"I can't wear these," I whined.
Bri was laying on the couch watching TV and I think trying to ignore me. I stood in front of the TV.
"I can't wear these," I repeated.
Bri tilted his head, trying to see the TV. I swayed to keep his view blocked. He slowly looked up at me. His face turned red.
"You can't wear what?"
I pulled at the jogging pants. "They're too long."
That made him grin. "I never thought I'd see the day when you were shorter than me," he twanged.
"I never thought I'd see the day when I had bo--"
"Don't say it!" Bri bellowed. "Don't say THE WORD!"
I clamped my mouth shut and gave him a couple seconds to calm down. When he did, I started in again.
"Besides I don't have any underwear. My foreign hoo-ha's just hanging out. Can I borrow a pair of Leighanne's?"
I had been saying the wrong things all day, but that seemed to take the cake. He scrambled up into a seated position. "Are you nuts? You can't wear my wife's..."
Before he could go into a long explanation about why I couldn't wear his wife's underwear, the phone rang. Bri scrambled for it, no doubt fearing it was wifey herself.
"Leighanne?" I guessed. Bri worked his jaw side to side.
"Becky."
I groaned. "Don't answer it."
"I've got to answer it! She's just like you. If she doesn't succeed once, she'll just keep trying. And if I still ignore her, she'll come over here."
That thought scared the beejeebies out of me. "Answer it!" I squealed.
Bri's finger punched connect and he leaned back.
"Littrell residence," he said politely and as if there were more Littrells than just him in the apartment. He listened for a moment. I could hear Becky's voice rising, even though I couldn't make out what she was saying.
"Where's Nick? Well that's a funny story..." Bri said slowly. I waved my hands in the air. He didn't look my way. "He followed me back here and he was just about ready to stop by the florist for some flowers and candy when he got another phone call."
Flowers and candy? I thought. "I'd like some candy," I said aloud. Bri's hand smacked the air. I sank down on the carpet and pouted.
"Who was calling him? It was...it was Aaron. Yeah Aaron. A whole bunch of Backstreet fans mauled him and they got into a big argument. Nick didn't give me all the details, but he said something about needing to see Angel. I think she's in Sacramento now. Yeah, Sacramento."
I made a face. I knew Angel well enough to know she would more likely be in Paris or someplace awesome like that.
"He hasn't called you? Well, I'm sure he's okay. Maybe he'll text you or something."
My eyes widened. I crawled over to the coffee table and grabbed my phone. I couldn't speak to her, but I could text her. I bit my lip and stared at the blank state.
On a flight to Tampa. Going to see mom and Angel. Aaron nuts. Hope u r okay. Drink some ginger ale.
I hit send, feeling pretty proud of my romantic message. Bri was stammering through the end of his conversation.
"He just texted you?" Bri said. We shared a look. Bri quickly turned away. A moment later he coughed.
"I think him telling you to drink ginger ale is probably the same as 'I love you.' Am I right?"
Bri winced. I stuck my finger in my mouth and began to chew my nail. Bri leaned forward.
"Yes, I promise you if I talk to him before you I will tell him he's a giant dick and that he shouldn't hurry home," he said in monotone. "As a side note, let me know if you need anything, okay?"
From the phone I heard a loud wail. Bri paled. "Please don't cry. I hate when girls cr--"
He held the phone away from him. "She hung up," he said dumbfounded.
"She didn't like my text message?" I asked, talking around my finger. The moment I said it, I felt the weirdest feeling in my stomach. It was like a persistant little...kick. Bri turned to look at me.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm chewing my nail!" I said, still concentrating more on what was happening in the large basketball of a belly I was sporting.
"You're sucking your finger!"
"So?"
Bri buried his face in his hands. "Oh Lord."
Nick just didn't seem to get it. Becky was pissed, but he was completely clueless to why. I felt like shaking him by the shoulders. Even in the mind and body of a woman, the guy was still an imbicile when it came to what women wanted. I wondered if I'd ever been this stupid. How long had it taken Leighanne to "train" me to understand her?
"Can't you just take a breather a sec and imagine what Becky's feeling right now?" I demanded, "Rather than whining?"
"But I put a lot of thought into that text," he whimpered, "And instead of just appreciating me she goes and says I shouldn't bother coming home quickly... Doesn't she miss me?"
"Well, you did run off to Florida with no real warning," I pointed out.
Nick pouted. Suddenly, his face paled and he bolted out of the room.
"Nick?" I called after him.
The bathroom door slammed as a response. I sighed as further wretching sounds emanated from the hallway. I wandered down the hall and pushed the bathroom door open and, like deja-vu, found the blonde woman sprawled across the bathroom floor. "You're supposed to be past this part of the pregnancy," I muttered, coming up behind him.
"Shut up," he moaned through a mouthful of bile.
"I'm just saying."
"I feel gross."
An evil-evil-evil idea struck me. Becky was so going to worship me. I turned towards the door.
"Where you going?" he asked sadly.
"The game's on," I said.
His eyes filled with tears. "But I'm puking."
"Drink some ginger ale, I hope you feel better," I said, trying to quote what he'd texted Becky.
He hiccupped. "But Brian," he groaned.
"The game's on," I whined in my best impression of him.
Nick's eyes spilled tears across his cheeks. "Brian please," he cried into the toilet. This was quickly followed by further wretching. I felt a tug in my stomach. Nick had always been the most horrible-sounding barfer I'd ever heard in my entire life. He managed to make it sound like his stomach was being pulled out of his throat somehow. I closed my eyes to keep my own lunch down. "Please," he belched.
I sighed, "Why don't you understand that I wanna go watch the game?"
"Aren't I more important than the game?" he asked.
"Isn't Becky?" I countered.
Nick looked up at me with watery eyes. "Becky?"
"Get some ginger ale?" I asked, trying to jog his memory.
His eyes widened, "Oh my --" but he was cut off by a fresh round of puke.
Satisfied that he'd caught on what I was saying, I inched closer, sat myself down on the edge of the bath tub, and collected his long hair into my hand, holding it back, away from his face. I rubbed his back. Flashbacks of the early months of Leighanne's pregnancy with Baylee floated through my mind and I smiled nostalgically. "It's okay, sweetie," I said, more to the Leighanne in my memory than to the Nick before me.
"S-s-sweetie?" he mumbled around a mouthful of whatever-he'd-had-for-breakfast.
I patted him awkwardly. "Yeah, it's gonna be okay."
He looked up at me. "I need panties, Brian. Your sweatpants are stuck up in my va-jay-jay."
"Okaaaay, so we'll go get you underwear," I said. "And me some new sweatpants." I shuddered at the thought of wearing the pants again, knowing that Nick's newfound va-jay-jay had touched them.
He blinked up at me wetly, "Can I have a thong so I can stare at it in the mirror?" he asked.
I raised my eyebrow.
"Maybe a lacy one?"
"Nick?"
He grinned, "I could give it to Becky as a present afterwards, too..."
I rolled my eyes. "Now there's a good present to give a wife when you've abandoned her, pregnant and puking, to go to Florida without announcing yourself..."
"I have magic hips," he said, running his hands across his body. He looked down. "Well I did. I also had a magic pe--"
I stood up, "OKAY!" I yelled, interrupting him, "Lets go buy you some undies."
Nick grinned wickedly. "I know just the place."
