Pretty Boy [bxb] | ✔️

Chapter thirty-seven (**): Growing up & other ways to mature

𝙂𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 & 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚

After cooling off for a bit, my mother has been nothing but supportive of Sofia's pregnancy and is now all grandmother-excited.

Sofia apologised to me later that day about what she said, explaining that it came across entirely different to what she meant to say and wasn't thinking about what she was saying due to being frustrated. I quickly forgave her.

She soon told everyone else about being pregnant. At first, my dad was pissed. Not at her, but at the guy who knocked her up. He was adamant on talking with him and had to grudgingly accept the fact that the father is still unknown and we may never discover who he is. Now all he cares about is Sofia's health and safety.

Eva is simply excited about being an aunt, and Luca doesn't give two flying shits, as expected. I'm happy as long as she's happy. It's looking up, I guess.

One thing I'm not happy about, though, is Cami's thoughts on it all. Not her reaction to Sofia's actual pregnancy as such, she's supportive, but to whom she's accusing of knocking my sister up. And it's weird, ever since I started dating him, all she's doing is talk shit. It's like she knows something.

"I bet it was Montgomery," She says, leaning over my kitchen counter. "The guy who knocked up your sister, I mean."

"He doesn't live near the park," I respond, mindful of the fact that my boyfriend could easily walk in on this conversation any second. I drain my coffee that I have clutched between my hands and place the mug in the dishwasher. I don't think the caffeine is going to have a great effect on this conversation.

Because Cami never wants to hang out at her house for some unknown reason, Alex is chilling in my room while she's over. For obvious reasons, she doesn't know he's sleeping in my room rather than the couch, so I'm trying to avoid her going up there.

"Maybe she can't quite remember where his house is and thinks it's near the park, but it's not," She says, hitching herself up, so that's she sat on the counter rather than leaning over it. "She was drunk, so her memory of it is more than likely a little bit hazy."

"What makes you so sure that Alex is the dad?" I reply.

Precisely this is why I don't want to tell her about Alex and me. She hates him with every fibre of her being, and I don't want to go through her clap back. I desperately want her to be happy for me, and that's seemingly going to be impossible. I don't have a clue how I'm going to get her to accept it. I care more about her being OK with my relationship than my sexuality.

She looks at me as though I asked her what two plus two was, "Matty, he's a man-whore. He's slept with basically every girl in this freaking state other than me. God knows how many guys, now that he's all out the closet."