AMELIA

It's past eleven at night, and Jake is calling me multiple times. I'm guessing he saw my location, where I made a fuss until I got to see a gynecologist without an appointment. I anxiously asked the nurses to speed up the tests. My fingers are shaking, waiting at the gynecologist's office for the results.

"When was your last sexually transmitted infection screening?" The older woman with braids asks me while I lay on the test bench, experiencing the utmost disgrace of my life because of that pisser with a hole in his ribs.

"This is my first time."

"Have you used any form of contraception, and if so, which methods?"

"No." I shake my head, nibbling on my bottom lip to stop myself from blushing, but of course, I must look as embarrassed as I feel inside.

"How often have you engaged in unprotected intercourse?" she asks.

Breath, Amy. Breath!

I knew someday I must have to be at my first gynecologist meeting, but I didn't plan for it to be this spontaneous. Look at my life now. I had sex without caution, like an illiterate, and I'm paying for it with my life.
"This is my first time," I mumble, sounding brittle.

"Hey, it's okay. Calm down, okay?" She pats my knee with a maternal smile on her face that's reassuring. "Now tell me, have you experienced any unusual symptoms, such as pain or discomfort?"

Sniffing, I take a moment to think, but all those thoughts are fear; they race in my mind with danger warning. "I guess... I guess no. Maybe it's too soon to tell." I stammer, tears burning at the back of my eyes. I shudder.

She smiles at me for support, patting my knees continuously. "Can you provide details about the nature of the unprotected sex you had, such as whether it involved ejaculation?" Her stare is encouraging, I look down at my hands fidgeting with the hem of my dress. "I-I can't tell. I was drunk. I don't know how it all happened." He says there was nothing like that, but I would only be stupid to trust a barbaric liar like him.

The woman looks sad, but she goes on with the questions, "Where are you in your menstrual cycle?"

"I'm currently in the second week of my cycle," I reply.

"Do you know your partner's AIDS status?"

That's a very good question, bringing throbbing in my chest. "He says he's positive," I answer timidly in a tremulous voice, my lips quivering.

"Amelia, you don't have to panic." She looks down at the screen of her iPad and continues, "I have one result with me now."

My throat goes dry. The pit in my stomach deepens with every moment of anxious anticipation. I readjust on the bench, wringing my fingers, as her face turns solemn and engrossed on the screen.

We're on the topic of AIDS, which means she's looking at my fate.

"The pregnancy results are negative," she says, and in that moment, my mind only goes to Mom, and I thank God. That woman would flip at pregnancy being my concept of college results. But the universe refuses to reduce my efforts in her eyes.

However, that's not all; I have a bigger answer ahead of me. Will I live? Will I not live?

"And my health?" I ask as the suspense twists my stomach in knots.

"We have to wait for tomorrow to find out. I will have you set in my appointments. Okay?"

I'm a bit disappointed as the fear and unease still live within me without the answer, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to hear it, so I nod.

"However, if you're not ready for pregnancy, then I will suggest you need to find a suitable contraception. Are you open to follow-up tests and screenings, and we can help you see to that?" She smiles warmly.

"Do you normally offer that?" I ask her.

"No, but you seem clueless and young," she kindly says. "You remind me of my daughter, who unfortunately doesn't open up to me, and now she's a teen mom without the support of the father. You say you're in Portland to study, and what happened occurs while you're drunk, which becomes your first. I will advise you to think wisely and be careful of your environment and the circle you go out with."

Oddly, I feel at ease listening to her.
"Thank you."

She returns a smile and hands me her card. "I will see you tomorrow then."

I leave the hospital despite not having all the answers but more content than I thought. When I walk forty minutes toward Cameron's house, I only feel the opposite of tiredness.

Along the way, a few streets close to the house, a taxi stops, giving me chills in the middle of the night, but Jake's head pops out of it before I could run.

Relieved, I join him; he's on the phone with the company's new editor, mostly listening, so we don't talk and only sneakily kiss and cuddle until we reach the mansion. He pays the cab driver, holding my hand toward the driveway and the porch.

Jake shakes his head as his eyes cross over the asshole I carved there, and I hold back a smile for the first time about it.

His call ends when we step into the house, and I'm taking off my shoes, sitting on the soft bench there, and stretching my legs.

"You were at the hospital this late?" he first says, and a sinking feeling settles in my stomach.

What will I tell him?

"I-"

"Are you okay?" He begins reaching over, but afraid he might see right through me, for he knows me well, I hastily get up and step ahead into the living room.

"Yup," I reply.

The TV is on, showing some commentary about the UFC matches, and Cameron is on the couch, passed out.

His sight pulls up an idea to my tongue. "Cameron was stabbed," I blurt, turning to Jake. If I can steer his worry somewhere else, I can be out of his inquisitive concern.

And it works; Jake becomes pale and somehow appears overly alarmed.

"What?" he carefully asks me as he scrambles to Cam's sprawling magazine photoshoot pose body. "Yo, man? Get up. You're alive, right?" he says, and for a moment, I pause and watch admiringly and emotionally how Jake cares for Cam like they're true brothers. He's gently tapping his cheeks, looking distraught as he lifts the black shirt Cam is wearing and sees the wound. The pain on his face breaks my heart.

Cam's eyes open, disoriented for a moment before he recognizes his surroundings.

"You are back?"

"Yes. Why didn't you call me?" Jake asks him, and his eyes find me, evidently burning with authority. If that's his way of negotiating not wanting me to say anything, then it only fuels me to speak.

Not new!

"Some men attacked him while he was harassing a girl, and it ended up like this," It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was far from the truth. My mouth twitched as he darted daggers at me but can't deny it. I guess he has the inkling of fear for Jake knowing the truth, so I taunt him even more, without having a defense against me. Just as he did to me the other day. "The girl slapped him and he made some improper remarks about her naked body. It was unforgivable. I guess she's engaged to one of the men at the scene." I added with raised brows, and Jake's face turned blank as he stared at his friend.

"Oh Cam, I told you this wouldn't end well. You're pissing certain men." Jake sighs in frustration, and the contempt and exasperation on Cam's face give me assurance I will sleep like a baby today.

"I offered to take him to the hospital, but his ego is longer than the country mile. He wouldn't go." I abrasively mock and look away, his jaw clenched. It's really fun to watch him tense before Jake with nothing to do. "I had to go get him some drugs, but unfortunately, I can't just get prescriptions without seeing a doctor. Now my legs are tired; I will go to bed."

"Okay, honey. I will be right behind you," Jake says, and I excitedly hum in acknowledgment.

"Yes, please rest. I can't imagine how tough it is to tolerate the aftermath of what you didn't cause." Cam sounds bristling. I purr at him, irritating him more, and shrug, heading up to Jake and my room.

I don't sleep as I predicted; my mind is a whirlwind of reflections, from my first night here, the entire time with Cam, things his body does to mine, even though mostly are a blur, and then I think about where these lies could lead me to, and then the possibility that I will be diagnosed with one of those deadliest diseases, and then I think about the way Cam instinctively holds me aside and lets a blade puncture his torso. Maybe it was human reflexes or maybe he's not as bad as he shows up all the time, although that probability is way too low. But on top of that, he didn't fight Carl because I was in the middle, he could just pushed me away but he didn't. He let me stop him.

He might say whatever will let him sleep at night, but something tells me he won't let me get hurt by anyone. I toss and turn, hear when Jake joins me in bed; it's over an hour since I left him with Cam. I pretend to be deep asleep, and he only kisses my head and turns off the lights.