“Because something really weird just happened to me, and I didn’t want to be around him while I attempt to settle myself down.”
“Oh God, was it some sort of discharge? Do you need me to bring you pants?”
“What? No. Ew, gross, Blakley.”
“Girl, if you think that’s gross, just wait. When my sister was pregnant, so many things came out of her. Discharge is the least of your concerns. You should happily welcome some minor discharge.”
“Can you please stop saying discharge? Nothing like that happened. It was more of a full-body reaction.”
“Hives? What have you eaten in the last few hours? Did you step on a bee? My parents’ dog once stepped on a bee and had an awful reaction. They had to take him to the emergency vet at three in the morning because he wouldn’t stop scratching. Absolutely terrible. Is your tongue swelling? Your voice sounds normal.”
“Oh my God, now I know how Eli feels when he’s trying to tell me something. Just stop talking for a second, and let me tell you what’s going on.”
“Okay, fine, you shall speak, but make it quick. I have pins and needles here.”
“I’m at the bookstore with Eli. He asked me to lunch—”
“Aw, really? Like on a date?”
“No, as friends. Remember, we’re not going there.”
“Right, right. Okay, proceed.”
“So we’re looking for a pregnancy journal for me, and somehow, we got on the topic about where we conceived the baby. And then, it hit me, this wave of heat followed by vivid, and I mean . . . vivid images of that night. And just like that, I became all panting and needy and . . . horny. It was so bad. Then he leaned down to be eye level with an extremely concerned look on his face. It was mortifying.”
“Oh my God, you told him you were fantasizing right there, in front of the how to birth a melon books?”
“Good God, no! Are you insane? I told him I had to pee and fled.”
“Smart move.”
“Did your sister ever experience something like this? For weeks, I’ve been so disgusted by the mere thought of a penis or any sort of affection that I feel absolutely out of sorts right now that a penis doesn’t seem so repulsive anymore.”
“Are you saying penises offer affection? Because it’s more like a pounding—depending on who you’re with, but affection? The penis doesn’t have that kind of bone in its sheath of skin.”
I’m silent for a second and then say, “I honestly hate you right now.”
“I’m just spitting out facts.”
“Just tell me if your sister experienced this or if I need to talk to my doctor.”
“Oh, she did,” Blakely says, her voice full of innuendo. “And frankly, I’ve been waiting and hoping this would happen to you.”
“What would happen to me?”
“The horny phase. It doesn’t happen to everyone, but when the second trimester comes along, that libido shoots through the roof, and I’ll guarantee your nipples will harden at the sound of a wrapper opening, thinking it’s a condom. You are in for a world of fun. Especially sharing a bed with Eli . . . oooo, this is where you cash in.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re going to want sex, and badly. Eli is clearly good at it, so enjoy it.”
“I told you, we’re not doing that.”
“Okay.” She chuckles.
“I’m serious.”
“Yes, sure, I know you are. Talk to me in a week or two and let me know if it still stands. Because if you’re already having these vivid thoughts, then it’s only going to get worse. And Eli likes you. If anything, you guys can have no-strings-attached sex. He helps you. You help him with the backup. It’s a win-win.”
“That’s not going to happen. We are not hooking up. That is off limits.”
Have his lips always been that full looking?
No . . . we are not thinking about his lips or his biceps or his hair and how it looks so full that I want to lose my fingers in it. Nor are we thinking about his boxer briefs, what’s underneath the boxer briefs, and what can be done when said boxer briefs are removed. Seriously, Penny. Get a freaking grip.
I shake my head and stare down at my menu. Food, you want food.
Not him.
Food.
“Do you like French onion soup?” Eli asks. “It’s fucking incredible here.”
Onions.
That’s exactly what I need.
I need a big fat onion to sit on my tongue and fester because nothing screams mood diffuser like a festered onion.