“Enjoy the game.”
He’s out of there so fast, somehow, he manages to kick up dust on the concrete floor.
“You, too,” I call, realizing he’s already taking the stairs four at a time.
Me and my bruised ego make our way back to the seats. Sam is there, eyes glued on the game that’s already started while I was making eyes with Zac, with a cold beer in her hand. Before I’m even seated, the story falls out of my mouth.
“I was just rejected by a guy because I’m pregnant. Fake pregnant.” I’m like stunned at how much it hurt me. I’ve been rejected before so why is this such a big deal?
“How do you know it was because you’re pregnant?” She puts the word pregnant in air quotes.
“I was standing on one side of the condiment cart and he was checking me out, flirting with me. He even asked me to come over to his buddy’s suite, but as soon as I moved around the cart and he saw my bump, he backpedaled. Uninvited me, us. You were a part of it, too.”
“Thanks. Glad to know you weren’t just going to ditch me.” She smiles with a wink—she knows I’d never do that, we’re BFFs.
I turn my focus to the game and take a big bite of my footlong hot dog. That guy has no idea what he’s missing out on. French fries, pfft. I talk as I chew. I’m very lady-like.
“So that’s how it’s going to be? I get no action with a baby bump?” Not a complete surprise but it’s confirmed now.
“Maybe he was vegan and that footlong wiener freaked him out. It’s sure starting to bother me.” She makes a face.
I wash my food down with lemonade, and Sam takes a sip of her beer.
“You never know, you might be able to find a guy with a pregnant woman fetish.”
“Really? Is that a thing?” I humor her.
“I think it’s a biological urge, for men to see a woman swollen with child.”
“Even if it’s not their child? That doesn’t sound right.”
Sam shrugs. “No, I’ve heard of it, really. People are weird.”
“I think Ellie would freak out about some random guy’s dick poking around near her baby’s head.”
“The baby’s inside your uterus, it’s not going to get poked in the eye by a penis.” She eyerolls me like I’m some idiot, but honestly, I had to think for a second.
“Well look who’s been catching up on her reading.” I smirk, giving it right back. It’s a wonder sometimes that we’re that good of friends. We tease each other like sisters, and always push the other to do things outside of their comfort zone. Like I make her get a bikini wax and she drags me to hot yoga.
“I glanced at the book while you were adjusting that thing.” She points to my belly, which is starting to sag on one side, making it look lumpy. Partially my fault as I’ve been pushing it from one side to the other to sit more comfortably. The extra weight from the bump only makes the hard-wooden bleacher seats of the rockpile seating section worse. And, where I would normally be enjoying the exposure to the sun, the fake bump is like a furnace on the front of my body. I can feel the sweat sliding down between my boobs, and see where it is soaking through my purple shirt.
I take another big bite of hotdog and a glop of mustard and relish lands on my shirt, right on top of the fake bump.
Sam laughs while I wipe myself up. This day is really getting on my nerves and I just want to get home and rip this thing off.
Then Sam asks, “So, you’ll go on a sex hiatus, I guess. Is that going to kill you?”
Sam has a point; it’s not going to kill me. I enjoy sex, but I’m not going todiewithout it. That’s what vibrators are for, right? But, as long as I know there’s going to be a dry spell, there’s no harm in enjoying myself while I have the chance.
“We should go out tonight,” I suggest.
“Really?” Sam’s like me, always up to have a good time.
“Yes. I’m going to have a real one of these soon,” I pat my fake belly, which has started to slide a little to the left as my sweat has reduced the prosthetic’s stickiness, “and I just discovered they’re not man magnets. And I want to drink a real cocktail,” I raise my lemon-flavored sugar water, “and find a hot guy to make out with.”
* * *
My hands smooth over my flat stomach and the stretchy black material of my form-fitting mini-dress that covers it. After the game I was a sweaty mess. It’s nice to be back to my normal state. During the seventh-inning stretch I peeled off my bump, deciding that stadium seats were not designed with pregnant women in mind and I had enough practice for one day.
