can’t be real. I shake my head. “Oh, so you court me, graduate and get your contract safely, but I get left behind here and give birth mid-semester, destroying my plans for getting my degree.” I smack my hand against my forehead angrily. “And you never marry me, which, of course not. And that’s all assuming I don’t end up expelled for being pregnant, which I almost certainly will. You get off without any kind of blemish. I’ll just be the girl you left behind to carry your child.” I start to pace again. “You’ll send me a child support payment every month, and go off and be with your supermodels and groupies and-“

My eyes are so full of tears I don’t notice Saint has stood up until I run into him. He grabs my forearms and crouches slightly to meet my eye line. “Delilah. Look at me,” he says.

“What!?” I yell at him.

“I won’t have
groupies
. I’m not a rockstar. I’m a football player.”

I scoff. “Close enough. It doesn’t matter, Saint.”

“Look at me. Esther. Look at me.”

Him actually using my name to address me is what shakes me out of my shock and unsettledness. I look at him. “What?”

He squeezes my arms. “I want to marry you. To actually marry you. To have this baby with you. That’s what I want.”

“But what about school? And your career? And my education?”

He shakes his head and pulls me closer. “You can transfer to a university near wherever I end up. Hopefully someplace sunny and warm like Los Angeles. You can have the baby. We’ll get a nanny, and you can go to classes when you’re ready. You can finish your education. It’ll all be fine.”

“Are you…proposing to me?” I ask him, feeling my nausea return.

He shakes his head. “You’ll know when I’m proposing to you. Trust me. It won’t be like this.”

The rain quickens its pace and the wind shakes the glass dome we’re standing under. Saint pulls me in for a kiss and I return it.

It’s a perfect plan.

So why doesn’t it feel like one?

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

ESTHER

I stand outside the clinic for a good thirty minutes, trying to make it look like I’m reading a book under the shade of an enormous oak tree. The rain has finally cleared and the sun has been shining brilliantly. The air is full of the scent of purple irises and freshly-mown grass. The valley has sprung into full bloom.

But I’m not here to enjoy the weather.

The taste of stomach acid has permanently lodged itself in the back of my throat. I can’t take a single day more of nausea. I need help.

But that’s going to require going to the campus clinic. I can’t afford to go to a doctor and have my parents question why I used my debit card on medical services when it could have gone under insurance. I can’t use the insurance because the codes will let my mom and dad know that I’m there for pre-natal care.

The campus clinic is my only option. And it’s arguably the worst option there is.

I finally step into the old, converted house that contains the clinic. The floorboards are bowed and sagging and creak under my feet. The air smells like mothballs and lemon wood polish. Nobody’s at the front desk. I peer around the corner.

“Hello?” I call out. My heart is pounding and part of me thinks this is a sign. I should just turn around and go back to my dorm room already. My hand is perched on the doorknob when I hear footsteps coming down the creaking wooden staircase.

“Sorry,” says a short, round woman with grey hair. “I was upstairs. How can I help you?”

“I, uh. I’ve come down with that stomach virus that’s going around and I’m having some residual nausea. I was hoping I could get a prescription for something, maybe?”

The woman squirts hand sanitizer into her hands and rubs them together. “We can get you sorted out. I’m Dr. Smith,” she says. “Head back into an exam room and we’ll see what’s going on.”

I grasp my book bag like it’s a life preserver on a sinking ship and follow her into the back room. I sit on the exam table and see the stirrups sticking out. Someone forgot to push them all the way back in. My stomach does a somersault.

You need a full exam
, says this obnoxious little voice in my head.
Don’t be irresponsible
.
Tell her that you’re having a baby.

Dr. Smith shuts the door and pulls up a rolling chair. “So, what seems to be the trouble?”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, my words working faster than the part of my brain that wants this to be a secret.