by C. A. Harms
Clayton
It was Friday night which meant one thing—party at the house. Xavier was assigned as sober brother and I wasn’t really in the mood to drink. I was still recovering from the shock that Emelie was a mom.
Did I ever see myself in a relationship with a girl who had a kid? No, but the fact that she had one didn’t make me want to run in the opposite direction. She still refused to accept that I might possibly be into her though, and that damned wall she had built around her seemed unbreakable.
“Why do you look so perplexed?” Morgan sat down at my side, holding a bottle of water in her hand. She never drank; all the parties she’d come to along with X and I’d only ever seen her drink water. “You over here, out of the chaos, is so unlike you. So, what gives?”
“Just thinking.”
“Oh no,” she slid away just a small fraction, “are you going to detonate? Like explode from the pressure it’s causing?”
“You and Blake, with all your smartass comments.” I nudged her knee and she laughed, repositioning herself.
“Really though, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
Just then Xavier joined us as he picked Morgan up and planted her in his lap, taking the seat she was in. “What are we talking about over here, girls?”
“Hair appointments and massages,” I said sarcastically. “Maybe a pedicure or facial.”
“Doesn’t surprise me, Clay, you are a bit on the girl side of shit.”
I ignored the way Morgan pushed against his chest as it led to him pulling her closer. The sounds of kissing and laughter explained all I needed to know. It all only made me think of Emelie and that I might never get the chance to prove I’m not the guy she thinks I am.
“We were having a conversation.” Morgan pulled away from him, sounding breathless. “Now leave us to it.”
“I’m not leaving you anywhere.” Xavier had been glued to her side from the moment they got together. Well, I take that back; he almost lost her once. Since then, he’d been lost in the world of Morgan, and I swear in his thoughts, nothing else mattered to him but her. It was hard to imagine being in that frame of mind, wanting and needing someone so desperately that the idea of being without them was crippling.
“Okay, Clayton, just ignore him and tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Really, Morgan, I am fine.” All I needed was to give any of these guys around here ammo to use against me later.
“Xavier,” Morgan stood from his lap, “you need to go find something to do.”
“Excuse me?” I almost laughed when I looked at him and found he looked like a scorned toddler.
“Go play with the boys.” She grabbed his arm and attempted to heave him from the chair. He didn’t even budge. “I need to talk to Clayton and you need to go chaperone.”
“I can chaperone from here,” he insisted, glaring at me like I’d actually done something wrong. I could have ignored him, but that just wasn’t me.
“You need to go, dude, your girl likes me better.”
“Do you enjoy your head where it’s placed?” I arched a brow in question. “Because I’m about ready to rip the fucker off your shoulders.”
“Feisty.” I snickered as I lifted my beer to my lips and took a sip.
I could hear Morgan talking to him as she leaned in closer to his ear, and when his grin grew wide and satisfied, I could only imagine what she was offering. The guy was a lucky guy.
A few minutes later he was standing, looking down at me with a serious expression. “You watch her close.” I wagged my brows and he practically growled. “I mean it, asshole, if any one of these drunk dicks—”
“I got it,” I said, waving him off.
After he was a few feet away, I looked at Morgan and we both started to laugh. “He’s a caveman.”
“Don’t I know it,” she agreed, but the smile on her face was the sure sign she loved it. “So now that he’s gone, don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”
“Why do you think something’s going on?”
“Because the rest of the guys are running around this place like they’ve lost their minds and usually you’re right in the middle of the mess. I’ve never known you to miss out on a good party where you have the option to drink. So again, I ask, what’s up?”
“There’s this girl—”
“Uh oh,” she slid closer, “do I know her?”
Girls and their need for gossip. I was just about to continue when Blake rushed over and sat on the floor in front of us, looking up at me anxiously. “Is it story time?”
“Yeah, the big bad wolf is about to huff, puff, and blow.” She wrinkled her forehead in confusion and I pointed over her shoulder toward Eli. He stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips, staring at the three of us.
“Oh, he’s fine, he’s just pouting.” She offered him a little wave and he appeared less than amused before she turned back to face me. “So, what are we talking about?”
“Clayton has a girl,” Morgan says, and Blake’s eyes grew wide.
“Since when?”
“I don’t have a girl,” I corrected.
“But you said—”
“I said there’s this girl,” I looked at Morgan pointedly, “but I never got to finish because squealer here interrupted.”
“Hey.” Blake punched my knee and I laughed. “I’ve gotten much quieter.”
“No, you haven’t,” Morgan and I said in unison, and it was Blake’s turn to pout.
“Okay, so you don’t have the girl, but you want the girl.” Morgan redirected the conversation. “So, what’s the hold up?”
“It’s complicated.” I wasn’t even sure how to explain it to them. I like a girl and she doesn’t trust me, oh, and by the way, she has a kid but I don’t know where the father is.
“Nothing worth your time is ever simple,” Blake added as she smiled up at me. Her own story wasn’t an easy one. “Does she know you like her?” I nod. “Okay then, that’s a start. You just have to woo her.”
What the fuck?
Blake knew me more than I thought and picked up immediately on my confusion. “Woo her as in do the little things. Leave a chocolate on her desk, a flower under her wiper, or leave a cute note taped to her dorm room door.”
“Yeah, and walk her to class, maybe open the door for her, and tell her she looks pretty.” Morgan was getting into it now.
“Wait,” Blake tilted her head to the side, “is this the mocha girl from the other day?”
“Yeah.”
“So, wooing her has already begun,” she grinned almost proudly.
“I don’t think she’s the kind of girl that’s gonna fall for wooing.” Yeah, I said wooing. I needed to go crush some beers cans on my forehead or something. I felt my manhood slipping away already.
“Every girl loves to be wooed.”
“Can we stop saying woo, wooed, or even wooing?” I shook my head to clear the fog that had started to make me feel cross-eyed. These girls were something else. They both just laughed at me and continued. “Okay, damn, you two are exhausting. She has a kid.”
Both Blake and Morgan froze, staring back at me, mirroring the same things I think I felt when I first found out. “Wow,” Morgan spoke, and Blake only nodded. “How old?”
“About two.” I leaned back in the chair and ran my hand over my face. “And before you ask, I’m not sure about the dad, but from her reactions toward me, I’d say it can’t be good.”
“What do you mean?” Blake looked completely invested now, and so did Morgan. There was no more crazy talk about grabbing her and kissing her like I meant it or buying her chocolates. This shit was real life grown up stuff.
“She’s in one of my classes, and all year she’s treated me like I’m some frat boy asshole who thinks with his dick all the time.” Blake tilted her head knowingly and I found Morgan with her eyebrow arched in question. “Not you two, also? Geesh!”
“Maybe not all the time.” Blake shrugged.
“Anyway,” I shook m
y head at the two of them, “she won’t even give me a chance to show her otherwise. Then last week when I brought her that coffee, I thought for sure I was making some progress, but she shot me down when I asked her to lunch. The next day was when I saw her and her little boy, Ethan, at the laundromat. He climbed right up in my lap and we sat there, sharing my earbuds for the next couple of hours.”
“Awww, that sounds so cute,” Blake said.
“And promising.” Morgan shrugged as the girls shared a nod and some secret girly look.
“I thought that too, but every day this week when I’ve attempted to talk to her, she hurries off with an excuse of needing to be somewhere else. Then yesterday and today she wasn’t in class.” Again, the girls shared some type of look that I didn’t understand because I didn’t fucking speak girl. “So?” I pushed for one of them to speak and ease this knot in my chest that had been there for days.
“Okay.” Morgan leaned forward and looked me in the eyes, a serious expression on her face. “I’m just gonna say it.” I waved my hand, motioning for her to continue. “Are you sure you want to get involved with a girl that has a child? Before you answer, I want you to think really hard about that. Because, though I may not have a child of my own, I have Toby. You know how hard it was for me to share him with anyone, Xavier and you guys.” She was so protective of him that one slip up from Xavier and it almost ended them. “Being with her means being with him. Little hearts get attached easily and I can see her side of this too. Plus, we don’t know her past with the father. It could be so messy that it’s left her with her guard up.”
“Her having a son doesn’t make me want to give up.” Not even a little. “At first it was a shock, but even then, I didn’t find myself backpedaling. I’m just as interested in her now as I was before I met Ethan.” I didn’t have even the smallest of doubts in my mind.
“Okay then, now we need to figure out how to get you the girl,” Morgan said with a smile.
“And the boy,” Blake tossed in with excitement. “I love little people, they’re so fun.”
I had somehow recruited these two without even meaning to. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“Okay, I’ve had enough of the serious for one night.” I stood up and downed the rest of my beer. “What do you girls say we go find Jay, get him loaded, and Saran wrap him to the couch when he passes out?”
“Okay. Can we stream it when we do?” Blake asked. “Live stream, from the point we’re done until he wakes up squealing like a pig when he realizes he can’t move or get loose. Oh my god, yes, then we can—” She paused when she found both Morgan and I just staring at her with our mouths hanging open slightly.
“Who are you and what have you done with my quiet coworker and roommate?” Morgan asked. “You used to be so timid and kind, now you are insane and—”
“Scary,” I finished for her, and she nodded in agreement, pointing toward me.
“He happened,” Blake said, “and the rest of the idiots in this house. I found my calling,” she widened her eyes in excitement, “torturing the not so innocent. Now let’s go before someone else does it first.” Then she was off.
“Remind me to get a deadbolt for my bedroom door at home,” Morgan whispered near my side.
“I’m surprised you’ve waited this long.”
Chapter Seven
Emelie
“How’s his fever?” Palmer asked in a hushed tone as she peeked her head inside my room.
“It’s down for now,” I replied as I tried to reposition my pillow behind my back. I’d been lying in the same position for close to two hours, holding Ethan against my chest. He wore only a diaper as I’d stripped him when his fever spiked about two in the morning. He felt like a furnace against me but refused to sleep any other place. “This is the first time he’s slept longer than five minutes.”
“Why don’t you let me hold him so that you can have a break?”
“No,” I said, smoothing back his wild blond locks that were plastered to his forehead. “I’m okay.”
“You look like shit.” Palmer smiled, and I knew it was just her way of attempting to make me do the same.
“So do you, but I’ve been up all night with a sick toddler. What’s your excuse?” Did I mention how much I loved this girl? She kept me sane on most days. She was loyal and accepting.
“When should the antibiotics start kicking in?”
“Any time,” I whispered. A double ear infection is torture but in a toddler who was also suffering from a runny nose and horrible cough, it was nothing short of hell. “We’re going on day two of the meds and day four of the sickness, something has to give soon, right?”
Just then Ethan began to stir and lifted his head, looking up at me with his big sleepy eyes. I was just about to say good morning when I was showered in vomit from my neck down, leaving me no choice other than to close my eyes and mouth and accept it.
When I felt like I was finally safe, I peeked to find Ethan looking at me, with his lip puckered sadly. “It’s okay, buddy.” I tried not to gag, but with each second that passed the reaction grew harder to avoid. “Palmer…” I didn’t have to say anything more. She moved in and snatched Ethan, not caring that his little legs bore the evidence of his sickness.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up, little man,” she told Ethan with a bright smile. “Mommy’s okay but she sure does stink.” I heard my son giggle as they exited my bedroom towards the kitchen sink. As I looked down at myself, I was suddenly overwhelmed. I took in a deep breath, forgetting to breathe only through my mouth, and immediately regretted it. I covered my nose and carefully began removing my tank top and shorts. Once I was somewhat puke free, I gathered my sheets and carried them to the clothes basket in the corner. Thank goodness all he’d had was liquids over the last forty-eight hours.
I made my way to the bathroom, turned on the hot water, and crawled beneath the sprayer. The water felt amazing, making me believe I was somewhat human again. I tried to fight the urge to cry, because being a whiney ass wasn’t gonna fix anything. This was my life, and I wouldn’t change the fact that I had Ethan—absolutely not. He was my light, my reason to smile, and work hard every single day. However, maybe I would have chosen to wait until after I was settled and older.
Climbing out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel. I exited the bathroom and heard Ethan’s giggle, which instantly brought a much-needed smile to my face.
Once dressed and my hair wadded up in a wild bun, I grabbed the basket in the corner and walked out to the living room. “Do you mind keeping an eye on him for a couple hours? I need to get his sheets, also my own wash, and the numerous outfits he’s violated over the last couple days.” I wrinkled my nose, remembering the continuous need to hand rinse multiple pairs of pajamas.
“Yes, please.” Palmer looked at the basket repulsively. “We need more Pedialite and Popsicles too.”
“Are the Popsicles for him or you?” My best friend was a big kid herself.
“Ethan, of course.” She tucked him in closer to her chest as he stared ahead at the cartoons playing on the television. “But he says to get the rocket red, white, and blue ones this time. Those are his favorite.”
I exited the apartment, shaking my head. When I reached my car, I realized I was wearing my old grungy high school shirt I’d worn when I played soccer. It was so worn that the lettering was faded. Paired with my black yoga pants and flip flops, I looked like a runway model for sure.
Flipping down the visor, I attempted to clean away the smeared mascara beneath my eyes and, after a few attempts, only managed to irritate myself. I drove the four blocks to the laundromat, gathered my things, and entered the already full building.
Saturdays and Sundays were like a madhouse there, but I had no other choice. I refused to sleep on a bare mattress or let Ethan do the same.
I’d separated my items into three washers, reached inside my bag, and realized I’d forgotten my wallet at home. “Damn
it,” I said in an irritated whisper. Spinning around, fully intending to go search beneath all the seats in my car, I plowed into the hard chest of a man.
I didn’t have to look up to know what man, either. I would recognize that cologne anywhere.
“No Ethan today?”
I stepped back, and when I bumped into the washer I knew I was cornered. Exhaling slowly, I looked up and that feeling I always got whenever he looked at me returned. That racing heart, the shaking hands, it was all there.
“He’s at home,” I stated, and I could see the questions in his eyes. “With my best friend and roommate.”
“That’s too bad,” he added, still keeping his body close to mine. “I loaded some new songs on my iPod.”
“Oh yeah?” I smiled up at him.
“Yep, some that will for sure corrupt his little mind.”
“Nice.” I knew he was playing.
“I had no idea there were so many nursery rhymes available on iTunes.” He shrugged. “But then I’ve never actually had a need for them before.”
“And you have a need for them now?”
“Uh, yeah.” He wrinkled up his forehead. “My buddy likes to jam out. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t have the right kind of tunes for him? Friendship is all about compromise, you know, and I’m willing to rock out with Elmo if it pleases my boy.”
I stared up at him, unable to speak. Who the hell was this guy? How could I have been so unbelievably wrong? There had to be a catch, didn’t there?
“By the way,” he leaned in closer and whispered near my ear, “I’m loving the look.”
“Are you seriously dissing my gear?” I faked offense.
“Nope,” he stated without pause. “I gotta admit, Emelie, you look good in just about anything.”
“Cheesy,” I said, though I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“Maybe.” He shrugged, finally stepping back and giving me some space. “I brought you coffee on Friday, but you weren’t in class. I gave it to the chick that sits next to you and now I regret it.”
“Why?”
