by Olivia Myers
Evan’s hands slip up over my breasts and I feel his erection growing hard against my body. I steer one of my hands down his hard stomach and inside his pants. He groans in response and my mouth finds his again.
I’m about to ask him inside, when my cell goes off. I pull back to answer, but Evan continues undeterred, his fingers tugging my shirt loose from my pants and working beneath the thin material and then my bra. His skin is cold and I try not to gasp as I answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Cassandra. It’s Tristan. We met at the bookstore today again? I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“Tristan,” I say out loud, trying to get Evan to pause, but it seems that the name only makes him hornier because he slides a hand of his own down my pants. “Oh.”
“Should I call tomorrow?” Tristan asks and he sounds so heartbroken.
“No. That’s okay. I can talk for a minute.” I try to push Evan’s hand away with my free one, but he’s between my legs now and it feels so good I end up moving my hips and clutching his wrist to keep it there.
“Did you want to maybe get some coffee?” Tristan asks.
“Sure. Tomorrow. Ten. At the Union.” Oh, God.
“You’re breathing kind of heavy. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I was just working out,” I lie. “See you tomorrow?” It’s taking all my concentration not to yelp or moan and the second Tristan says goodbye I drop my phone back into my pocket and bite my lip.
“Hot date?” Evan asks, back at my mouth again. He pulls at my bottom lip with his teeth and I can barely think straight, let alone answer his sarcastic remark.
“Inside?” I manage.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he says and tugs at my waistband.
“I mean inside the apartment!’ I screech, stopping him and glancing around to make sure we’re still alone.
“What about your roommate?” he asks, stopping everything, but holding my waist
Shit. He’s right. “I’ll kick her out?” I offer.
Evan smiles, his blond hair more messy than ever. “How about I leave you like this to think about during your hot date with Tristan tomorrow?”
He kisses me softly and backs away, leaving me wanting and cold.
“You’re not nice,” I say. But I see the lump in his pants and based on my earlier explorations, I know it’s a fairly decent sized lump. “But I guess you’ll have to think about me too.”
“Or you can come back to my place,” he says, his own voice dark with want.
So tempting. I put a hand over my tummy and squeeze my eyes closed, praying I was making the right choice. “Let’s have dinner tomorrow. I need to take care of this first.”
“I get it,” he says. “I’ll text you. Remember, not a word to anyone.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
***
I should have made our date for eleven because by the time I drag my ass out of bed, it’s almost ten. I shower, brush my teeth and throw on some light makeup. I end up with a floor full of jeans because everything is suddenly too tight, so I settle on a cute little sundress covered in zigzagging stripes so my stomach won’t be obvious, just my cleavage.
By the time I get there I’m worried he’ll be gone, but there’s Tristan, sipping a latte and staring out the window. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I concentrate on his mind and try to listen in.
She stood me up. No. Give her another ten minutes. Maybe she’s scared like me. Maybe she isn’t even sure if she’s going to come.
“Hey, Tristan! I’m sorry I was late. I had a rough night. Sleep-wise. I had a rough night’s sleep.” Ugh. I sit down across from him and try to breathe. “Thanks for waiting.”
“I needed coffee anyhow,” he says, tossing his now empty cup in the trash a couple tables down.
“Nice shot,” I say, wondering if our baby will be a basketball player.
“Thanks. I also get to show off my skills. So what’s not to like about coffee dates?” He grins.
“Listen, Tristan, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Right. Well, this is really hard to say, but I’m just going to get it out. Are you sitting? Of course you’re sitting.”
Tristan furrows his brow.
I shut my eyes because I’m scared to look at his reaction. Then I take a deep breath and blurt it out. “I’m pregnant.”
His mind is a silent buzz. After another minute, I risk opening an eye.
Tristan stares at me, but kind of through me. He’s very still. Did I give him a stroke? I pass a hand in front of his face until he blinks.
It can’t be mine.
That’s his first thought. I feel ill.
“It’s yours,” I whisper.
“Are you sure?” he asks in a hoarse voice.
“You’re the only one I slept with for like the last six months. So yeah, unless it belongs to Jesus, you’re it.” I stand up, trying to hold back the tears.
“Wait. Sit down. Cassandra!”
I stop and swing around to say my piece. “Listen. I thought it was only right to let you know. I don’t expect anything. I’m not going to try to weasel my way into your life or ask you for money or anything like that. So you can breathe a sigh of relief and we can both get on with out lives.”
I’m pretty proud of myself for not letting my voice crack.
“Wait. I didn’t say that! I was in shock, but…but I want to be part of my kid’s life. Okay?” He’s standing now, reaching for me.
Please don’t go. I’m such an idiot I might have scared her away.
I sniff and glance around before allowing myself to walk back to the table and take a seat.
Tristan smiles and sits as well. “Can I get you something? A coffee? I mean can you have that?”
“I’ve been drinking decaf,” I say. “But I’m not hungry right now. Thanks.”
Tristan nods, taking it slow. “So, how long have you known?”
I cover my stomach with one hand and glance down. “I was about eight weeks when I found out. I’m actually about fourteen weeks now. Second trimester.”
“Wow. And you didn’t get ahold of me?” he asks, trying to control his anger, but I sense it.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was shocked and confused, and honestly I didn’t even think you’d want to be involved.”
Tristan swallows hard and looks away. How would you know what I’m like? You screwed me, but didn’t take a minute to get to know me. “Well, you were wrong. So maybe we should try to get to know each other a little better going forward. Obviously we’re going to be part of each other’s lives, whether we like it or not.”
That stings and I feel my face flush. He’s right. I didn’t give him a chance. But… “You don’t understand,” I say quickly. “Look, there’s more to tell you, but you aren’t going to believe it and you’ll end up thinking your son’s mother is insane.”
“Son?” he asks, leaning in, a twinkle in his eye. “You know it’s a boy?”
I nod. “Did you not hear the insane part?”
“I’ll try not to judge. Give me a chance for once instead of making all these assumptions.”
The buzz of conversation both internal and external surrounds us, feeling more pronounced. But I also somehow feel like we’re in our own little bubble. Tristan takes my hand in his and leans in further, intent on whatever I’m about to say.
“Okay. Here goes. I’m psychic and so is our son.”
Our son.
Our son.
I smile despite myself.
“Psychic? You mean you sometimes guess what someone’s thinking about? That’s totally normal, Cassandra. I’ve actually been studying that for a class project. That’s why I was in that bookstore yesterday. Now I guess I know why you were. Don’t worry though, I don’t judge you for your beliefs. Everyone’s entitled to her opinion.”
“It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.” I withdraw my hand and settle back in my seat, pressin
g my hands to my temples in an attempt to block out the headache that’s coming on fast.
Is this some kind of test to see how I’ll react? he wonders.
“No. It’s not a test,” I answer.
“Wait. You just heard what I said? But I didn’t say it out loud.” Tristan half whispers, half shouts across the table.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Go ahead and think something else.” I focus on him.
Purple.
“Purple,” I repeat.
I love chicken potpie.
“Ew,” I say. “I don’t like chicken pot pie. But I have been craving hamburgers.”
“That’s incredible!” Tristan leans back, satisfied. “So the baby can do that too?”
I nod.
“How do you know? Can you talk to him?”
“No. Apparently psychic moms can’t hear their babies’ thoughts. But he hears mine. Another psychic told me.”
“Wait. How many of you are there?” Tristan asks, glancing around like he may be surrounded. After yesterday I wonder if he might.
“I don’t know. More than I thought. But this is why I acted the way I did. Can you understand that, Tristan? I’m used to guys’ thoughts and well, they usually aren’t very nice.”
“So you judged me before I had a chance?” Tristan’s face flushes. He’s getting angry again. “You know, thoughts are supposed to be private. How would you like it if I knew your every thought?”
“I can’t help it. I wish I could.” Tears sting the backs of my eyes and I play with a packet of sugar on the table. “It hurts hearing so much all at once. All these people.” I gesture around. “That’s why I used to drink so much. I can’t hear when I’m drunk.”
“You were drunk that night we had sex.”
“Yeah. And you were silent and really hot. I didn’t want to risk you not being the guy I hoped you were. I’m so sorry. If I could do it over—”
“Well what’s done is done. What do you say we try this again? The right way, now that I know the truth. But you have to promise that if you hear me say something silently, that you’ll give me a chance to explain before you run off or get angry.”
“Well at least we know the sex is good.” I grin.
He puts a hand on mine again as flashes of memory heat up our minds.
“Wait,” he says, pulling away. “The baby can see that too. Oh my God. That’s so wrong. I can’t!” He stands up and brushes a hand back through his hair.
“Maybe you better take some time to process all of this,” I say, trying not to make eye contact lest I’ll lose it.
He nods. I’ll call you.
“When you’re ready,” I say. “I hope that you’ll still be part of his life.”
Then he’s gone. Just like that. And I’m confused as hell. He wanted a chance so bad and he seemed like a decent guy. I guess he is, I mean, I am pretty abnormal. Having psychic powers is a lot for me to take in sometimes, so I can only imagine how he must feel.
“Looks like it’s you and me for a while, buddy.” I stroke my belly again and feel a light fluttering inside. I smile and laugh, enjoying it.
***
Sara’s being weird. She got some mysterious text and is making excuses about leaving the apartment. Good thing I’m psychic.
“Are you cheating on Rick?” I ask, stepping in her way before she can leave.
Her mouth drops open. “How did you – ugh. Never mind. It’s just a date. I mean Rick’s great, but I’m still in college. I need to, you know, sow my wild oatmeal or whatever.”
“Oats. And I thought you guys were monogamous.”
So did I until I saw his sexts on his phone with Emily Bauer. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty? ’Cause it’s working.”
“Go. Have a good time. Just don’t do anything you might regret later.”
She glances down at my stomach and I read her loud and clear. I don’t want to end up preggers. She peeks in her purse to make sure she has condoms before swirling out the door in way too much makeup.
So I’m alone when the bell rings around seven. I open the door to find Evan leaning against the doorframe and holding Chinese takeout. It smells amazing.
“I might have cheated a little. The kid told me what your favorite was. He likes sweet and sour too. Can I come in?”
I glance down at my sweats and tug at my ponytail. I’d been hoping he’d text like a normal person instead of just showing up, but it does smell divine and my stomach rumbles in agreement.
“Come on in. Food buys you a free pass to the kitchen.” I follow along, tugging down my top in the hopes it will look decent.
Evan unpacks the brown bag on the small table, setting paper napkins with chopsticks and packets of soy sauce. “So, how was coffee this morning?”
“You don’t miss a beat, do you?” I laugh, taking a seat and opening one of the cartons he’s setting out.
“I’m sorry he left,” he says suddenly, crouching next to me and staring with those intense eyes of his.
“Traitor,” I mumble at my stomach. “Yeah, well, at least he believes I’m psychic and so is the baby.”
“You know what the best – and only – solution is, right?” Evan asks, sliding a hand over mine on my lap.
“What’s that?”
“You need to date another psychic. Then we’re on a level playing field.”
“We?” I repeat.
“You have to admit we have some chemistry going on.” Evan stands and leans in to settle his lips on mine. His hand gently pries the chopsticks from my hand and travels back up to caress my face while the other guides me to standing and gathers me in close at the waist.
He is a good kisser.
Evan scoops me up in his arms like Rhett Butler and carries me to the bedroom I share with Sara, kicking the door open so that he doesn’t have to stop kissing me. “Which bed?” he asks, panting.
I point to mine. He lays me down and falls to his knees next to me as we kiss. His hand slips beneath my frumpy top and over my breast.
“Come on up here,” I say, turning my head briefly so I can speak and he can trace the curve of my neck with his lips.
He climbs in the bed with me and helps pull off my shirt. I kick off my own pants as he pulls off his own shirt and jeans. My belly rubs against the firm skin of his abdomen as we press together, making out. He knows how to touch me and I love his touch; the way his thumb slides back and forth over my nipple, and the way his fingers tease my sex through my panties, making me wet.
I return the favor by exploring in his boxers, and my belly warms in anticipation when I feel the size of his swelling. He pushes off the rest of his clothes, mouth still attached to mine. Then he tugs off my panties as well.
He positions himself over me, hands pressed against the mattress on either side of my head, arms straining to keep him above me, without crushing my stomach.
I open my legs and pull back my knees so he can have easy access. Come on, I think, you won’t hurt me or the baby.
Evan can’t read my mind, but I guess his libido wins out with an extra bit of prompting from my hands. I moan as he pushes inside of me, sending pulse after pulse of pleasure through me.
I press my knees against his sides, urging him on. He doesn’t disappoint, filling me with ecstasy like I’ve never experienced before. I’m made of jelly by the time he’s done with me, and just when I think it’s all over he pushes inside again, as far as he can, and my muscles spasm with electric pleasure.
“Ooooh.” I clutch his arms, not wanting it to end. He waits for me and then releases me, falling onto the bed, his head next to mine on the pillow. Both of us breathe hard.
“Wow,” he says after a moment.
“If the food’s cold, you’re taking me to the restaurant,” I say, but my body feels like butter. “I’m not a cheap date.”
His hand strokes my face and I roll into him so I can gaze into his dreamy eyes. “You aren’t cheap anything, Cassie. You’re amazi
ng and I plan to be around to help protect and guide you no matter what you decide with Phil. I just want you to know that.”
“After that, you can follow me anywhere,” I say and kiss his nose. “Let’s eat, though. Seriously.”
We dine in the nude and I’m not self-conscious like I thought I might be. Evan makes me feel at ease even with my bulging stomach and breasts. Well, he admits he likes the breasts.
He’s easy to talk to, and knows what it’s like to be inundated with people’s thoughts.
“Actually, you can learn to filter to a degree. But it takes a ton of concentration. I’ll start teaching you the technique if you want,” he says, slurping up some chow mein noodles.
I giggle and wipe at the grease on his chin with my napkin, which leads to more kissing, which leads to us doing it on the kitchen counter.
Unfortunately, that’s when we hear the front door.
“Hide!” I whisper, arms and legs wrapped around Evan.
He carries me through the apartment to the bedroom and then into my closet when we hear footsteps outside my door.
I’m breathing heavy, trying not to make an audible sound and pressed against Evan’s hard, naked body while my hanging clothes tickle my back. The outer door opens and Evan clutches me tighter to let me know he’s got me. As if I could forget him there.
I can’t see through the door, but I can reach out with my mind. There are two voices—male and female.
The male voice thinks, What am I doing? I just found out I’m going to be a father and I’m screwing someone?
Then the female voice thinks, Sometimes I think Cassie’s freaking psychic. She better not find out I’m screwing her guy. Nah. She doesn’t own him. Oh God that’s good. How could she give this up? Oh my Lord.
Rick is my friend, how can I do this to him? Oh my God no one’s ever done that. Wow. But…
“What about Rick?” Tristan’s voice pants out loud.
“Who?” Sara asks.
That bitch! My hold on Evan tightens as anger flows through me. She was acting weird because it was Tristan, not because she didn’t want me to know she was cheating! And Tristan? Mr. Moral High Road? He’s fucking my best friend!