I stare at the test in my hand.
Shit! No! No! No!
I can't be pregnant. Not with Harry Styles' fucking baby!
How will I tell him?
The door opens and Harry walks in, wearing black jeans and tight white shirt. He freezes when he sees my face. "Sapphire! Baby, what's wrong?"
He steps forward and sits on the bed beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders.
I show him the test and he gasps.
"You're pregnant!" he exclaims.
"No shit, sherlock!"
He gets up and paces the room. "Who with?"
"With my fucking imaginary friend, Bob. With you, you idiot!" I scream.
He rakes his hands through his hair. "I'm too young to be a dad. I still have my whole life ahead of me. Heck, I still have songs to write for my band!"
"You're band is more important than me?" I say, the tears streaming down my face. "Than us?" I put my hand to my stomach. I've only known for ten minutes that I was pregnant, but I already love the tiny human inside me.
He frowns. "Nothing is more important than you! We'll get through this okay? But I can't promise I'll be a good dad."
I sigh and wrap my arms around him, and he puts his around me. "You'll be a great dad."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'll kick you're ass if you're not."
He laughs, kissing my head. "Should we call the doctor and set our first scan?"
I smile. "Of course."