Sterling and Sloane

Plus

There are two types of plus signs in the world.

The first type is good. Like A+ on your Constitutional Law final. Like plus-one at a wedding. Like extra shot of espresso.

The second type is the one staring back at me from the plastic stick in my hand, in the third stall of the Columbia Law library bathroom.

Two pink lines. PLUS.

Maya is trying to break down the bathroom door like she's SWAT.

"SLOANE! IT'S BEEN SEVEN MINUTES! IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR I WILL CALL CAMPUS SECURITY AND TELL THEM YOU'RE HAVING A MENTAL BREAKDOWN IN THERE!"

"I AM HAVING A MENTAL BREAKDOWN IN HERE!" I yell back.

The door goes silent for half a second.

"Oh my God. It's positive, isn't it?" she whispers.

I can't answer. My throat closed. My five-year plan is taped inside my closet door — Columbia Law, Internship at Legal Aid, Pass the Bar, Public Defender, Save enough to get my dad to retire. Nowhere on that plan does it say "Plus sign in the library bathroom."

The lock clicks. Maya had the emergency key from the janitor. She slides into the stall with me and locks it again.

She looks at the test. Then at me. Then at the test again.

"Okay. Okay okay okay. Breathe. When did you..."

"The Hamptons. Sterling Vance's party. That night."

"Sterling Vance?" She looks surprised. " He is the father? "

I nod, tears finally coming. "We both... it was mutual. It was sober. It was a choice. We even said 'we shouldn't do this' and then we did it anyway. It was one night, Maya. ONE NIGHT."

Maya doesn't freak out. That's why she's my cousin, not just my roommate. She sits down on the disgusting bathroom floor in her designer thrifted skirt and holds my hand.

"Okay. First, we take two more tests because these things lie. Second, we are not telling anyone until we know. Third, whatever happens, I'm with you. Fake husband and all."

"Fake husband?"

She grins, trying to make me laugh. "Yeah, I already married Kevin in my head so you wouldn't be alone. He seems like he would be good at 3 AM pizza runs for cravings."

I laugh through snot and tears. It's gross.

Two more tests. All plus. All screaming PLUS.

We walk back to our tiny East Village walkup like zombies. I sit on my bed, staring at Sterling's suit jacket still hanging in my closet. I never returned it. I told myself I forgot.

Maya orders tacos. That's how you know she's scared. She only orders tacos when it's serious.

At 8:13 PM, my phone rings.

DAD.

Judge Thomas Parker does not call. He FaceTimes, because he says "If you lie, I can see it in your eyes." Retired Judge, current full-time Professional Disappointed Dad.

I almost don't answer.

"Sloane Elizabeth Parker," he says the second I pick up. No hello. "Your roommate Maya posted an i********: story 47 minutes ago. It shows a corner of your bathroom sink. With three pregnancy tests in the background. She has since deleted it, but I have already screenshotted it."

My blood runs cold. Maya goes white and whispers "I THOUGHT I CROPPED IT!"

"Dad, I can explain... "

"Who," he says, in his Judge voice. "Who is the father?"

I look at Maya. Maya looks like she wants to melt into the floor.

I can't lie to a judge. Especially my dad.

"Sterling Vance," I whisper.

The silence on the other end is so long I think the call dropped.

"Richard and Evelyn Vance's son?" he says, slowly. "The hotel heir? The one who was on page 6 for buying a tiger?"

"It wasn't a tiger, it was a very large dog and it was Kevin's idea... " I stop. "How do you know that?"

"I read Page Six, Sloane. I'm retired, not dead," he snaps. "You are 22. You are in your final year of law school. You are going to be a public defender. You are not going to be a headline."

"I'm not trying to be... "

"You will come home tomorrow. We will handle this like adults. And I will be calling Richard Vance."

"Dad, no! Don't call his parents!"

But he hangs up.

Maya stares at me. "Are we... going to die?"

"My dad is going to kill me, and then his parents are going to kill me, and then Sterling is going to find out and probably wish I was dead too," I say, burying my face in my hands.

My phone buzzes again. Unknown number. Manhattan area code.

I answer without thinking.

"Sloane?"

That voice. Sleepy, hoarse, a little annoyed. The voice from the balcony. From the morning after.

Sterling.

"Sterling?" I choke.

A pause. "You left your earring. And my jacket. And... my dad just called me screaming that Judge Thomas Parker is suing our entire bloodline. So I'm going to take a wild guess that... that plus sign happened?"

He knows. He already knows.

In the background, I hear a very familiar voice yelling:

"BRO IS THAT ZARA DRESS GIRL?! TELL HER I KEPT THE PANCAKES IN THE FREEZER! IT'S BEEN FOUR WEEKS, THEY'RE PROBABLY LEGENDARY NOW!"

Kevin.

Sterling sighs. "Kevin, not now. Sloane... can we meet? Just us? To talk? Like last time, but with... fewer life-altering decisions after?"

I look at the three tests on my sink. At Maya holding tacos like a shield. At the jacket in my closet.

The mistake we meant just became a plus sign that two families now know about.

"Okay," I whisper. "Just talking."

"Just talking," he repeats. And for the first time, he doesn't sound bored.

He sounds terrified. Just like me.