“Excuse me?” Jude straightened up. “Since when does Ezra know about the”—he did air quotes—“‘situation’?”
“Oh.” Al twisted his mouth in embarrassment. “He has known for a prolonged increment of time. I… may have forgotten to mention this information to you.”
“Is that why he keeps opening doors for me? How long has he known? Days? Weeks?”
“A month or so?”
“Oh my fucking god.” Jude covered his face, mortified. Muffled, he asked, “Does anybody else know?”
“Well….” Al said nervously. Jude braced himself. “I did speak with Buttons on the matter as well. Apologies for invading your privacy, Jude. My desire to express my feelings to someone was so great, I am feeling fear I have betrayed you.”
Jude mumbled a few choice words into the palms of his hands.
“Jude, I feel regret to press the matter, but we do have a necessity to contactsomeonefor assistance. Do you know any other humans besides Ezra and Corbin? I have not observed you having any other friends.”
“Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you?” Jude mumbled, hands still plastered to his face.
“Why would I do this?” When Jude just grumbled in response, Al continued, “I suppose if Ezra is unavailable and you are unwilling to contact Corbin, we could always attempt calling your par—”
“Don’t you dare finish that thought,” Jude said, finally uncovering his face in order to stare daggers at Al.
“We are lacking options, Jude,” Al said apologetically.
Jude let out the most tremendous sigh he could muster and plucked his phone back up off his lap. With unfathomable amounts of reluctance, he pulled up his contacts and dialed Corbin.
* * *
Corbin pulled up right as the worst contraction yet finally began to pass, and Jude, who had been baking in the heat of his dead car as it sat in the afternoon sun, tried his best to act normal.
He did not succeed.
Corbin came over and peered through the window to find him breathless, sweaty, and, more likely than not, red in the face. Jude tried to smile, but it felt wrong, and the way Corbin frowned in concern told him it didn’t look any better.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” Corbin asked. Jude could barely hear him through the window, which he had no way of rolling down now that his engine was dead. He didn’t feel like moving—not even the slightest bit—but he pushed past the discomfort and cracked the door. Corbin took hold of it, pulling it the rest of the way open to get a better look at Jude.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
In between contractions while waiting for Corbin to arrive, Jude had been giving some thought as to how, exactly, he was going to play this. If he tried to pass it off as an exploding appendix or something equally as sinister, Corbin would want to take him to the hospital. If he told the truth, Corbin would probably still want to take him to the hospital, only this time to the psychiatric ward.
What he needed was the Goldilocks of all excuses.
An excuse that perfectly straddled the realms of mundane and terrible.
And the perfect excuse, the one he had so carefully crafted, was—
Before Jude even opened his mouth, Al spoke for him. “He is currently in labo—”
“In pain from indigestion!” Jude said loudly over him. He shot a glare at Al, who furrowed his brow in frustration, but blessedly didn’t try to correct him. Jude turned back to Corbin. “Food poisoning, I think. It’s giving me really bad cramps, and I didn’t think I could stand waiting forever for the bus to arrive. Sorry to call you so urgently. I justreallyneed to get home.”
Corbin looked skeptical.
“Do you need like, a doctor or something? You seem really bloated. I don’t think your stomach is supposed to look like that.”
In his state, Jude hadn’t thought to tug out his shirt and angle himself to hide his belly. He flushed self-consciously, lacing his hands over his lap.
“No doctors,” he insisted. The muscles of his womb started to contract once again, and he gasped involuntarily from the strength of it. “I just need to go home.”
“This is weird. You realize this is weird, right?” Corbin said, watching as Al rubbed Jude’s back and reminded him in hushed tones to breathe.
