Hey! Welcome to the story, I hope you enjoy it!

TW: Contains swearing, homophobic behaviour, self harm, depression, and bullying.

I would also like to note that this book is British, so the football mentioned is English football! Can all the Americans in the comment section please stop acting like the world revolves around them :)

Lastly, one of the main characters has a stutter. I've seen a lot of rude comments about it, so kindly shut up please. Thanks!

(This book does NOT contain smut. Please stop harassing me about it.)

Thank you!

• • •

"I'm telling you, I'm pregnant! I know my body, Luca." She folded her arms tightly over her chest, her lower lip jutted out in a stubborn pout.

I rolled my eyes, tugging on my matted hair in frustration, "We've already been here twice this month, Sam." I sighed deeply.

"Don't you dare patronise me, Luca Bakker." She accused, wiggling a finger in my face.

"Still pronouncing it wrong." I muttered dryly as she fiddled with her curly blonde locks in agitation.

"Well, I'm sorry if I don't know how to pronounce your stupid Dutch name, but I—"

"Samantha Wilkins?"

Her baby blue eyes flicked up to the young nurse stood in the doorway of the plastic waiting room, a clipboard under her arm. Sam's shoulders tensed as she stood up, rearranging her handbag on her shoulder.

"Do you want me to come in?" I offered, hastily standing up too, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She merely shook her head. Sam liked to pretend to be brave, like she didn't need anyone or anything. She was independent. And sometimes she didn't realise that I could feel her pain, hear her heart cracking and her mind spinning. But I couldn't help her. Because Sam was the most stubborn person I knew. "No." She told me bluntly. "Stay here."

"Are you sure? I can—?"

"Stay here, Luca." She snapped. "Read a magazine about your menstrual cycle or something." She nudged me on the shoulder playfully before following the nurse down the white corridor and out of sight.

I let out a relieved sigh as I collapsed back into the squeaky chair. I wanted to be supportive, but accompanying Sam while she got tested really wasn't my idea of fun. Instead, I slouched into the hard chair, my knee bobbing up and down as my foot tapped incessantly against the waxy, linoleum floor. After a while of waiting, boredom crept up on me and I took Sam's advice, leaning over to grab a magazine.

STIs And How To Avoid Them

I groaned, tossing it aside, and sinking further into the chair. I wished Sam would just hurry up already, but deep down, maybe I was a little nervous, too. Or maybe that was just Sam getting in my head.

We weren't even dating. She wasn't girlfriend material and I definitely wasn't boyfriend material. We were just close friends who hooked up when we were bored and looking for something to do. Or someone.

I fiddled with the hem of my leather jacket, and tugged at my scruffy jet black hair agitatedly. A middle aged women with a stroller was watching me from the other side of the waiting room. She caught my gaze and quickly turned away to tend to her fidgeting toddler. Maybe she was appalled that a seventeen year old was sitting in a planned parenthood clinic, alone. Or maybe she was just minding her own business, and I was reading too much into it. Maybe I cared too much about what others thought of me. That had always been my weakness. I pretended not to care, though. Pretended that none of it mattered.

I leapt out of my seat the second Sam reappeared. I rose my brows expectantly, rushing to her side, "So?"

"I'm not pregnant!" She exclaimed cheerily, clapping her hands together as she smiled ecstatically, "Let's celebrate!"

The women in the waiting room glanced up at us, irritated. Maybe we shouldn't have been so obvious in our excitement. But I was relieved — why wouldn't I be? "Thank fuck." I looped my arm around Sam's and dragged her out of the clinic. "I don't want to say I told you so, but—"

"Shut up, I wanted to be safe."

"We were safe." I pointed out in exasperation as I clambered into my battered, rusty car, Sam hopping into the passenger seat. "I'm never having sex with you again."

She gasped mockingly, "Oh no! What an earth will I do without that football star dick! Just kill me now." She rambled sarcastically. "You'll be begging for it in a week." She scoffed.

"No way. I can't keep wasting petrol driving you to the clinic because you think you're pregnant." I scolded, stuffing my keys into the ignition as the engine roared to life. I pulled out onto the road, my fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, my foot pressing down onto the gas. "Find someone else to fuck, I'm sure Phoenix'll be happy to drag you out here whenever you feel bored."

"Phoenix is shit in bed." She grumbled in complaint. "It's like he doesn't know where everything's meant to go. Has the kid never watched porn before?" She teased.

"Probably not. They have a family computer in the living room and they all have slots for when they're allowed to use it." I scoffed. "Not the best environment for jerking off."

She chuckled, "Maybe not."

"Am I just taking you home or d'you want me to drop you off at Daya's?"

She turned to examine me carefully, "What? We have to celebrate, Luca!"

"Celebrate what? Oh, hey, your body has undergone no changes whatsoever and our lives will stay exactly the same after today! Yeah, bring on the party!"

She glared at me threateningly, "Come on, lets just get high or something." She encouraged. "Please?"

My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I swerved around a sharp bend. I was approaching Daya's street, eventually halting in front of the big, clean house with a tamed garden and a manicured lawn. "See you tomorrow, Sam."

She pouted stubbornly, "Seriously, Luca? At least come in and say hi!"

I laughed out loud at her request, "No, no way. You always tell me to come in and say hi. The next thing I know, I'm passed out on a stranger's sofa with some random girl's vomit on my jeans!"

"Oh, that was one time—!"

"Anne Jones' party last month. Sarah Cookson's a couple of weeks ago. Gary Port's last weekend—"

"Come on." She tried to convince me, but I remained seated, making no move for the door handle.

"She's probably just fucking Tommy anyway." I moaned. "Last time I came over, I was scarred! D'you know how hard it is to erase the image of Tommy Santos' arse—?"

"Urgh, you're such a cocksucker!" She complained.

I let my eyelids fall shut as I took a deep breath, "Fine." I replied heavily. "Fine, I'll come in for like twenty minutes. Then I'm leaving."

A wide smile tugged at her lips and spread across her face, lighting up her pretty features. She didn't say anything as she pushed the car door open and skipped up to the front door happily. I followed her as she knocked on the navy wooden door, leaning against the frame as she waited.

It was a while before we received an answer. I was ready to turn around and head home when the door finally swung open, the hinges creaking. Daya was stood on the other side, wearing a pair of black, lacy knickers and a loose crop top. Her hair was scruffy, her neck littered with hickeys, her makeup smudged. By the lack of a bra and the sound of Tommy's voice calling her back from the other room, I gained a pretty good understanding of the situation.

Her pale green eyes widened as they landed on us before she smiled sweetly, "Hey!" She chirped, opening the door wide enough for us to enter l the cramped hallway. "How was the doctors?" She asked, tying her wild frizzy ginger hair into a bun as we followed her through to the living room.

"Fine." I shrugged. "It was nothing. Like always." I added.

Tommy was sprawled across the sofa when we entered, wearing nothing but his boxers and a single sock. He jumped up when he saw us, clearing his throat, his cheeks glowing red. Everyone knew Daya was way out of Tommy's league. She was gorgeous, smart, popular, and sweet. Tommy was...well, Tommy. He was a little on the short side, didn't really know how to dress himself and was painfully shy to anyone he hadn't known for a minimum of two years.

But somehow, Daya chose him over all of the countless boys throwing themselves at her. I didn't understand it and I don't think I ever will. But the two were happy. And if it wasn't for Daya dragging her boyfriend into the friendship group, I'd never have met Tommy. And he was a really great guy.

But, boy, did the two of them have a lot of sex.

Tommy quickly tugged on his jeans before pulling a jumper over his head, messing up his shaggy, sandy blond hair. His amber eyes darted between Sam and I as I watched him in amusement, "I-I was just...we were..."

"Having sex?" I offered with a smirk as Daya walked straight past her discarded clothes, not bothering to get dressed as she sat beside her boyfriend. Sam and I sat opposite them on the other sofa, laughing faintly at his flustered expression.

"Uh-huh." Daya smiled proudly, giggling at the way Tommy blushed.

"Where're your parents, Day?" Sam questioned her best friend, glancing around the empty living room.

"Out of town for the week." She grinned. "Another business trip."

"They're always on business trips." I scoffed.

"Yeah, it's great for our sex life." She giggled, massaging Tommy's shoulders affectionately, "Someone call Phoenix, get him over here, and tell him to bring some weed."

"On it." I sighed.