Winning Hollywood's Goodest Girl

The whole class laughs as she nods. “Yes, you will learn breathing techniques, but trust me, at the end of our time together, you should be armed with so much more. So, let’s get started.”

“Is it just me, or should she be giving the opening speech at the Olympic games?” Harrison whispers in my ear, and just like that, a smile cracks the hard edges of my fear and worry.

“I don’t know. She was inspiring, but also, like, weirdly terrifying. I’m not sure if she’d be giving athletes mental breakdowns or pumping them up.”

“You have to break it down to bring it back up, right?”

“No,” I disagree with a laugh. “I don’t think that’s actually true. We’d have to stab all the hot air balloons and sew them back together before they could take off if that were the case.”

“But think of how cool that would be.”

I laugh. “Cool until the loop stitch comes apart and your ass is free-falling into a bank of trees at the speed of sound and shit.”

“The speed of sound?” he asks with a laugh.

“I don’t know. It would hurt, okay?”

“All right, you win. No breaking down, just lifting up in the delivery room.”

“And a strictly above the hip standing position for you.”

“You don’t want me to watch?”

I choke on my saliva. “Um, no.”

“You don’t think I can handle it?”

“I don’t think I can handle it. Frankly, I’d prefer if no one had to watch. If I thought the doctor could do her job effectively without watching, I’d blindfold her.”

He chuckles. “Noted.”

“Everyone get into position, please,” Amy calls over our muted conversation. “Coaches behind ladies, using your own bodies as a support.” Amy glances at both Harrison and me and smiles. “Like this lovely duo. Already in business and ready to go.”

I blush a little as I realize that Harrison and I fell so naturally into an enormously intimate intertwinement of bodies before being asked to do so. The heat in my cheeks feels starkly obvious, so I busy myself looking around the room in the hope that my partner will do the same instead of noticing.

He doesn’t; at least, I don’t think he does. The backs of his fingers skating gently across the bright-red skin of my face suggest otherwise. But at least he doesn’t say anything about it outright.

“Knees up, coaches,” Amy directs. “Lean into your partner fully. Allow your chests to be her backrest, your legs to be the bolsters of her arms.”

Harrison adjusts behind me, being careful to follow her directions, and a warm gust of his breath tickles the shell of my ear.

God, that feels good.

All at once, a jarring jolt of memory racks my body, the sexy, toe-curling details of the last time we were this close sending a rolling shiver all the way down my spine.

“You okay?” he whispers, unintentionally—unwittingly, really—making it worse.

“Uh, um, yeah,” I stammer. “Peachy.”

He chuckles softly, the entirety of his chest vibrating behind me, and it does nothing for my current situation. Goose bumps roll up my arms, my mind starts to wander toward thoughts of Harrison’s naked penis, and even my preggo vagina joins the fest o’ horny and starts throbbing like she can simply get her rocks off in the middle of this freaking Lamaze class. It’s like this pregnancy has given her ADHD or something.

Jesus Christmas, Raquel. This really was a good freaking idea, huh? Not like your life is complicated enough at this point!

“Birth is an incredibly sacred experience,” Amy says, interrupting Harrison’s laughter and the sacred experience I was already having quite rudely. I know it’s not rational, but these crazy pregnancy hormones and Harrison’s proximity almost have me convinced telling her to hold on a second is a good idea. “You’re bringing a new life into your family, and the two of you will never forget experiencing the moment together as long as you’re prepared to handle it.”

That’s right, Raquel. You’re here because you are bringing a new life into the world. So, ignore how good he feels behind you, stop picturing how good he felt inside you, ignore your horny vagina, and focus on preparing for the birth of this baby.

I inhale a discreet, cleansing breath and mentally tell my beaver to take a chill pill. Listen here, you randy biotch. Now is not the time to be distracted. Now is the time to start stretching it the fuck out and doing your best impression of a yoga instructor so we both get out of this birth intact.

I’m literally giving my vag a come to Jesus talk in the middle of a Lamaze class. Pretty sure this is the epitome of hormonal insanity.

Thankfully, Harrison distracts me from my thoughts and my vagina’s newly diagnosed ADHD and squeezes the cocoon of his legs around me meaningfully. It feels good…right…and, just like the night we made the baby, it reaffirms that we’ll never go back from the day he or she makes their debut into the world.