Dirty Little Secret

“I want you so bad, Zacky,” I whisper, gazing into those gorgeous green eyes.

His lips crash into mine, the faint taste of metal from his lip rings dances on my tongue. I moan as his hands find their way underneath my shirt, his calloused fingertips gently grazing my skin.

I break the kiss, letting him remove my shirt. He tosses it to some unknown corner of the room. I pull him back in for another urgent kiss.

He begins to lean into my body, leading me into a horizontal position.

He pulls away from me, panting. “Are you sure?” he pants, running his thumb along my cheekbone.

I smile. “I’m sure, Zacky.”

I rub my hand against his crotch, feeling his erection through the denim of his jeans. He lets out a soft moan, his eyes falling shut.

“Angel,” he breathes.

I kiss his lips. “Zacky, I want this.”

~

I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing. I grab it from the bedside table and answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Angelica, I didn’t wake you, did I?” Chuck’s voice asks from the other end.

I groan internally. “No.”

“Good, I was just calling to see if you wanted to grab some breakfast.”

“Sure, sure, that sounds great.”

“Okay, I’ll see you down in the lobby in twenty minutes.”

“Alright.”

“I love you.”

“Me too…”

I hang up the phone and stare at the image on the screen; a picture I took of the beach a couple years back while we were out in California. California, my favorite place to go to on tour. California, where my life changed forever…

I sigh and set my phone back on the table. I eat a couple crackers to help keep the morning sickness at bay and then dig through my bag for something to wear. I settle on some jeans and a white shirt with grey and black striped sweater vest. I brush my hair and teeth, and then put on a bit of makeup.

I look in the mirror and turn to the side, inspecting myself. I’m only nine weeks along and my stomach is already starting to grow. I can see a slight bump, but I'm told I only see it because I know it’s there. The guys said that they can’t see anything and Zacky didn’t notice last night so I guess it’s all in my head.

I look at the time; I’ve got five minutes to spare. I decide to go ahead and head down to the lobby. Though it’s very doubtful, there is a chance that Chuck is ready already; it’s quite possibly my biggest problem with him, he takes longer than I do to get ready to go anywhere.

I get to the lobby and Chuck is nowhere in sight. I let out a sigh and take a seat. I get my phone out and start browsing through my stuff to pass the time. I get to my pictures and realize just how long it’s been since I’ve looked through them.

The first picture is of me and David being goofy with our tongues out. The next one is a picture of Pierre making one of his infamous silly faces, one of those that he makes at the end of the vlogs. I laugh to myself as I go through the images.

That is until I find one that’s easily four years old, one that is clearly from my old phone that I simply couldn’t let go of. It’s a shot of me and Zacky from the night we met. I smile at the picture and Zacky’s colorful hair. The next one is of me and Brian; I'm not quite sure what he's doing, but it looks funny. I go to the next picture and it’s one of just Zacky. I take a sharp inhale, realizing that his green eyes are almost as dazzling as they are in person, and I can’t help but become mesmerized by them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I should have said thirty minutes,” Chuck’s voice says, breaking my trance.

I close my phone and look up at him. “It’s okay; I haven’t been waiting too long.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” I get up and smooth out my shirt, my hands run along my stomach and I feel that stupid bulge. Are they sure it’s not that noticeable?

We arrive at a small diner and take a seat in a booth. A waitress hands us menus and takes our drink orders, telling us she’ll be right back. I’m starting to feel sick, I’m not sure what it is exactly, but there is a smell here that I don’t like.

I take a deep breath and realize that it wasn’t the best idea. The smell of eggs hits my senses; I’ve identified the culprit that’s making me feel nauseated. I try to fight it off, but it’s no use. I quickly excuse myself and make a mad dash for the bathroom.

After what feels like an eternity of dry heaving I make it back to the table. Chuck looks at me with a worried expression on his face.

“Are you okay?”

I have the urge to be a smart-ass, but I fight it. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered for you.”

“Oh, what’d you get me?”

“Scrambled eggs.”

I feel my stomach lurch. “Oh.”

“What’s wrong? Scrambled eggs are your favorite.”

“Remember what we found out about two weeks ago? The smell of cooked eggs makes me sick.”

“Oh… I forgot. Sorry…”

“It’s okay. I should learn to deal with it.”

It turns out that I can’t handle eating the eggs after all; instead I munch on a piece of toast and take my huge prenatal vitamins while Chuck eats his food. He offers me some, but I decline. He finishes and we head back to the hotel.

I tell Chuck that I’m not feeling well and am going to rest. He insists on staying with me, apologizing for breakfast, but I tell him not to worry about me. He eventually caves, walking away from me disappointedly.

I get to my room and I lie down on the bed. I turn on the TV and wait for the hours to pass until I can go see Zacky.