The bad boy

The test

Celia Daphne sat In her bathroom, staring at her hand. Or, more accurately, what sat in her hand. A pregnancy test with "positive" in the little screen.

"What am I gonna do?" She moaned.

"Celia, babe, honeybun, platonic love of my effing life, it'll be okay!" Her best friend, James Morgan crouched next to her. His boyfriend of three years hovered nearby, frowning.

"No! Phil doesn't want kids! He'll make me give them up for adoption, or abort them, or he'll dump me and I'll be a single mom living on the street-"

"With her incredibly handsome best friend who this little kiddo will be calling Uncle James." 

Celia fell against his shoulder, tears escaping her eyes. 

"Celia, Jamie is right. You'd move in with us before we let any of that shit happen." Logan, James' boyfriend, said.

Celia cried harder, cursing herself. "Why? Why couldn't I have insisted on a condom, or made sure I didn't miss any periods-" she sobbed

Juet then, her phone dinged.

"Bae im gona b home late. Dont wait up. Gn."

"That asshat." James cursed.

"No, this is good. Celia can have time to calm down now, without worrying about him." Logan said.

Celia suddenly stood up, almost knocking James over. 

"What the- a little warning?"

"Sorry. But if I'm going to be carrying this little monster for the rest of these nine months, I need cupcakes. And tissues."