Hook, Line, and Sinker (Flirting with the Zodiac Book 1) Page 11

  They paused on the landing to the second floor, Ty leaning over the railing to catch his breath. He’d been particularly breathless the last few days. Honestly, he thought his lungs were supposed to get better once he stopped smoking.

  “For not sticking up for you,” Lawrence murmured, and Ty frowned. He pushed himself away from the railing and started up the next flight.

  “I can handle myself, Laz, not sure when you felt that you—”

  They stopped in front of the door, Ty turning back to Lawrence as he waited for his roommate to let them in.

  Lawrence shook his head. “All those times … in front of my mother. They said some pretty shitty things, and I never stopped them.”

  “Whatever. What’s done is done, and—”

  “Friends should protect each other. And I didn’t. All the times they said stuff about you, about Mars, about your family, and I just didn’t do anything. Didn’t even try to stick up for you.”

  “Laz, it doesn’t matter, I wasn’t there, I didn’t—”

  “Yes, it does. You’re my friend, and I should have said something. Stood up to them.” He bit his lip. “I never even thought about it until the other day. And that says just as much about me as it does about them.”

  Ty’s breath caught in his throat as Lawrence’s hand landed on his cheek. He swiped his thumb across Ty’s lip, and Ty had to stay his tongue.

  “Gran was right. I hope we stay friends,” he whispered.

  Ty stared up into those blue eyes, the sincerity in them. “I …”

  Lawrence cocked his head, and Ty broke away. “I’m gonna throw up,” he managed, and Lawrence fumbled with his keys, let them into the apartment. Ty didn’t even bother taking off his shoes, just ran to the bathroom.

  He didn’t realize Lawrence had followed him until he came up, still coughing, and caught sight of him in the mirror. He was leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. “You, uh, wanna sleep together tonight?”

  Ty rinsed his mouth and spat viciously in the sink. “I just finished puking my guts up and you’re asking if I want to bang?”

  Lawrence turned scarlet. “No! Not like—well, maybe like that.” He looked away, and Ty raised his eyebrows. “But I meant … contact. Like your dad said.”

  Ty flushed the toilet, then sauntered into the hall. “We’re already doing the stupid hug thing.”

  “I know.” Lawrence trailed him down the hallway. “It’s just, you’re still so sick, and I wonder if …”

  Ty stripped his shirt off, whirling about to face his roommate—friend—husband. Lawrence glanced him over. “Maybe more contact would help,” he said.

  “Not ever having agreed to get knocked up would also help.”

  Lawrence cringed. “Then you want to …”

  Ty sighed and sprawled across the bed. Trust Lawrence not to read his sarcasm. “No,” he replied as he wriggled around on the worn mattress. He laid his hands over his stomach—he felt swollen, bloated, but it was hardly noticeable.

  He sighed and rolled onto his stomach (Dr. K had mocked him when it had come out that Ty wasn’t sleeping well because he was a stomach sleeper and he’d been sleeping on his back because he was afraid of crushing the baby). He gestured for Lawrence to join him. The older man hesitated, then crept to the bed, collapsing onto the mattress with him. “I don’t really regret it,” he sighed. “I mean, it fucking sucks and I wish I felt better.”

  “So let’s cuddle,” Lawrence blurted, then turned beet red. “I just want you to feel better. I mean, it’s my fault you feel like shit.”

  Ty rolled his eyes. “Kind of my fault I feel like shit, huh?” He shoved at his friend’s shoulder playfully. “I’m the one who said you could.”

  “And I appreciate it, starfish.”

  It was shocking how easily he fell into Lawrence’s arms; he blamed the dips in the mattress, but Lawrence wound an arm around the small of his back, and Ty rolled against him. “Honestly. This means so much to me.”

  Ty smiled gently. “I know.”

  Lawrence’s fingers fanned across his cheek. “Not because of the will,” he murmured, those blue eyes boring into Ty’s. “Not because of Gran.”

  Ty felt his lips curve down. Lawrence cupped his cheek with more intensity; his lips parted around his next breath like he wanted to speak; his throat worked, but he formed no words. His eyes, though, were like an overflowing well, and he shook his head finally, apparently admitting defeat.

  Whatever he was feeling, there weren’t words for it. Instead, he twined their hands, laid them over Ty’s low belly. Ty bit his lip at the heat of their hands.

  “Fishy,” Lawrence croaked.

  “Shut up,” Ty said, then buried his face against Lawrence’s collar.

  Fifteen

  June meant summer, and summer meant heat. Snow became nothing more than a bad memory. The days grew warmer, longer, and Ty suddenly found hoodies and jeans weren’t his friends.

  He wriggled into his stretchiest pair of skinny jeans—most of the others had been discarded by now, because they were too tight around his middle, but even this pair was on its last gasp, digging uncomfortably into him once he managed to get them fastened.

  Normally, he would have tossed on a hoodie, but today was almost hot; the breeze wafting in through the windows told him so. He tossed on a roomy tee instead, eyeing himself critically in the mirror, wondering if the way it caught around his belly was noticeable to anyone but him.

  Lawrence denied being able to tell there was a bump, and no one in their D&D group would give their honest opinion either. It was either awkward coughs and strange segues to different topics or an enthusiastic “you look great!” and a plastered-on smile.

  Dr. K had assured him the baby wasn’t so big yet, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel … well, a bit like an inflated puffer fish or something. He tugged at his jeans, tried to tug them higher, then decided that was worse. Finally, he settled the hem of his tee and ran a hand through his hair.

  He wandered out of the apartment, locked the door. He peered over the railing, then waved at Val down below. “Hurry up!” she bellowed at him, and he sighed, hurried down the stairs, frowning as he went.

  His chest was … tugging or bouncing or something. He crossed his arms.

  Val lifted a brow at him as he reached the sidewalk; he must have been making a face. “I have boobs,” he announced, glancing down to affirm that. “I … do I need a bra or something? They hurt.”

  “Huh,” Val said, equal amounts of surprise and confusion in her voice.

  He rolled his eyes. “I cannot wait for this to be over.”

  “You can’t complain. Your species has a short pregnancy.”

  “Thank fuck,” he spat. “Can you imagine if I had to be pregnant for, like, eighteen months or something stupid?”

  “We’d all shoot you,” Val assured him as they came to a stop, peering down the road. The bus was probably stuck somewhere. That figured; Ty had to pee. That was nothing new these days either.

  He grabbed at the hem of his tee. “Be honest with me, Val—can you tell?”

  She scoffed, and he shot her a glare. “I’m serious! Everybody just keeps saying I look fine or they can’t tell.”

  “It’s hard to tell on anyone,” she retorted, “which is why you just don’t ask. You remember when Raoul congratulated his cousin?”

  Ty shook his head. “Okay, but you all know, and—”

  The bus roared up, and the driver gave them a surly look, so they clambered aboard, made their way to the back. “Look,” she said as they plonked into a seat, “Laz said you seemed worried about it, so he told us not to say anything that might upset you.”

  “Not being honest with me is pissing me off, Valerie!”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think you can blame him, rainbow roll. I mean, how many times did we go to the hospital?”

  He sank back in the seat, huffing. She nodded. “So you’ve been super sick, Doc said no stress, and Laz i
s taking that to logical extremes, as per usual.”

  “Just tell me if you can tell,” he whined.

  “Christ, fine. Yes, it’s really obvious.”

  “I knew it,” he hissed, hating the way tears sprang into his eyes. Val scoffed at him again.

  “You’re waddling, for starters.”

  “I am not.”

  “Are so. And, well, if Piscean pregnancies are only thirty-two weeks, then they’re a lot shorter … so, I don’t know, is the baby smaller or does it just grow faster?”

  She gave him a look, and he huffed and stared out the window. “Point is,” she said, “you’re into your third month of this. Four months is halfway, so it’s only going to get worse from here.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered, “so comforting.”

  “Stop sulking. We’re early, so we’ll go find you that bra.”

  “Ugh.”

  He trudged after her into one of the old, brick buildings, still pondering his chest. He crossed his arms, frowned. So weird.

  Then again, the entire experience had been weird. He felt like a bit of a stranger in his own body some days. It wasn’t so bad, really, just strange, and he felt like everyone noticed, knew. Whenever he went out in public, he felt like everyone was staring at him.

  They weren’t; most people didn’t seem to pay him much mind. Occasionally, there was a little kid whose parent hurriedly told them not to stare.

  The few people who noticed did care an awful lot, felt it was their right to walk right up to him and start a conversation about when he was due or to touch him. He hated that, couldn’t stand it. He wasn’t some petting zoo exhibit or something, but they didn’t seem to realize that.

  It definitely didn’t help him feel any more comfortable. Perhaps worst of all was that everyone assumed he was female. Which, fine. Pisceans were a rarity, but honestly. They lived on a planet with a fairly large alien population, so it was hardly safe to assume anything about anyone.

  He glanced up as Val darted into one of the shops—maternity wear. Great. He sighed and followed her in, frowning at the mannequins, the racks of breezy summery dresses. Pink and floral patterns assaulted him from almost every corner.

  He almost felt bad for other pregnant people; apparently being knocked up translated into needing to adopt some sort of hyperfeminine attire.

  He was just going to order giant tees off Amazon and hide for the next few months if this was what passed for maternity wear here.

  Maybe there was another shop, another mall …

  Val stopped up at the back wall, and Ty’s heart sank as he was faced with a wall of bras.

  Once upon a time, he might have been excited about sneaking into a lingerie shop. Now, it just seemed like punishment. He looked helplessly at Val, who stared back.

  “You said you wanted support,” she said finally, then turned her attention back to the wall.

  “I …”

  “Good morning,” came a smooth, rolling voice from their left, and they glanced over to see a tall woman with long, cascading hair. She smiled brightly. “Finding everything we need?”

  “He needs a bra,” Val said bluntly, gesturing to Ty.

  The clerk lifted her brows just a touch, then turned to the wall. “Well,” she said, “let’s see what we can do, hun. You ever been fitted before?”

  “I’m a guy,” he almost snapped, and she just smiled gently.

  “Let’s start there then. Your measurements have probably changed anyway. When’s your little one due?”

  Oh boy, here they went. He rolled his eyes. “December.”

  “That’s nice,” she said. “You won’t need to worry about replacing your winter coat then.”

  “Huh,” Ty said, because he hadn’t thought about that. At all. He glanced down at himself, realized he could barely see his sneakers.

  She led him behind a curtain, pulled up a tape measure. Then she paused. “I take it you don’t have a bra on,” she said suddenly, and he shook his head.

  “I … don’t own one,” he muttered, and she looped the measure around his rib cage.

  “That’s fine,” she said, “we get a more accurate number if you take your shirt off, but that’s fine, we’ll just—”

  “I can take my shirt off,” he said, then blinked. “Why wouldn’t I …”

  He stared at her, and she lifted a brow at him. He fumbled for the words. “I’m a guy,” he said finally, weakly. He thought of all the times he’d gone shirtless on a hot summer day; lazing around the apartment when the A/C was broken, him and Lawrence going to the fountain in Phobos Park and getting ice cream; whipping off his shirt at the gym without a second thought.

  Her smile was a bit strained. “It’s fine, sweetie,” she said. “It’s probably not a bad idea to measure up a little bit anyway. December’s a way off. Are you planning to nurse?”

  He felt sick. “I … uh …”

  “It’s fine,” she said for what felt like the umpteenth time. “Just—well, let’s look at different styles anyway, hm?”

  She patted his wrist, then led him back out to the wall of lingerie. Val was waiting patiently for them. He slunk up to her, curling into her shadow. She gave him a look but said nothing.

  “So!” the clerk cried, patting one of the racks. “These should all fit—let’s start with some convertibles, since you’re not sure—”

  Ty heaved a breath, and Val glanced at him. She looked at the clerk, lifting a brow. “What about sports bras?” she asked. “Something that’ll …” She gestured to her chest, and Ty whimpered.

  The clerk blinked a couple of times. “Well, I guess, we could look at that, but I’m not really sure how good they’d be for nursing, you know?”

  Val frowned. “Do Pisceans even nurse?”

  “I don’t know,” Ty whined. “I’d have to ask Dad.” He was starting to get why Dad never wanted to talk about this stuff.

  “Oh,” the woman said, her locks bouncing as she led them over to another rack, past all sorts of spandex and Lycra shorts and tees.

  Val nudged Ty. “Why don’t you call your dad and ask, hm?”

  “He’s probably busy—”

  Val frowned. “Probably not too busy for you, and y’know, this is important—”

  The clerk waved a hand. “It’s still a big decision,” she offered with that smile. “Why don’t we get you set up with one bra today, and then you can come back when you figure out what you want?”

  That sounded good. Really good. It meant he could get the hell out of the store faster, go home and get his head to stop spinning.

  Did baby Pisceans drink milk? Was this normal? He had to figure it was, that he was changing because the baby needed to be fed some way, but—

  Maybe this was just his human side coming out. The influence of hormones or something.

  Val was right. He had to talk to somebody about it—maybe Dr. K. Maybe Mom and Dad. Maybe all three of them.

  And then … if the baby drank milk, did he want to?

  He glanced up hurriedly as the clerk grabbed a couple of bras off the rack. Val waved a hand. “Do you have anything less … pink?” she was saying, and Ty shut his eyes, gritted his teeth. He took the garment from the clerk.

  “Pink’s fine,” he huffed, startling both of them. “What? It’s just a color.”

  Honestly. If there was anything feminine about any of this, it was the fact he was fucking knocked up anyway.

  ***

  Lawrence was waiting for them at a booth at the sushi place, and they slid in across from him. He grinned broadly at them. “’Bout time you guys got here,” he said.

  “Sorry,” Ty said, and Val followed up with, “Ty was trying on bras.”

  “Bras?” Lawrence sounded confused, even as Ty elbowed his supposed best friend. “What for?”

  Val gestured to her chest, and Lawrence colored.

  “Do you mind?!” Ty snapped.

  “Oh, c’mon, Laz’s seen ’em, right?”

  “Seen what?
” If Ty’s crimson face didn’t answer the question, Lawrence’s confusion certainly did.

  Val frowned, gesturing with her chopsticks in boredom. “What, does he keep his shirt on while you’re banging?”

  Lawrence turned pink, and Ty scowled at her. She frowned. “You … do have sex, right?”

  “It’s none of your business, Val.”

  She groaned. “Please tell me you banged the night of the reception.”

  “Valerie.”

  “You two got married! What’s the point of being married if you aren’t gonna screw each other?”

  “Menus,” the waitress said, sliding the paper across the table at them, along with a sidelong look at Val.

  Lawrence laughed and broke his chopsticks. “I thought you thought we were married anyway?”

  “We didn’t screw then,” Ty huffed.

  “Are you telling me you two fucked once and made a baby and that’s it?”

  “It was more than once,” Lawrence murmured into his plate.

  Val groaned in frustration. “Okay, no, you two aren’t allowed to do this. You can’t be friend-married, then get actual-married and not upgrade to regular boning!”

  “Why are you so obsessed with my sex life?” Ty asked. Lawrence nodded, even as he was scribbling down their usual order.

  Val eyed them both, her look calculating. “You both know you can’t make another baby until this one is born, right?”

  “Val.”

  “I get it, it was an accident, but you don’t need to be scared of screwing because—”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Lawrence said very quietly, very firmly.

  Val blinked a couple of times and lowered her chopsticks. “But … Ty said …”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Ty gritted out.

  Val glanced between the two of them, clearly trying to calculate something. She rolled her tongue around, twiddled her chopsticks. “Not an accident,” she murmured.

  “Completely intentional,” Lawrence said, and Ty wanted to sink through the floor when he said it.

  Val nodded a couple of times, then looked at the table. “Well,” she said, “that doesn’t fix anything.”