Sunlight streamed through the blinds, pulling Betty from a restless sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the familiar surroundings—the messy desk littered with textbooks, the faint smell of cologne, and the low hum of a ceiling fan.
Panic set in as the events of the previous night rushed back. Marcus took her to his place, and she spent the night there.
She sat up abruptly, clutching the blanket to her chest, her eyes landing on her crumpled emerald dress tossed carelessly on the floor.
"Relax, Bethany.” Marcus voice sounded behind her. He peeked at her through half-lidded eyes, smirking faintly. “No one’s going to bust down the door."
Betty glared at him, her cheeks flushing. "I shouldn’t be here," she said sharply, sliding off the bed and reaching for her dress.
"You didn’t seem to think that last night."
"That was a mistake.".
"If that’s what you need to tell yourself, go ahead."
She froze for a moment, before turning to glare at him. "This doesn’t mean anything."
"Doesn’t it?" He leaned closer dropping a teasing smile.
Betty shoved her shoes into her hand and stormed toward the door. "You’re impossible," she muttered under her breath.
"You’re gorgeous," Marcus called after her, before she slammed the door behind her.
***
Betty’s heels clicked against the dorm hallway as she hurried toward the exit, her heart pounding. She felt exposed, like everyone she passed could see exactly what she’d done.
As she pushed open the heavy front doors and stepped into the bright morning sun, she exhaled shakily, the fresh air doing little to calm her nerves. She tugged the straps of her dress higher, wishing she could disappear entirely.
"You’re Betty?" The voice stopped her in her tracks, her stomach twisting as she turned to see Megan standing a few feet away.
Her blonde curls shone in the sunlight, and her small but noticeable baby bump was framed by a snug sweater.
"Who are you?" Betty asked, her voice colder than she intended.
"Megan. I heard a lot about you.” She put her hands protectively over her belly.
Betty’s stomach dropped. “You’re the girl that Brent…”
“That Brent got pregnant, yes.”
"What are you doing here?”
"Marcus’s my cousin.".
The world seemed to tilt around Betty. "Your cousin?" she repeated, the realization slamming into her like a freight train.
“Can we talk, Betty? Please?”.
Marcus. Megan. Brent. The puzzle pieces fit together almost too perfectly, but the picture they painted made her chest ache.