.. oh and it takes place right after Isabelle says she didn't sleep with the guy who got her pregnant.
Here we go!
“I didn’t sleep with him,” I whispered. I breathed heavily, staring at his face, watching the words sink in.
“What, did you like the guy so much that you couldn’t bear to use such a flimsy word as “sleeping” to describe your night of passion? You’d rather it be something more romantic like he made love to you?”
“No,” I said, insulted that he would even think that.
“Then what, Isabelle? What should I call it?”
“I didn’t sleep with the guy,” I angrily said, enunciating every syllable.
“I’m sorry,” he sarcastically said, “Who made sweet love to you, Isabelle? Who did you find three seconds after we danced at Mike O’Connell’s party to hook up with in one of his spare bed rooms? Was it someone else on the football team?” His mocking words stung, I started crying again. He started naming off the whole varsity team, counting each person on his fingers. And just stood there and took it. He got to thirteen names before I spoke.
“Stop it,” I mumbled.
“Oh so it was him?” he asked referring to the last name. “I could never picture you with Eric Follansbee. But, hey, what do I know. Now, Isabelle, I have a question for you. Did you actually like him or find him attractive or were just trying to hurt me?”
“Shut up, Peter! You have no clue what you’re talking about,” I yelled. “It was not Eric Follansbee or any one else on that stupid team. Did it ever occur to you that it wasn’t with my consent?” His expression turned contemplative. “Did you ever think that not every time a teenager gets pregnant it’s not just because she too stupid to get a condom or didn’t even care? You know what, Peter? I was raped. Didn’t think of that, did you?”
“You were raped?” he whispered, tasting the word on his lips. “By who?”
“Why don’t you keep on guessing? You’re so good at that,” I spat at him.
“Isabelle, just please tell me.”
I started thinking about Carl’s cold eyes, his lustful stare and his hands exploring my body. I started thinking about the night in the woods, when he pressed me against the bark of the tree, stripped me down and violated me in ways I never could wish upon my worst enemy. I suddenly felt Carl’s clammy hands lifting my shirt and pressing his fat fingers wherever he pleased. I tightly closed my eyes trying to erase the vision of him dragging me into the woods, the numbness I felt after he kissed me and cut my lips on his braces, the feeling of being paralyzed by fear when he unzipped my skirt. I wanted it all to go away.
“It was Carl,” I whispered.
The relief I felt when those words finally passed my lips, is unexplainable. I was ridiculously happy, it felt like a whole weight had been lifted up my shoulder. And placed on your stomach, I thought wryly. Peter, on the other hand, looked angry. His hands were balled up at the sides of his body and his breathing spiked. It sounded as if he had just ran a mile.
“Peter?” I called.
“I always knew he was a creep,” he growled. “Goddamit!” he yelled, punching the freezer, “I had always seen it too! The way he was always throwing himself at you, he said it was cousinly affection. Yeah, and I poop out watermelons every Friday. I could have stopped him at any moment. He used to talk about you all the time, too, and if anyone brought you up saying you were sexy or whatever, he’d get really protective.
“I was there when it happened, wasn’t I?”
“You were. But you were in the house, he dragged me into the woods. There was nothing you could do.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, an incredibly sad tone filling his voice.
“Don’t sweat it,” I replied, staying true to my vow of selflessness. He couldn’t find words to fill the silence, he just gathered me in his arms and lightly, yet protectively, pressed me to him.
“I love you.”The words echoed in my head. It was the first time Peter had said that he loved me. He chose this moment of all the times we had been together? He kissed my hair. i wanted to smile, I wanted to say the words back- but I couldn’t. I knew the feelings were there, I did love Peter Solomon, but I didn’t want to say the words. i didn’t want him to know the extent of my feelings because want him to want the physical love that I couldn’t give him- or anyone for that matter- for a very long time. But, what if I didn’t say it? What if he moved on and picked up a girl at school, leaving me because I didn’t tell him the sacred words back? Or what if he got angry? What if he forced me to have sex with him like Carl did?
“I can’t,” I managed to whisper. To my surprise, he didn’t release me. He held me tighter.
“I know. I just had to tell you. I’ll be here, isabelle, when you can love me back. I won’t stop loving you until you tell me that you could never want me.” His words were so beautiful that I started crying in his shirt. He lifted my head and pressed his lips onto my forehead. I finally smiled. I squeezed his waist as much as I could with my wide girth. My baby started kicking.
I lightly laughed and pulled away. He gave me a confused glance.
“She’s kicking,” I explained.
“She? It’s a girl?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. I lightly took his hand and pressed it to my stomach. He finally smiled. “I don’t know what I’ll name her yet. But I will name her, the adoptive parents can change her name if they want. I just want a little part of her that will always be mine.”
Peter nodded like he knew what I was saying, although I knew he couldn’t understand the depth of my words. at this, Mr. Solomon barged through the backroom door, carrying two cases of ice cream. An cautious look filled his face when he saw our position. I quickly released Peter’s hand and backed up and told them I had to go. Peter took my hand again, kissed it, and smiled. I exited the backroom and went towards the counter that had a melted cup of ice cream and a group of worried girls, bursting with questions, waiting for me.
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Thanks for reading! Your reviews are always greatly appreciated
~Dommy

Read all your chapters and let me say: I completely love them!
