Red:Just can’t get me out of your mind, hey?
Cass:No, no.I was laughing at the image. Don’t get it twisted.
A door creaks open long after I’ve finished my second cup of coffee, and Blair’s roommate, Max, pads down the hallway wearing nothing but an oversized Van Halen T-shirt. Her crimson-red bob is messy from sleep and, even though it’s not the right shade, I hate that seeing a red head instantly makes me think of Chase. It’s nearly eight o’clock now, and there’s enough daylight I’m sure he’s already on horseback somewhere, in winter gear and a thick Carrhartt coat—maybe the one I used as a blanket in his truck.
“Oh my God. Good morning, baby mama!” Max shrieks, quickly veering from her path to the coffee machine to scoop me into a hug. “Look at you. Holy shit, this baby bump is so cute.”
“Thank you. I finally look like I’m pregnant, instead of PCOS bloat.” I say, hugging her back. “Where were you last night?”
With a coy smile, she tucks a lock of her messy hair behind her ear. “Oh, you know. Went for drinks with a pretty girl from Tinder, then went back to her place tohang out.”
“Valid excuse to bail on me and Blair, then. Pregnancy has literally made me so horny, I’ll skip the most important fucking plans if I think there’s an orgasm in it for me.”
“Too bad you won’t listen to me and switch teams. We could’ve had a great time here last night. But I guess now you’re a bit committed to straight men.” She jokingly gags on the last words. “Tell me about him.”
“We aren’t together or anything. Just friends.”
“Blair told me. She also told me he’s a hot cowboy, there are benefits to your ‘just friends’, and you had a raging crush on him when you were younger.”
I sputter my coffee, and a few dribbles run down my chin. “Jesus Christ. Like I told her, I also had a crush on Max fromA Goofy Movieback then. My taste wasn’t exactly refined.”
“Mmm, Roxanne, though?” She bites her bottom lip jokingly. “I’m happy for ya, babe. You’re going to be a great mom and, even if he’s not quite Goof material, I’m sure you picked a good one.”
“He’s actually turning out to be better than I anticipated.”
He’s so much better it scares me. Before the rodeo, before the positive pregnancy test, before the anatomy ultrasound, I thought I had him pegged. Red was a dirty, rough, arrogant cowboy with a drinking problem and too many notches on his bedpost. That was an easy box to shove him in—there are alotof local guys in that box. The problem is, he’s consistently doing things to make me question whether I’ve been viewing him wrong this entire time. And with him wandering untethered in my brain, popping up in my thoughts constantly, I’m in trouble.
Despite a two-hour nap, I’m exhausted by the time we get ready, have dinner, and make our way downtown. All I want to do is hop back on the train to Blair’s apartment and go to bed, but I didn’t visit my best friend to sleep the trip away. Especially knowing how much hard shit she’s been dealing with on her own. She deserves a few hours of fun to take her mind off her mom, which is why I’m shivering in the line-up for a night club with back pain and a plastered smile.
I’m officially too old and pregnant and sober for this. At least I look cute, with full hair and makeup, and a red babydoll dress that’s flowy enough to disguise the baby bump. The last thing I want is everybody staring and awkwardly whispering about the pregnant girl in the nightclub.
When we finally push through the front door, I’m blown back by the smell of alcohol, perfume, and body odour. Holding onto the contents of my stomach with the same death grip I have on Blair’s arm, we weave through the bodies. I order cranberry juice—if there’s an upside to beingsober at a club, it’s juice and pop being free—and we head deeper into the crowd.
The part I hate most about night clubs? The dicks. And I’m not talking about men with bad personalities. Evidently, the loose dress and club lighting have magically made my bump invisible. There are inescapable erections dragging across my ass when I’m simply trying to dance with Blair and Max. The last thing I want is a random man touching me in any way, and if they lay a finger on my stomach, I might have to deck them. Above all, the attention from other men is making me wish I was home with Chase more than I’d like to admit. I’d kill to feel his warm, rough hands right now.
Damnit. Quit thinking about him for one second.
“Hey, looks like your drink’s almost empty. Let me help with that,” a voice croons in my ear, tearing me away from thoughts of Chase. I swivel my head to see a tall, broad-shouldered, clean-shaven man. Ahotman. A man I would normally love to accept a drink from. A smile lights his face when our eyes meet, and he cocks his head toward the bar. “What’s your poison?”
“Plain cranberry juice for me tonight.” I have to lean in close enough I can smell his spicy aftershave to be heard over the pounding bass.
“Being responsible tonight, eh? Hopefully nottooresponsible, though.” He winks and places a hand on the small of my back, ushering me across the sticky club floor before I have the chance to turn him down.
Fresh drink in hand, I scrunch my nose and say something that’s neither true nor necessary information to share right now. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Okay?” He smirks, not giving a shit whether it’s the truth or not.
“And I’m pregnant.” I tap my fingernail on the side of my non-alcoholic drink, smoothing my free hand over my stomach to pull the dress taut.
“Oh,shit. Okay. Cool,” he says in a tone that very much indicates it’s not okayorcool. “Well, hey… have a great night and, uh, good luck.”
Boyfriend. In the moment, I didn’t stop to think about how it felt to say. It definitely didn’t feel like I was lying… there was no anxious fidgeting, change in my voice, or racing heart.
I sidle back up between Blair and Max. “Pro tip, if you want guys to leave you alone, tell them you’re pregnant.”
“Or”—Max runs her fingertips down her torso—“dress like a masc lesbian.”
“I like the engaged trick.” Blair flashes her very large, very fake engagement ring. “Ten dollars at Claire’s. My fiancé, Mark, is a wealthy plastic surgeon. He says I don’t need any work done because I’m perfect.”
