“I’ll take what I can get, I guess. I still don’t like it though,” he said. He bit his lower lip in thought, then slid his legs off the table and put his hands palms-down on his lap. “Tell you what? While I process… all of this, do you wanna just like, say fuck it for a while and get high and eat junk food? Watch a mindless entertainment program?”
“Ezra, dude,” Al said with his whole heart, “if I did not have a True Mate already, I would offer to bind myself to you for that suggestion alone.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Ezra glanced at the growing pile of used tissues. “But first things first, let’s get you some water. You’ve got to be dehydrated. Come with me to the kitchen, okay? It’ll be good for you to stretch your legs.”
With effort, Al untangled himself out of his position on the couch and followed Ezra into the kitchen.
“By the way,” Ezra said as an afterthought, “what’s your actual name?”
“Ξ.A.kr’ξ??’p,” Al told him.
Ezra nodded soundly. “Al it is.”
14
Jude
Jude stood in front of the bathroom mirror in the art school building on campus, tugging at his shirt. The hem of it sagged slightly from where he’d pulled on it over and over again throughout the day. It had become a compulsion—he had to be certain that no one saw his incriminating bump. It felt like its existence was shining a ginormous spotlight on him that was signaling to the whole world: Hello, my name is Jude Adler, and I got knocked up by an alien!
He glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom door. It was solidly shut, and the stalls and urinals were all empty. Out of morbid curiosity, Jude took the chance to lift up his tugged-out shirt. He stood sideways and examined himself in profile, one hand going subconsciously to his belly, where he felt the small bump protruding out right around his belly button.
Pregnant.
It’d been about a day since Al had revealed the truth to him, but it still hadn’t really sunk in. It seemed too impossible to believe. But then, there was the evidence right there in front of him in the mirror—right there inside him, rounding his belly. As impossible as it seemed, itwasreal, and if what Al said was to be believed, it was about to get even more real soon.
How many were there?
Jude chewed his lip, putting pressure on the bump as though he’d be able to tell by touch alone. Al had implied Jude was carrying multiples—did that mean twins, or was it more like a litter? What would they look like, or be like, since they were half human, half alien? Jude wished he’d asked Al more questions, because the ambiguity of the situation was almost more stressful than the situation itself, but he’d been in no frame of mind during their… had it been an argument? Miscommunication?
What it had felt like, more than anything else, Jude was loath to admit, was a breakup.
Jude stopped touching his belly and yanked his shirt back down abruptly.
“We weren’t even dating,” he muttered angrily to no one. “You can’t break up with someone you weren’t dating. Get a hold of yourself, you idiot.”
Not two seconds later, the bathroom door swung open, and Jude awkwardly nodded at the random student coming in to pee, oblivious to Jude’s crisis. Jude sidled past them and made a hasty retreat into the hallway.
Before heading to his next class—Intro to Pottery (he wasterribleat it)—he sent a quick text to Corbin.
Jude:Need to vent. Coffee shop @ 3?
Corbin:Boy trouble?
Jude:You could say that
Corbin:Juicy! I am so there!
Sighing, Jude pocketed his phone and slung his bag over one shoulder. Class was waiting. He started down the hallway toward it, the too-tight rub of his jeans on his swollen belly at the forefront of his mind the whole way.
* * *
“What can I get you?” a bored barista asked Jude.
Jude opened his mouth to order his usual—a large iced caramel macchiato with two shots of espresso—when he faltered, a thought coming to him seemingly out of nowhere.
Am I allowed to drink caffeine while pregnant?
It was such a random concern, but it actually stopped him dead in his tracks. For one thing, if caffeine was a no-no, he’d already fucked that right up, because a good 45% of his diet was iced coffee, and for another, why did he suddenly care? Maybe he already was beginning to accept—no, not accept, butbelieve—that Al was telling the truth, and there really was something (or somethings) growing inside him… but beyond that he was lost. If there were changes he was supposed to be making to his diet or daily activities, surely Al would have said something, right?
