Can’t bloody wait for her to give birth so her brains can start functioning on a setting other than off her nut.
Grey’s words come back to me and I want to laugh. ‘American’s take their football seriously Brit so watch your back’.
“Geez dude, what’s your heat? We were just talking smack. That’s what mom’s do when their boys meet on the field. It’s like comparing dick size.” She grumps, after licking my hand to get me to release her. “Would you get a load of this guy?” she asks the old man sitting to her left. “He’s getting squeamish about a little game noise.”
By the end of the night I’ve been squarely put in my place. Yes, apparently these people have made a sport out of spectator ‘smack talk’ and enjoy it just as much as the game.
When the final whistle blows, heralding a win for Davy and the home team we cheer and clap and then I get Joan of Arc out of there before she can spot her rival and start up another round of heckling.
The things I do for love-
Chapter Twenty Two
Becky
“What’s his problem?” I mutter, balancing the bowl of chicken noodle soup on my eight months pregnant mountain and keeping an eye on the TV as Ryan keeps flicking through channels so fast I can’t see anything but blur.
Devon has been great, fantastic, insatiable the last few months. And so cool about my mood swings and obsessive cleaning it’s weird. But he’s also been snapping at me in random spurts that make me so mad sometimes I want to rip his face off.
Okay, and maybe sometimes it makes me want to cry like a baby, but the point is he’s been weird since the football game to end all games-I say this because it was the first and last I got to attend after he took offense to the American pastime of trash mouthing the other team.
Now I just get to watch it on TV, thanks to Ryan taking the camcorder with and taking footage of all the action. A waste of time since Day can’t keep himself controlled long enough and almost always starts grinning the minute he walks in the door.
I don’t mind much anymore. I am big as a freaking house with his mutant spawn and so off the thought of moving most days it’s a wonder he can get my slothful ass to have sex with him every might.
‘Kay, maybe that’s a lie. I am still in the land of the living, possess my olfactory senses and have perfect eyesight. Being apathetic to Dev when he walks out of the bathroom naked and sporting wood is like saying chocolate isn’t yummy. Not happening.
But he has been acting weird, a lot weirder than usual and I can’t get a bead on him no matter how much I nag and try to weasel the answers out of him.
He’s not talking, not at all and instead of me being okay about it-we’re buddies after all-I find myself on edge and ready to throw a major tantrum. After I cry and admit that I love him and he’s attitude is hurting me and scaring me and-
“I heard him on the phone this morning. He sounded tense and when I walked in he ended the call right quick.”
“Did you hear anything?”
He looks at me guiltily and darts his eyes away before turning back with a sigh.
“I heard the name GiGi and…this can’t be what it looks like hun so don’t go getting upset or anything.”
“Tell me.”
Oh God, please don’t let him be sniffing other tail this early in-but this isn’t a relationship Becky. Remember? You told him you wanted a friends with benefits deal. You made it clear you wanted nothing else.
Yeah! Before he moved all my stuff to his room and started making me sleep in there. I even started having sex with him in the bed despite my earlier insistence that it wasn’t happening ever. Doesn’t that count for anything?
But no, even I’m smart enough to know I can’t get pissed if he’s got another thing on the side since I refused to lay claim to him in anyway but the physical.
Stupid pride!
I don’t want to ask, my pride is screaming that I keep my mouth shut and pretend a nonchalance I don’t feel but I can’t allow that stupid orc to rule me anymore. Just look where she’s gotten me so far.
“Who is GiGi?” I ask tonelessly, keeping my eyes locked on his and as dry as possible.
I don’t want to cry now and that’s got nothing to do with my pride and everything to do with the fact that he’ll clam up and try to coddle me the minute a tear rolls.
“Hun-”
“Who. Is. GiGi.”
I’m so sure I want to know that I will him to tell me, only realizing later that instead of knowledge being power, it’s a sharp, icy hot blade that twists in the gut and leaves you gasping, flailing for breath and nowhere near a resolution to my problem.