“Don’t be a dick.” I walk around to sit on the desk in front of him, grabbing my stress ball from the desk I watch it shrivel and lose air, then fill back up. “Dude, I don’t even know. She has been moody lately, one minute she’s all lovey dovey, the next she’s coming for my fucking head. Then!” I feel myself getting riled up again. “She wants to fuck me every which way she can! It’s so confusing.” His stumped look mirrors mine.

I continue, not over my rant. “I think she’s going through something and not fucking telling me. She’s hiding something and it’s affecting her emotionally and physically.”

“Physically?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna be a dick but she’s gained a little bit of weight and...”

“Maybe she’s pregnant,” rolls off his tongue like it’s no big deal, he shrugs.

“No, she can’t be I mean we use...” I stop when suddenly I realize we don’t use protection, we never have. Honestly, I never even asked if she was on the pill, just assumed it. Could she be fucking pregnant? Is she on the pill? Holy fuck, how did I not think about this earlier, how could I be so fucking careless?

“Why would you say that?” My palms start to sweat and I feel claustrophobic, like a giant gorilla in a tiny cage. I freaked on Shayla just a few weeks ago for this same shit.

“Because you just described my fucking wife.”

“So, that doesn’t mean she’s pregnant, Lana has always been a sassy pain in my ass.”

“Yeah but it’s increased. Does she orgasm easier and faster?” Seriously?

“Fuck off, I’m not talking about mine and L’s sex life with anyone and please don’t insinuate anything like that with my sister.” He laughs at me while standing and walking to the door.

“Your girl is pregnant, I bet you damn good money. If not, then maybe you just aren’t given her the good D.” He splits, shutting the door fast enough to miss my stress ball aiming for his head.

Trey has a fucking point. What if she’s pregnant? I mean L has never mentioned needing protection before and I sure as hell had no complaints having that tight pussy bare on my cock.

I pace the room a few more times. Picking up the ball I threw at Trey, I smash it between my hands thinking about what I need to do.

I need to call her. That’s the most logical thing. Holy shit, is Lana pregnant?

Ring

Hey you’ve reached Lana. I’m not available right now. Leave me your name and number and I’ll get back to you.

No she won’t.

Kings! Ahh! hahah

I smile when I hear her voicemail. Every time I hear it my chest tightens, she sounds content and I love that she kept me in there. What doesn’t make me happy is I got sent to voicemail. I shoot her a text.

Me: Lana, we need to talk.

I wait three minutes. Nothing.

Me: Lana, seriously please call me.

Another three minutes. Nothing.

Me: Lana, where are you? I’m fucking worried. Call me.

Nothing.

I call one more time and get sent to voicemail. I growl. I open my texts to message her again but before I can type anything, I see those three annoying dancing bubbles. I swear those things were made to piss off mankind, they were made to drive cavemen like me ridiculously crazy.

Lana: I’m fine. I can’t talk right now.

Me: I need to talk to you, answer me.

Lana: I told you I can’t.

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