Fall ❈ Benny Rodriguez

xxiii. sweet

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE!
SWEET　CIGARETTES AFTER SEX

　

　

"KAYLA—PUT YOUR shirt down."

　Kenny snickered; the glare I sent Bertram fell to rest on him too, and he tried to wipe all of his amusement away, but the laughter shone on in his eyes. Bertram, however, looked a bit disturbed, unable to understand why Benny and I had brought the two to my bedroom, just so I could raise my shirt and angle myself so that they saw the tiny bump forming.

　According to the doctor (and the date I so thoroughly recalled—when the child inside of me was conceived), near the end of October, I was little over fifteen weeks along. Finally, I had something to show for it; the curve of my once-flat stomach was practically minuscule, but it was there.

　In roughly an hour, season eight of The Walking Dead would premiere; thanks to me, Bertram and Kenny, Benny and Liz, and Jordan and Ivy watched the show now. In the knowledge that I was the super-fan, they had all decided to gather at my house to watch it. So it seemed a nice night to confess. Liz was the only one of those (aside from Benny) who already knew I was pregnant.

　Kenny and Bertram stood before me now, uncomprehendingly. Especially Bertram: The confusion was written all over his face. Kenny was just amused at Bertram's confusion, even though he was in the dark as well.

　"What the hell are you doing?" Bertram sighed, warily. He extended a hand toward my bare stomach. "Did you get a tattoo? A piercing I'm not seeing?"

　"Oh, my gosh," I grumbled. "Think about it, man. Men. Really, DeNunez? No offense to you, Bertram, but Kenny's a little quicker."

　Clearly, Bertram did take a bit of offense to my words. He scoffed and threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "Well, why don't you just say what you want to tell us? I've never been good at puzzles or charades, okay?"

　Groaning, I dropped my t-shirt, so that my skin was covered again. "Okay. Whatever. Have it your way."

　Kenny went to plop down at the foot of the bed with Benny, watching me all the while. The amusement had bled from his face, curiosity burning in its wake. Bertram stood in his place, crossing his arms over his chest, expecting me to speak. Eventually, I just looked at Benny and said:

　"I really hate being the one to say it."

　Just when both boys' gazes touched Benny, he raised his hands, clapped them against his thighs, and then said, without preamble, "She's pregnant."

　Silence ensued; for a moment, both boys stared at Benny, searching for any sign of a lie. You could have heard a pen drop—even on the carpet. Kenny was the first to fix his gaze on me; his face was mostly reserved, edged with icy shock, and maybe even panic, that he was trying to hide. He just stared at me, dark eyes wider than normal, as if also searching for any signal that this was a prank. Clearly, he found none, because he allowed his eyes, growing more and more wide, to touch the floor.

　Bertram broke the brief silence. "Ha ha. Very funny."

　He turned toward the door and managed a couple of steps before I said, "We've got pictures from the ultrasound. If you want to see them."