Hand of Thorns by Ashley Beale Page B

you not in that room?" He points back to the building. "Did you not see what we've all accomplished?"
    For the first time I'm seeing Leon a little differently. He hasn't seem interested in having a child up until now, he seemed to be along for the ride, manly for Ellie. I think back to the counseling session I literally just had. Polly Ann, the counselor, said that I need to attempt to look at this pregnancy in every direction. From my feelings, to the feelings of the parents, to those surrounding us all. If Leon wants to celebrate the news of having a child- a child I'm carrying for him no less- than I see no reason to say no.
    There is that little voice in my head saying this isn't smart. That I shouldn't hang out with him without Ellie around. That I'm going to fuck everything up somehow. Then there is the other voice telling me what I'm doing is harmless, because I know what lines not to cross, and I know that he has zero feelings for me. And all I have for him is a measly little crush, because he is insanely attractive. Nothing more.
    "So... what you were thinking?"
    His little grin lifts higher. "Ice cream?"
    "Because I'm pregnant? Are there going to be pickles too?"
    He stares blankly at me. Obviously he never heard of pickles and ice cream before, so now I feel like an idiot. He shrugs though after a second and says, "Sure, I can pick you up some."
    I know damn well my face blushes, but I try to play it off like I'm not super embarrassed. "No, I was making a reference to something. Never mind. Yeah, ice cream sounds good." My words are rushed, but I don't care. I made my point.
    He starts walking towards the parking lot. "Where is Ellie?" I ask, following alongside him. I don't technically care, except that I'm incredibly curious. I'm curious about a lot, mainly why he felt the need to celebrate with me rather than with her.
    "Airport. I had to drop her off after the appointment."
    "So you came back for me?"
    His only response is to glance over at me for a few seconds, then he continues forward. I follow along, waiting for an answer I know I'm not going to receive. Probably because it's obvious, seeings as he is right here.
    He drives an extremely gorgeous bright red Toyota Supra that I don't even know if I want to touch. I look up at him while standing outside the passenger door. "This is yours?"
    "I have good taste, what can I say?"
    "That this thing must go fast."
    He chuckles. "Oh, it does, but don't worry, I won't drive fast. I have precious cargo I need to keep safe." He winks as he opens the door.
    Nothing could have prepared me for the reaction my body has from both his words and that wink. Does he mean me or the baby is precious cargo? I tell myself he means the baby, but something else is telling me that is false.
    Taking a cleansing breath, I open the door and settle into the low seat of his sports car. It's as beautiful on the inside as it is on the out. He tells me to buckle and without a moment’s notice, he is pulling from the parking lot and buzzing down the road. I don't think he is speeding, but I'm frozen into place. With my thoughts, and the feel of this car, and the fact we're in far too small of a space to be alone, I'm pretty well captivated.
    He pulls into a family fun park where there is a long building, which has about fifteen windows where they serve ice cream. Several people stand outside of them waiting for their frozen treats. He parks the car a pretty good distance from the building, so we have to walk over in the scorching hot sun.
    "So are you from around here?" he asks while we walk. He is a lot more commutative now than he has been. He's also extremely personable, but that much I gathered before now.
    "Lived in Los Angeles my whole life."
    "I'm from San Diego. Ever been?"
    "Quite a bit when I was younger. I have an aunt that lives there, actually. Our families aren't close like they used to be, but when I was younger it seemed like we were always visiting back and forth."
    "What part