That Baby: A Small Town, Friends-to-Lovers Romance (That Boy Series Book 3)

Mrs. Mackenzie’s voice is ragged and stressed.

I catch certain key words. JJ. Car accident. Hospital.

I’m turning the car around to head to the hospital before I even hang up.

It’s like déjà vu.

I’m drunk, lying in my dorm and thinking about her. I can still feel the softness of her sweater and the coolness of her skin against my warm hand. I’m thinking about those mile-long legs in dark jeans that hugged her curves.

I can hear one of the twins tell me how That Asshole Jake—that’s what Phillip and I called him whenever Jay wasn’t around—brought another girl to the party. He goes on about the girl’s massive boobs while I watch Jay struggle to get across the field in the high heels she’s wearing. As much as I want to immediately go beat the living shit out of Jake, I find myself jogging after her.

She has a little meltdown. The cutest babbling meltdown. Of course, my horny teen mind focuses on one detail. The thong she says she’s wearing. Jay has always been cute. She’s always been my friend. And, really, she is the only girl friend I have. Every other girl is just sex.

And, suddenly, I see my chance—that perfect crease in the defense where I know I can run straight through to the end zone.

I shut her up with my lips.

She’s surprised when I kiss her, but her lips quickly get in sync. Kind of like when I taught her how to kiss and we kissed for hours—but hotter. She’s better at it. Her tongue not unsure.

I want to throw her in the backseat of Lisa’s car, strip her clothes off, and do her.

And, if she were any other girl, that’s exactly what I’d do.

But this is Jay. She deserves better.

I stop kissing her. I have to, or I’ll go against my better judgment.

She freaks out. Worries she’s become a bad kisser.

And from somewhere in my memory comes the perfect line straight from her own smart-ass lips.

“Well, I can’t be sure.” I laugh. “The line judge didn’t have a clear view, the side judge over there was watching the cheerleaders, and since there’s no instant replay available”—I shrug my shoulders and tilt my head—“I’m just gonna have to call a do-over.”

“You’re a cheater,” she says.

“Better than being a liar,” I fire back.

But it’s the sexy way she looks at me that causes my mouth to find hers again.

I don’t want to stop kissing her.

But I have to.

Or I’m going to do something I’ll regret. Because, right now, my dick is voting for the backseat.

“Uh, let’s go get a beer, Jay.”

She doesn’t look convinced and gives me a pout. It’s that face, that look, that has always stopped both Phillip and me dead in our tracks.

It’s not her sassiness. Or her intelligence. Those things we’ll fight her tooth and nail on, but when she whips out the pout, she always wins.

When I first moved to the neighborhood in sixth grade, I made her cry. Phillip told me, if I ever made her cry again, he’d punch me until I cried. He had a fierceness about him, and to this day, I’ve never doubted that he would.

It’s that look and those words echoing in my head that make me grab her hand and drag her back to the party.

Phillip gives me a similar fierce look when I slide my hands around her waist.

And, when she leaves to go to the bathroom with Lisa, he raises his chin and almost imperceptibly shakes his head. It’s the same thing he does on the football field. It means he’s not open, so don’t throw him the ball.

It’s a warning.

And, right now, he’s clearly warning me not to mess with her.

I chug some of the Warren twins’ whiskey and decide she needs my attention to cheer her up.

I tell myself I’m doing it for her.

That I’m kissing those soft lips just to make her feel better.

I know, at some point, the shit’s going to hit the fan. Either Phillip and I will come to blows or we’ll team up on Jake.

Since I don’t want to have it out with my best friend, I decide to push Jake’s buttons and come up with the idea of making him jealous.

Her eyes sparkle like they always do when she knows we’re going to do something exciting, something that will most likely get us into trouble.

It’s that sparkle that makes me think about the backseat again.

I make a snap decision.

Jake first. Backseat later.

Or maybe I’ll take her back to my dorm. My roommates are gone for the weekend.

We get in clear view of Jake, and I turn on the charm, for both Jake and my own reasons. Jake insults Jay and laughs about the fact that he went elsewhere for sex.

I pull Jay closer and suggestively run my hand up her thigh. “Hey, Jake, ya think maybe there’s a reason she’s never done it with you?” I cock my head and shrug. “Might explain all them trips to Lincoln …” Then, I give Jay a hungry look, one driven by my own need as much as my wanting to put this asshole in his place.

Jake lunges at me.

The Warren twins and I make fast work of Jake, even when his friends get involved.

But, when I turn around to claim a victory kiss, she’s gone.

“Lisa, where’s Jay?” I ask.

“Phillip dragged her out of here. They left.”

It always has to be Phillip. He always has to play the knight in shining armor.

Damn him.

I’m tipsy and horny, and I have no intention of sleeping alone tonight, so I grab my phone, intending to booty call the hot girl who’s been sending me dirty pictures all week.

I’ll be with her. Get my head straight.

Then, tomorrow, I’ll drive home.

Screw studying for finals. I’ll take Jay out for lunch.

Kiss her again.

Make a decision on how to proceed while I’m sober.

When I look at my phone, I notice three missed calls from my mom. It’s a little unusual for her to call so late, but I’ll deal with her tomorrow. She would’ve left a message if it was important.

But then I see I have a missed call and a voice mail from Phillip.

I listen to it.

“Jay parents. Accident. Life-flighted. It’s not good. Call me.”

When I call him back, I feel sick to my stomach. The alcohol I consumed tonight is suddenly not sitting well with the late-night Taco Bell drive-through.

Phillip says, “Hey, hang on.”

I can hear him walking.

He tells me about the crash. “Head-on. Mom dead. She got to say good-bye to her dad. He’s dead, too.”

I can barely speak when he hands the phone to her.

What do you say when your best friend just lost her parents, and you’ve been thinking about how to get into her pants?

“Jay, I’m so sorry.”

And I know it. I know I’m going to get to the hospital, and Phillip is going to say similar words about her and the baby.

They never had a chance.

I think about the funeral. How Jay asked me, without a tear, to be a pallbearer. How I nodded even though carrying a coffin was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her it would be all right, that I’d take care of her.

But she clung to Phillip. He was always touching her. Holding her hand. She held his hand with such force; we were all convinced it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Then, the whole prom thing came up.

My parents thinking she needed to go. Phillip not wanting her to go with Jake.

His offer to ditch his date and take Jay instead.

I stepped up to the plate.

I would take her.

After we take some pre-prom photos, Phillip pulls me aside and says, “Don’t you dare hurt my girl. She’s been through enough.”

I know what he’s talking about.

Know she’s a virgin.

Know I shouldn’t take advantage of the situation, but the competitor in me wants to do just that. I want to hold her and touch her in ways Phillip’s only dreamed about. And I know he dreams about her. He pretends like it’s some hot model, but the things the model does are all things Jay does. I’m pretty sure he’s in love with her.

Am I in love with her? No.

I love her. Like, as a friend. I think we’d have a lot of fun together. I think, with a little coaching, she’d be wild in bed.

I’m always nice when I end things with girls. I’d be nice to her when it was over.

And it would be over.

I adore her, but she also drives me flipping nuts. Always fighting me about something.

We’d definitely have fun while it lasted.

But my mind is wrestling between wanting to get with her and not wanting to hurt her. Even though she hides it well, the way she clings to Phillip tells me she’s not okay. She hasn’t even cried. Not once. Not at the funeral.

Nothing.

What if we do it, and she hates me for taking advantage of her?

The more I dance with her and kiss her, the less I worry about all of this, and by the time we get to the hotel room, I’m drunk and horny.

I try to be romantic and pop some champagne. I try not to think about how there’s something else I’ll be popping shortly. And, with the way she’s been kissing me, I know she wants to.

I pull her close and kiss her, running my fingers through her hair. Her hair is up in a bun, and I want it down, flowing around her face.

I take out the pins and toss them to the ground.

“Danny, wait,” she says.

And I think, Shit, she’s changing her mind.

Good thing I can be very persuasive.

One of my many off-field talents.

I pour some more champagne, drain it, and kiss her again.

Then, she says, “I want to get into something more comfortable.”

I want to tell her lingerie isn’t necessary. That I’m just going to take it off. That naked is always best.

But then I remember it’s her first time. She probably has some plan. Virgins always have a plan.

While she goes into the bathroom, I take my jacket and shirt off and put them on the dresser. I push my pants down over my boner and about fall over, trying to get my shoes off while my pants are down around my ankles.

I know she and Jake have done stuff, but I’ve seen him in the locker room with his little pencil dick. I opt to leave my boxers on. I don’t want to scare the poor girl.

I remember one girl—Brittany or Bethany, some B name, whatever—telling me she didn’t think it would fit. I proceeded to show her it fit just fine.

I get a condom out of my wallet and set it on the nightstand. Even drunk, I remember, No glove, no love.

As I lie down on the bed, it spins a little. Shit. I don’t feel so good.

I grab the trash can and heave into it.

Then, I lie back down and close my eyes for just a minute.

I wake up, freezing.

I survey my surroundings and see I’m lying in a hotel bed, wearing only boxers.

And what is that smell? I gag and then grab the trash can and throw up in it—again, apparently.

“Jay?” I say.

What happened? What did we do? Did we have sex? Did I puke in the middle of it? Oh God. That would probably scar her for life.

Then, I see the condom still lying on the nightstand and try harder to remember.

“Jay?” I say again, checking the bathroom.

I’m half-afraid she’s in there, bawling. Her prom dress is hung up. There’s some lace half-shoved in a duffel bag.

I pull out the red nightie.

She would’ve looked hot in this. She would have put this on and come out, excited to show me.

And what did she find?

Me half-naked, passed out next to a trash can full of puke.

I grab a glass, fill it with tap water, and down it. I’m thirsty. Then, I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth.

She must have gone to Billy’s party.

Some date I am.

I throw on a pair of shorts and go to the party. Turning down a beer and learning no one has seen her. I know she can’t be with Phillip because he had plans with Carrie. Even went all out on a room with a hot tub.

I go knock on his door anyway because I’m getting a little worried. If she left with Jake, Phillip would be pissed at me.

When Phillip answers, I peek toward the bed, hoping to see Carrie naked. Instead, Jay sits up and rubs her sleepy eyes.

What is she doing in bed with Phillip? And where the heck is Carrie?

But then I realize they both have clothes on.

I’m either still drunk or too hungover to process.

So, I tease her, offering a threesome, and end up in bed with her and Phillip, doing nothing but sleeping.

Later, I wake up, extremely hungover, and get a nasty dose of reality.

Jay is sleeping peacefully, her long hair splayed out across Phillip’s arm, her head resting on his shirtless shoulder, her face snuggled into his neck, and his arm wrapped possessively around her.

I’m never one to back down from a challenge or a dare. I never quit when I’m behind in a game.

I never give up.

But I know better than to play a game I’ll never win.

I’m almost to the hospital when my phone buzzes again. I glance down and see Coach’s name.

“Danny, where are you?”

“I’m headed to the hospital. My friend Jadyn was in an accident.”

“That’s why I was calling you. Marcus told me about the accident, and I drove by the scene on my way home. Um, have you gotten an update on her, uh, condition?”

“No, I’m almost at the hospital. I don’t know much yet.”

“Do you know for sure they were taking her to the hospital?”

His tone is off. Coach is always so direct.

“What aren’t you saying?”

He sighs. “There was a coroner’s van there.”

My heart sinks into my stomach.

“But, but … they told me they were taking her to the hospital.”

“I’m saying a prayer she made it, son. Text me and let me know if things are okay.”

I don’t reply as the phone slides out of my hand.

I get to the hospital, find somewhere to park, and stagger into the emergency room.

A nurse recognizes me right away.

“You’re Danny Diamond, aren’t you?” she says in that flustered tone older women get when they meet me.

Jay says it’s because they’ve been picturing me naked. She always knows how to make me laugh. How to make me forget I’m nervous.

“My friend Jadyn Reynolds—er, Mackenzie was in a car accident. She’s pregnant. I’m looking for her husband.”

She looks motherly and less flustered when she hears Jadyn’s name. She takes my hand in hers and pats it.

“I’m sorry,” she says as she leads me down the hall.

I see Phillip.

He’s wearing scrubs and sitting on a folding chair outside of an operating room.

All by himself.

His head is down, and he’s sobbing uncontrollably.

I rush over, sliding onto my knees in front of him.

He looks at me through tear-drowned eyes, raises his chin, and almost imperceptibly shakes his head.

Just shakes his head.

Like he used to do on the football field.

Like he did that night at the party.

And I know my best friend is dead.

Jadyn is dead.

And I’ll never be the same.

We’re both crying like girls.

Sobbing.

Phillip is hysterical. “How am I going to make it without her?” he cries. He keeps asking me over and over, “How am I going to make it without her?”

I don’t have an answer.

The hole in my own heart feels big enough to kill me.

Please, God, give him back his Princess.

Give me back my best friend.

My partner in crime.

Because I don’t know what I’m going to do without her either.

“I’m here for you,” I say, putting my arm around his shoulders.

It sounds lame, but it’s all I’ve got.