the series of r/nosleep | volume one: the {smile} series

{I}nn

"I'm huge!" My voice echoes off pealing wallpaper and smoke-stained plaster. When's the last time I heard my own voice? When's the last time I actually talked? Am I really that boring? My eyes venture down the mirror towards my midriff again. I've pulled up an old Crestwater sweatshirt to show my belly. It still smells like him; the sweatshirt not my belly. I mean my belly might... I shake my head. Easy, Ashley, I think. No need to get ahead of yourself.

Something in the mirror catches my eye. "No!" I shriek and then immediately cup my hand to my mouth. That was reallyloud. I giggle, then cry, then try to do both at the same time and give myself a headache. They weren't kidding about the hormones. I take a step closer to the mirror. Plastic cups wrapped in cellophane sit next to a single serving coffeemaker. They block my view. I bend over to push them to the side and a sharp pain digs into my left rib. "Okay, okay, no bending. Jeez!" and stand back up. I rock up onto my tiptoes and, "Yep. Turkey's done," I say. My innie is now an outie. I push the sweatshirt back down, but not before bringing it to my nose for a quick sniff. "You're ridiculous," I say to the stupid redhead in the mirror. She nods in agreement. There's a knock at the door.

I rush across the tiny room, practically skipping by the two twin beds, and pull open the door. A cool early-Fall breeze blows against my legs. I slam the door shut.

"Ashley?" The familiar voice on the other side says.

"Pants!" I shout. I can feel my face turn red.

"What?"

"Pants! Err... I mean, One second. I need to, um... freshen up!" Freshen up? Seriously? Now he's going to think I'm giving myself a moist toilette bath. Moist. Gross. Who uses that word?

"Ashley? I can come back later."

"No, Cal," I shout from a crouched position behind the far bed. Where the hell are my pants?! "One more second and – AHA!"

"Are you okay?"

I pull the pants on and skip to the door. "I'm perfect," I say as I swing open the door.

"You're huge!" His pupils swim in wide eyes. Great, Cal Mackey is going to pass out on my doorstep. Well, not my doorstep; more like my rented doorstep, but since this is my only home at the moment...

"That's not really what a girl likes to hear," I say and work my way under an arm and guide him to the bed. He sits down in a confused slouch; his eyes never leave my stomach,

"But... but...," stammers.

"You like it?" I tease. "It's the latest fall fashion. All the girls at school are wearing it these days!" I do an awkward spin and thrust my belly forward. He starts to turn green. Okay, he's not in the mood, I think. "Don't worry, there's only one in there. I've had, like, a million ultrasounds just to be sure." The green shade gets darker. Crap. "It's okay, Cal. I'm okay." I sit next to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and kiss his cheek. "We're okay." Another sharp pain; this one in right rib.

"But... but... how?"

"Well, when a man loves a woman they get married, and then the man hooks up with one of his students and – "

"How long?" He asks.

"About seven months. Maybe eight. I don't really know."

"I can't tell Lois," he blurts out. His eyes never leave my stomach.

I try to lift his head up with my hand, but he resists. "She doesn't need to know. I won't tell her. "

"But, what are you ...? " His voice trails off. He finally looks into my face. He seems much older than I remember.