Nice Guys Don't Win (The Boys #2) - Micalea Smeltzer Page 0,22
to start in a few days, but I didn’t think it would start this soon. I went off birth control after Todd and I broke up. The one I was on never suited my body, but he was so adamant on not wearing a condom that I couldn’t risk going off of it to switch. My doctor suggested I give my body some time without it before I tried something else. I wasn’t keen on the idea since I’ve always hard horrible periods, but I went along with it.
I’ve regretted it ever since.
I can feel the wetness in my pajama pants but it’s nothing compared to the pain that woke me.
Reaching over, I turn on my bedside light and toss back the covers to reveal the murder scene. It’s not the worst I’ve seen, but bad enough to let me know a blood clot probably burst.
The joy of being a woman.
I make a mental note to make an appointment at the student health center as soon as possible. Screw my old doctor, I’m not dealing with this shit any longer.
Easing from my bed, another cramp clenches my body and I bite down on my lip to stifle the whimper that’s desperate to escape.
I grab a clean pair of pajamas and the granny panties I save for Aunt Flo.
Okay, I wear them other times too but that’s because they’re so comfy.
I tiptoe into the hall, sweat on my brow from the painful cramps. Shutting the bathroom door as quietly as possible, I sit down on the toilet to deal with the blood bath. Reaching across to the bathroom cabinet, I reach for the bag that I keep my tampons and pads in.
I flail through it.
Nothing.
Zilch.
Nada.
I silently curse myself for not restocking. What the hell was I thinking?
The truth is I was focused on preparing for my move here and forgot to buy more.
I cringe, knowing what I’m going to have to do because there’s no way I can drive to the store in pain like I am.
After cleaning myself up, I stuff some toilet paper in my underwear for the time being and treat my soiled clothes, tossing them in the washer. I don’t start it. I’ll have to add my sheets too.
Whimpering as another painful cramp hits I knock on Cole’s door and ease it open.
“Huh?” His sleepy voice is gruff, deeper than normal. “Zoey?” He turns his light on, blinking from the brightness. “It’s three in the morning. What’s wrong?”
I scrub a hand over my face. I hate doing this—asking anyone for a favor. But desperate times call for desperate measures. “I need your help.”
“Sure.” Cole rolls out of his bed and I have to catch my breath at the site of him in only a pair of black boxer-briefs. He’s so tall and muscular and perfect. It’s annoying really, for anyone to have a face that gorgeous and the body to match. It’s unfair to every other male on the planet.
Now’s not the time to stare at him, Zoey!
Rubbing my eyes as he grabs a pair of sweatpants, slipping his long legs into them, I sigh and say really fast, “I need you to go get me pads and tampons. I’m out. Honestly, my intense craving for red velvet Oreos should have tipped me off that it was coming, but even if it had, I didn’t realize I was out of everything I need and—”
I jolt at the feel of his warm hand on my elbow. He lowers himself so he can look me straight in the face. He has a shirt half-tugged on and he looks fully awake now. “Zoey, it’s fine. Just tell me what you need and I’ll get it.”
“Really?”
My brain instantly goes to Todd who turned his nose up at anything female product related.
“Yeah.” He grabs his wallet and keys off his dresser. “Do you need any medicine?”
“Some Midol. Extra strength.”
“Okay, and what kind of pads and tampons do you want? I know you girls can be really specific about that kind of thing.”
I blink at him in awe. Who is this man? He’s too good to be true.
“Girlfriend?” I ask.
Somehow, he knows exactly what I mean despite my vague question.
“Four sisters, remember? I’m a pro at this despite being the youngest. They made sure I was well-versed in dealing with this very situation.”
Tears prick my eyes, because in this moment I’m just so freaking grateful. I wince when another bad cramp rips through me. Cole’s grip on my elbow tightens, his gaze sympathetic.