Pregnant Too Young — Daddy Is A Billionaire Jock

Michelle I'm afraid of most men. I haven't told anyone, and I'm not seeing a therapist about it, but it all started after I was sexually assaulted. Of course, no one knows about that either. I'm scared no one would believe me. Especially since I'm not beautiful, tall, or attractive. I'm a short little book nerd brunette. An introverted nobody, and it was a famous football player on campus who forced himself on me. Why did he do that? Why me? Those exact thoughts are why I keep it a secret. No one would believe me if I said Thomas Hennington pushed me into the wall and shoved his junk inside me. Thinking about it makes me sick to the stomach. It happened during my first frat party before any classes had started. Thomas was drunk, but that is not an excuse. What he did was wrong. Yet I feel guilty that I was there. It feels like everything is my fault. Sometimes it makes me want to cry. But no one would believe me if I told them what Thomas did. Therefore, I keep m

Michelle "Do you live over there?" Maddox nods at a house up the street, his big hands holding the wheel in a death grip. "Yes, but you don't have to drive the entire way..." I nervously laugh and face his stern expression. "Why not?" "Um... Because my roommates would freak out if they saw you." He arches an eyebrow. "Fans of mine?" "Fans?" What is he even talking about? "Yeah, I'm pretty known around campus." "Y-you are?" "Yes." That's some arrogance right there. I swallow. "Well, that's not the reason." "What is it then?" "Uh…" I blush. "Nevermind." He sighs. "Out with it, Michelle." "Okay..." I shut my eyes. "I've never brought home a guy before, and they… My roommates… They are going to—" I can't say it. My heart is pounding too fast, and I'm embarrassed. Ciara and Zendra have told me I'm hopeless when it comes to guys, and bringing Maddox to the front of our door is probably... Well. A bad idea. They will ridicule me and ask me if I have a crush on Maddox. I

Michelle I hate walking into the classroom every morning. I'm the quiet girl, and when that door opens, I got all eyes on me. The spotlight makes it harder to breathe. It's making my skin crawl. My heart beats faster, and even though there isn't straight-up laughter or name-calling like in high school, the silence speaks louder than volumes. I hate not having any friends. I hate not having any new clothes. I hate not being normal. I hate not being... Happy. I'm lonely, and it makes me feel vulnerable. Thomas definitely used that to his advantage when he... When he... Raped me. Tears prickle behind my eyes. I think I'm suffering from PTSD. Sometimes I experience flashes of Thomas's face and how he pushed me against that wall at the party. It makes me want to scream. But I refuse to cry. Don't ever look back. I keep my eyes down not to meet any of the sneers in the classroom. Stay strong. Breathe. Sadly, I can't ignore the whispers. The popular girls are already

Michelle I'm running, and I manage to make it outside the library before tears run down my chin like rain. I wipe them away with a trembling hand and dry my cheeks with my sleeve. "I'm stupid, so fucking stupid for thinking Maddox could be nice!" I yell at myself and quicken my pace down the street. It's dark and scary, but I don't give a fuck. I'm so humiliated. Why would Maddox pick up the letter and read it out loud? Why would he do that to me? What the hell is wrong with him?! I don't understand. My heart is shattering. Of all the damn people to develop feelings for, why did it have to be that idiot?! He is a big, fucking bully! More tears crawl out of the corner of my eyes. I'm working up a sweat while sobbing in the dark. Maddox Daniels is a heartless jerk. I don't understand why the girls at campus love him so much! How could he possibly be popular?! Well, I do know—girls don't care about his cold-bloodedness. All they want is his looks and money. He is hot, but f

Michelle I'm so out of place. I came to watch Maddox's football game but didn't realize the stadium would be so PACKED with people. My nerves are jittering around, and I'm close to puking. I've never once before went to one of these games. My heart is racing, and I think I might be sick AND broke. Stupid as I am, I bought the ticket with my own money, and now I'm surrounded by shouting and whistling fans. I didn't realize this game would be so huge. Outside the stadium, children were getting their faces painted. There is a freaking orchestra playing music, and I'm staring at some girls holding up these banderoles. It feels like I've stepped into a movie. A trio of good-looking blonde women with colors painted on their faces holds up this thing that says, "WE WANT MADDOX'S BABIES!!" I find that sickening to write since they don't know him. But maybe that kind of thing is normal to write? Further down, another says, "Jason, call me!!" Sighing, I sink into my seat. Maddox of