"fuck," a boy bites his lip, prodding at his small--but still undeniably swollen--belly in front of the mirror. "i'm showing already? I haven't even taken a test yet."
the other boy shrugs. "you knew already, though."
"i had my suspicions. god, just look at me..." he turns to the side, and it's worse. it's jutting out! already! he claps his hands onto his belly, gripping it and jiggling it a bit. as if he's expecting it to come off, or the bloat to go down, or for this to be fake. but he can feel it under his hands--it's firm. just like it was with his last brat. "how is this possible?"
"there's no way the boss is giving you another maternity leave within the same year."
the pregnant boy doesn't respond.
the other gasps. "you didn't."
"there's maybe a 30% chance it's his, okay? do you think that works in my favor, or...?"
"does it matter?" his friend cackles. "you're not gonna raise it anyway, right?"
he hates this part. his other kid is being raised by his far more responsible, far less slutty sister. he wants to do what's right--this always happens, it seems, he gets attached from the moment he starts getting morning sickness--but...
he rubs at the little belly. "right. i'm just thinking...if he thinks it's his fault i'm like this, he'll give me time off to push it out, don't you think?"
"it's worth a shot," his coworker shrugs, giving the boy's belly a pat of his own. "i hope you missed working the pole with a belly. god, we've gotta get you on birth control."
