OVULATED: Pregnancy Romance Collection

by Snow Novels

  “Uh, RaRa. Did you know Andre is in the bathroom?” I cringe as I remember how dumb I sounded.

  “Of course! He spent the night.” She said it as if I was a naive child. “You didn’t notice? I tried to be quiet, but it was hard!” I remember she giggled and angled her neck so I could see the large hickey Andre had placed to mark his ownership of her body.

  Now I swear he seems to spend more time in our room than I do. I wouldn’t care so much if they weren’t so damn preoccupied with making out. It’s not that I am jealous – hell, I don’t WANT a boyfriend, and if I did it wouldn’t be Andre. But I need to study, and Andre’s deep throaty laugh and RaRa’s giggles are supremely distracting.

  I try to study in the library, but if anything it’s worse than my room, with clusters of students and phones beeping non-stop. I have to find somewhere else to go. Somewhere quiet…. Like the Psych lab! I have a key because I volunteer as an undergrad assistant, and part of my job is helping feed the various rats, mice and guinea pigs the department keeps for experiments. I unlock the door and let myself into the spacious room that smells like fresh sawdust. It’s so quiet I can hear the rustle of nesting animals and the small squeak as a mouse runs circles in its wheel. Perfect!

  The Psych lab becomes my second home, and I spend every evening there, only returning to my room to sleep. Most of the time Andre and RaRa are wrapped in a rabid exchange of spit, but sometimes I walk in on RaRa screaming and sobbing melodramatically as she throws the pink pillows that cover her bed at a confused looking Andre. It really doesn’t make a difference, I always ignore them and they ignore me.

  Chapter Two

  Prof Reed has a surprise for us when we arrive in class on Monday morning. Instead of the regular lecture, a note instructs us to go to the lab. Most people have never been in there before, and are curiously poking fingers in the cages and peering at the equipment. I just sit at what is now my usual table – over towards the window where the light from outside spills sunshine on my work – and pull out my tablet.

  “Good morning!” Prof Reed grabs our attention as she scribbles “Self-Directed Assignment” on the whiteboard and underlines it with a flourish.

  “We will be doing something different until midterms,” she announces to a mixed chorus of groans and cheers, “each of you will be…” her voice is drowned out as the lab door flies open, and Andre walks in, announcing his presence by high-fiving the other jocks in the room.

  “… Mr. Foeks, so nice of you to join us.”

  “Nice to see you too, Prof!” Andre winks at her flirtatiously, making half the students collapse in laughter. She blushes, not even the teachers are immune to Andre’s charms, as she attempts to retain control of the class.

  “Okay, okay! Settle down! Andre, by the window, please.”

  He throws his heavy backpack on the floor and sits next to me. The table suddenly seems uncomfortably small, and I almost tip the high stool over as I attempt to put as much distance between us as I can.

  “What’s up? Not used to seeing me with my clothes on?” he whispers, and despite myself I feel the heat rise in my face as I stare straight ahead, fingers typing notes into my tablet. He chuckles, and pulls out his phone, sticking ear buds in his ears. He closes his eyes, and I swear he’s napping.

  Prof Reed is going around the class and each pair is selecting a topic for their assignment. She reaches our table.

  “Mr. Foeks!” Prof Reed addresses Andre. He opens his eyes lazily and stretches. “Sorry. At practice late last night,” he apologizes. Like hell he was… I saw him with RaRa at 10:30pm, heading out the door to a Frat party.

  “Do you have a project in mind for you and Ms. Patel?” Prof Reed asks patiently.

  “Uh, I do… but I think my girlfriend might be pissed!” He winks, and the class erupts in laughter. I flush, embarrassed and irritated.

  “Ms. Patel?” she addresses me. Do I have a project idea? Yeah, of course I have a project idea! I’m Sarai Patel, whose 4.0 GPA has remained un violated since 5th grade. I stand and speak:

  “I propose the question: Do highly processed foods really affect children’s behavior? We will research and conduct an experiment where we have two groups of children. One group will be fed whole-wheat low-sugar cupcakes, and the second cupcakes made with refined sugar and white flour. The subject’s behavior will then be observed through the play of supervised games.”

  “Approved,” she says, smiling at me before she moves on to the next table. Andre pulls his stool closer to mine. I glare, expecting some inappropriate crude line, but he whispers “Thanks, Sarai” and I’m shocked into to smiling in return. I didn’t think he knew my name, much less how to pronounce it properly: Sar-I with the emphasis on the I, not Sarey or Sarah-ee like most people say it. Scary Sarey was my nickname in High School, and I hated it.

  “You don’t have to do anything, you know.” I say, recovering my attitude as I google “effects of food-coloring” on my tablet. “I’m sure you have better things to do than study…” I’m unable to resist the insult, and to be honest, I really don’t want to have to work with him. But he doesn’t reply, and when I look he has slipped ear buds in and is zoned out listening to music. I sigh again and go back to my research.

  Chapter Three

  I come to class early, start research and type up results from the tests I did during the week. Andre rolls in late, ear buds already in, and slides onto the stool next to me without a greeting. It’s kind of ironic really, I see him in once a week in class and most evenings in my room, but after that first morning we act pretty much as if we are invisible to each other. I imagine to him, I’m just this unattractive, unimportant thing that just happens to end up in his vicinity on a regular basis. His constant presence is less easy to ignore. It’s not just that he’s the best-looking player on the football team. (Seriously, they had a poll and he won by like an 80% margin or something nuts!) But he’s got what I think you call “presence.” Like you know, when someone walks into a room and everyone stops and turns and stares at them. Andre is like that.

  Of course, I can’t see how he won in the looks department personally, but then muscles were never my thing. I go for brains, and I don’t see Andre winning the most-intelligent in the school vote! But I do get that for some reason he’s really, really hard to ignore. Sometimes I swear he’s staring at me during class, but when I dart a look over at him, he’s always kicked back, one foot pushing the stool backwards at a dangerous angle, ear buds in and eyes closed.

  So I assume it’s my imagination when I am in bed doing some prep reading for the next morning’s class and I sense eyes boring into me. I look up out of habit, and start in surprise. RaRa must have gone to the bathroom or something, because Andre is sitting alone on her bed, and he IS staring across at me. I gather myself and stare back coldly.

  “Sarai.” He pronounces it right again. “You can always join us you know?”

  “Sorry?” I ask, confused.

  “There’s a party at Delta O tonight. You should come with us. “he says.

  “Um, no. Thanks.” The thought of willingly choosing to hang with Andre and RaRa is a very odd one. I wave my book at him. “Reading ‘Introduction to Statistics’ in my PJ’s is my style. Frat parties and beer bongs are yours.”

  He shrugs and says “Don’t judge a book by its cover…”

  What the hell does he mean by that? I’m about to ask when RaRa whirls back into the room. She’s wearing barely visible gold-flecked pantyhose under a pair of baby-blue shorts and matching halter bra. A sparkling diamond draws attention to her perfectly flat midriff.

  “Ready?” She grabs her Gucci clutch and heads out the door without checking if Andre is following. He stands, stretches, and looks at me again.

  “Anytime, you know. You’re welcome,” he repeats his invitation, and it sounds sincere.

  “Andre!” RaRa’s impatient tones sound outside the door, and he gives me a small nod, then turns and leaves.

  My mi
nd is curious, but suspicious. Why would Andre invite me to a Frat party?

  Chapter Four

  Andre surprises me again next Monday. Instead of leaving the second the clock hits 10:00am - regardless of if Prof Reed is in mid-sentence or not – he hangs by the lab door as if waiting for someone. I’m surprised when that someone is me.

  “Hey, Sarai!” he says as I walk past. I turn in surprise, and he continues: “Hey listen, I know I haven’t been much help on this project.”

  “No problem.” I shrug and start to walk away. He grabs my arm.

  “Wait!” He glances around, and I wonder if he’s nervous to be seen talking to me. “Look, I want to do the experiment. Like, be there with the kids and all. Okay?” he asks.

  ‘Shit!’ my brain thinks. I just know he’s going to screw this up majorly. I mean, every single experiment I’ve ever seen him work on he’s ruined. There was the time he “accidently” told the control group what the test group was doing. I bet this time he’ll sprinkle powdered sugar and drip food-coloring on the cupcakes that are supposed to be all natural. “Just for fun,” he’ll say, laughing as I try and corral 20 crazy hyper under-tens.

  “It’s okay. I got it.” I mutter as I try and walk away again. But he doesn’t let go of my arm. I stop and stare at him. “Excuse me, can I go now?”

  “You have to let me help, Sarai. I’m your partner, remember?” He is serious, staring at me, and I notice his eyes are a cool grey-green. Funny, I’d always just assumed they’d be blue.

  Damn. He’s right. I have to include him. I sigh. “Okay. We’re having a party at my parent’s house next Saturday. I have it all planned already. My brothers and sisters and some of their friends are coming so we’ll have two groups of ten kids…” I explain the plan to him, and he listens, nodding and even taking notes like he was really interested. It’s kinda weird. I finish by giving him my phone number and my parent’s address, and he saves them into his phone carefully.

  “So, next Saturday!” He goes to high-five me then catches himself and shakes my hand formally. “See ya, Sarai!”

  He walks away down the corridor whistling, and I stare after him. For the first time I grudgingly admit to myself that his tight butt in those washed denim jeans is hot. Really hot. A memory of seeing that butt naked jumps into my mind and my blood floods hot through my veins. Shit. What the hell am I thinking?

  And why do I feel like we just made a date?

  Chapter Five

  He’s on time, even early, but I’m already in the back yard, surrounded by children. Half are running around screaming playing tag and half are glued to devices, tapping at their screens or watching YouTube. I sigh; these kids are split into hyper and catatonic without needing any cupcakes. I’m setting up the cupcake table, and organizing the games for afterwards as he walks across the patchy grass towards me. My younger brother hangs from the backyard tree, gawping and nudging his friend.

  “Hey, Sarai.” He glances around, looking as awkward as he obviously feels. “All these your family?”

  I laugh. “Nah, just four of them. Jessie over there is my sister, the dark-haired kid with his nose glued to the tablet is Raj, MoMo just went inside, and that’s Jay hanging from the tree.”

  Jay waves excitedly. “Hey, Andre!” and drops to the ground.

  “He plays football in elementary school, so I guess he’s kind of a fan,” I explain, but Andre is already walked towards the tree and Jay and his friends are grouping around him, gesticulating and asking him questions. Someone gets a ball and suddenly an informal coaching session is happening in our back yard. I stare for a moment as Andre patiently shows Raj how to put a spin on the ball. Who would have thought fly boy Andre would be good with kids? I smile as I start sorting the cupcakes and labeling them with names.

  Two hours later, we’re sitting in the shade of the tree as I collate our notes. I’m surprised to see that Andre did a good job – his observations are clearly written on the form I’d printed out in small square, neat handwriting.

  “Thanks for helping,” I say it honestly.

  He grins. “You thought I’d screw it up, didn’t you?” he asks.

  It’s my turn to grin. “Yeah, well. You don’t exactly have a good reputation. But these…” I wave the notes, “these are great results. I’ll be able to write them up into a really good paper.”

  “Thanks for pulling most of the weight on this, Sarai” he tells me. “I wish I could do more, but I can’t. Football players aren’t A-students. It’s kinda like you said – “Frat parties and beer bongs are my style.” He pulls a piece of long grass and twists it around his long fingers. “If people knew I actually have brains, it would be too weird – so I play the part they expect. I can keep a C-average in my sleep, so there’s zero pressure. I play football, party, hang with the cheerleaders. I can do what I want.”

  I’m not sure how to reply, so I stare at the grass. A line of small ants is parading through it, proudly carrying their cake-crumb spoils from the party. Andre reaches down and places a leaf in their way, watching the momentary confusion as they work out how to make their way around it.

  “I like being a big shot on Campus, you know. But sometimes I wish I could just be a regular student, quit having to be cool. I’m at University but I’m not learning anything.” He addresses the ants, talking as if I’m not there. I sit quietly, listening. “My Frat brothers want me to party every night. Coach keeps bugging me to eat better, practice more, push myself. My dad…” He pauses and presses his thumb into the dirt, squashing an ant angrily. “My dad wants me to be a pro like he was. To play in the NFL. To win the Super Bowl ring he never did. He was mad when I didn’t make it into USC, LSU or even Ohio State. But to be honest,” He looks at me, and I smile a nervous encouraging smile, “I don’t really like football, Sarai. I would rather be in a lab – like you. I play for my dad, not for me.”

  He stops, and sits quietly. I’m thinking what to say, but everything seems trivial, dumb. “Well, you have RaRa…” I attempt, and he laughs bitterly.

  “You think RaRa and I really care about each other? I’m a fashion accessory for her, a trophy. And to me, well, I date cheerleaders because I know I won’t get too involved. They get clingy, I dump them.” He pauses and turns to me. “If I wanted to get serious, I’d date someone who doesn’t expect me to be anything other than who I am. Someone smart, easy-going, someone I can really talk to…” he grins as he stands and throws his backpack over his shoulder to leave. “Someone like you, I guess!”

  Chapter Six

  His words haunt me all weekend, and on Monday morning I greet him with a smile as he slides himself into the space next to me. After Saturday, I figure we’re at least on “Hi, good morning” terms. But he grunts something unintelligible and pointedly turns his back, throwing up a hand to slap a passing teammate, and winking across the room at RaRa’s best friend Julieta.

  “Lookin’ hot today, Jules!” he yells, and she simpers at him.

  “Not lookin’ so bad yourself, Andre!” She yells back, and the cheerleaders in the class whistle in chorus. Andre flexes his muscles obligingly, and the girls collapse in mock swoons. I shrink into the shadows, and flick my tablet on. Saturday was obviously a blip into the temporal timeframe. An alternate universe Andre that only shows off-campus. His comment as he left was a flirt, a tease. He didn’t mean it. I sigh and pull up the results from the experiment, start drafting my – our – paper as Andre shoves his ear buds into his ears and zones out beside me. Normality is resumed.

  “By now you should have all completed your experiments and are starting to write up your results,” Prof Reed addresses the class and there is a shuffle as the class sits and settles.

  “Mr. Foeks,” I start as she addresses Andre. “Can you please describe your experiment, the methods you used and the results you obtained. Were there complications? Did you obtain the results you expected?”

  Andre pulls his ear buds out, and smiles at her disarmingly. “To be hon
est, Prof. I have no idea.” He glances across at me, and my stomach lurches into my throat. I don’t know if it’s from fear that he’s about to deliberately screw our grade, or how those intelligent grey-green eyes twinkle with amusement as they look into mine. “Sarai is the brains of our team,” he’s smiling at Prof Reed now, turning his charm on her, “why don’t you ask her?”

  Prof Reed considers whether she’s going to challenge this display of arrogance as Andre tilts his stool backwards again, and replaces his ear buds. She decides to ignore him, and I remember what he said about playing the role of the dumb jock. He gets away with not working, time after time after time. He’s right, and for some reason I am mad. Mad at Andre for playing the idiot, and mad at Prof Reed for letting him.

  “Sarai? Can you please detail the experiment that you, and I presume Mr. Foeks, performed?” Prof Reed asks. I stand and move to the front of the class. Andre pays no attention whatsoever, tapping his foot as he mouths the words to whatever song is playing on his iPod. He’s the image of ‘I don’t give a damn,’ and I find it super irritating. I smile to myself as I have a wicked idea.

  “Yes, Professor. Andre and I performed our experiment last Saturday.” There are some whistles from the back row, but I ignore them.“We had a party to which we invited 20 under-ten year-olds. Andre was there, and participated fully.” The class titters at the thought of 6’3” 210lb. Andre playing with little kids, and he pulls his ear buds and stares around, trying to work out what joke he missed. I decide to rub it in.

  “He actually is extremely good with kids. He played with the younger ones, they loved it. My 6-year old brother is quite a fan!” I say, playing my nerdy serious side to the max. The class openly laughs, and Andre flips his stool upright.

  “So I played football with some kids! Big deal!” He snarls angrily at the class, before throwing an ugly look at me. I stare back coolly. He thinks he can smile sweetly and manipulate everyone? I’ll show him just how under his spell I am!