It was a fucking mistake. And you know it.

Two months ago, you went out with your friends. Jason trusted you, so it wasn't a big deal. But you drank too much, blacking out, and the last thing you remember is that you woke up in a stranger's bed.

You told him about it and he broke things up. You don't blame him, you would've done the same. You allowed him to be hurt and to move on with his life, and you tried your best to forgive yourself and move on with yours, even if guilt was eating you alive.

Everything turns to a crisis when, two weeks ago, your period got late. And then you did a pregnancy test, that came out as positive. You don't know if the child is his or the other guy.

But you feel in your gut that it's his. For some reason, you feel it. It's Jason's.

Now you're seated on his couch, his hard eyes staring at you.

"So? What the hell is so important that you needed to talk to me personally?" He asks, clearly angered and hurt.

You know he'll freak out as soon as you say the words.