Page 34 of Pretty Little Disaster

“Because I refuse to waste money on clothes that I’ll only have to wear for a few months,” I state the obvious.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He leans over the back of the couch and grabs his wallet, then taking out his credit card, he places it on my lap.

“Nic, didn’t you hear me? I said your sister just gave me a whole heap of very decent clothes. I don’t need anymore.”

“Aren’t you going to need some new stuff for the trip? Miami’s going to be hot.” He brings the trip up again and I remind myself to look enthusiastic about it. I still really want to go, but I don’t want there to be any tension between him and the guys.

“Maybe, but we have time to worry about that. What you need to be concerned with is your birthday plans. What will it be this year? A trip to Vegas? A three-day hangover after a crazy night at some poor unsuspecting celebrity's mansion?” Anything’s possible with Nic and the crazy-assed people he hangs around with. Madalina always worries about him when his birthday gets close.

“Not this year.” He smiles, remaining focused on the hand he’s using to stroke my stomach.

“What are you talking about? You always have a wild time on your birthday, I enjoy hearing the stories. Madalina never told me what happened to that marmoset you stole from the zoo, a few years ago,” I smirk at him.

He dismisses my question and clears his throat.

“I was actually wondering if, maybe, you’d come out to dinner with me.” He’s almost looking shy when his eyes raise up to mine.

“Nic Conte, are you asking me on a date?” I try not to look smug about it.

“Well, given that it’s my baby in there, I figure it’s the least I could do, and since it’s my birthday you can’t refuse me.” He stretches his arms back behind his head and acts all cocksure of himself. I guess he’s decided that I’ve seen enough of his vulnerable side, today.

My eyes glance over his bare torso and those muscles that prominently stick out from behind his ribs.Lats…I’m sure that's what Wes called them when he tried to show his off to me, the other day. Though it has to be said, his were nowhere near as impressive as these.

“Lorna.” I hear him say my name and when I look back up at him he’s wearing a huge grin on his face.

“Jeeezz. I’m not a piece of meat, you know.” He rolls his eyes, and I test how hard his abs actually are by punching him in them.

“Fuck.” He folds over and laughs at the same time. “Can I take that as a yes?”

“If that's how you want to spend your birthday then I have no choice.” I make it sound like a chore because I have to keep some dignity, with the exception of the night we went to Serena’s party, it’s always me that initiates sex when we have it. Of course, Nic never refuses me. He’s always more than happy toassist with my needs, and this whole ‘date’ thing is giving me a little hope that things are moving in the right direction.

Kevin made my mom bravely visit the city so she could come and see the apartment last week and I’ll admit, I liked how it felt while he was keeping up the pretense of us being a real couple. I didn’t like how it felt when she and Kevin left, and things went back to normal.

“You think you’ll be okay here on your own while I go for a run?” Nic gets up from the couch and picks up a tee from the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“I would be, but I think I’d like to come with you.” I take a deep breath and stand up myself.

“You?” His eyes widen as he looks straight down to my poked-out tummy.

“Yeah, me.”

“You can’t go running, Lorna, you’re pregnant,” he laughs.

“Oh, my god, am I?” I slam my hand over my mouth then, rolling my eyes, I barge past him to grab some running shoes and a hoodie.

“You're joking, right?” He quickly follows me down the hall and then stands at my bedroom door, watching as I grab my running shoes from the bottom of the wardrobe.

“Do I look like I’m trying to be funny?” I pick out my favorite hoodie, which I figure I only have a few more weeks of wear for a while, then drag it over my body. “Exercise is good for pregnant women,” I remind Mr Get Your-Facts-Right as I tie my hair up high on my head.

“Yes, in moderation and if your body is used to it,” he tells me, still looking stunned.

“My bodyisused to it. Before I moved in here I used to go running at least three times a week. I actually hold a track record at my old high school.” I reach behind me and grab my ankle, stretching while I smile at him.

“I really don’t thi–”

“We could call Dr Walsh and check if you want, or we could stop by the club and consult one of the books from the library you’ve made of the office.” I smile cleverly as I walk past him toward the refrigerator.

“What are you talking abo… I don’t have a… how did you—” I see the frustration on his face as I grab myself a bottle of water to go.

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