***So let's just add some fun romantic tropes into this story and see what happens.

Also, I didn't know what currency to use here, so I just didn't LOL Obscure phrases like "she told him the price" (gosh, I sound like a fifth grader) worked pretty well for this chapter.***

***(Jay's POV)***

Oh. Well, that just shows how distracted of a driver I am.

"I apologize, ma'am," I say quickly. "As you can probably see, I got into, uh, an argument with my girlfriend here."

Nya tenses, but she hides it with her fake sobs into my coat.

Yeah. Um, so maybe it's not the most attractive thing to tell a girl you're in love with her on the day you finally get the guts to speak with her. I'll remember that when I write my next book.

The officer nods. "I can see that. I don't intend to cite you, but would you move your vehicle?"

"Oh, um, yep." How the heck do I hide Nya if I'm moving a vehicle?!

I stand there awkwardly for a moment, but when the officer gives me a weird look, I realize I have no choice but to try and move my car. I hope Nya's good at hiding her face.

I attempt to take a step backward, but Nya doesn't let go. Instead, she sags against me, "crying" harder.

I pat her back. "Honey, you have to let me go." I try to gently pry her off of me, but it doesn't work. She hugs me even tighter.

"Is she okay?" the police officer frowns.

"Oh, yeah, she's fine. She just...um...is really...clingy." Something tells me Nya won't like me saying that, but what choice do I have here?

Nya digs her fingernails into the fabric of my coat, and that just confirms my suspicions that she doesn't take "clingy" as a compliment.

I take several steps toward the driver's side of the car, and Nya drags herself along with me the whole way, crooking her arms around my neck.

Well, this is unusual.

I cough. "Honey, I need to get in the car. Um, can you please let go of me?"

"I'll never let go!" she wails.

"This isn't Titanic, Nya. I just need to move my car so I don't get cited." I awkwardly turn so I can open my car door, flopping backwards into the seat.

Nya falls right on top of me.

"Quit acting so emotional," I hiss. "You act like your dog just got hit. Or like you're on something! The last thing we need is for her to give you a drug test!"

"Make some sort of good excuse, then," she whispers back. "I can't show her my face!"

I look sheepishly up at the skeptical police officer. "I apologize, ma'am. I promise she isn't usually like this. It's just, uh, that she hasn't been feeling well the past two weeks, so we went to the doctor today, and we...um..." I'm trying to figure out what to say without giving her some horrible disease. Kidney stones the size of the city? No, thank you. That's just gross.

I clear my throat. "We found out she's pregnant, and she's...um...upset because...well, you know how hormonal pregnant women can be. And we fought because, um, she...wanted to eat lunch out, but I figured that with a baby on the way, we needed to save as much money as possible."

I swear I hear Nya mutter a murderous threat under one of her sobs.

The officer raises an eyebrow. "So...why are you parked at the church, then?"

Oh, that. "Well, because...because my parents are here right now, and I thought we should probably go ahead and tell them the good news, but then she got out and tried to run off – she has tokophobia, or the fear of childbirth. So...yeah. She didn't want to tell them yet." I laugh nervously. "And I still haven't moved my car."

I look down at Nya. "Listen, sweetie, I know you're hurting right now, but I can't drive like this. You're hanging halfway out of the car."

Distressed whimpering is my only reply.

I sigh, looking up at the officer. "Um, so...we might be here a few minutes. Wanna go ahead and cite me, and I'll move the car when she's less...attached?"

She rattles off a less-than-pretty fine, then goes on, "That's not to mention how much your interest rates will rise. I thought you wanted to save money for the baby."

Dang, that's a lot.

Also, this lady totally doesn't buy my story.

I look down. "Sweetie, will you please move? We're being offered a little grace here, and with the baby on the way, I don't think a parking ticket is the best idea." Plus, I'm a criminal justice major, and parking in a handicapped spot probably doesn't help my chances of putting my college degree to good use.

Cautiously, slowly, Nya crawls into the other seat, trying to hide her features from the watchful policewoman. She buries her face in her seat, and I squeeze her shoulder.

"Thanks, babe. I knew you'd see reason here." I look both ways before backing the car out and parking it in a new spot – one that's not handicapped.

The officer comes to the driver's side window. "Make sure you get her some food, okay? Have fun talking to your parents." She shakes her head, walking off and muttering something about clueless men.

I let out a huge sigh of relief as she leaves. "Good work, Nya."

"You have to be joking. That was not 'good work', as you put it. I almost got caught."

"I almost lost hundreds of dollars! I would have done it for you, too."

"Oh, I'm sure." She shakes her head, rising in my passenger seat.

I panic at her flippant tone. "Wait. You aren't leaving, right?!"

"Of course I'm leaving." She looks out the window and mumbles a curse. "She's watching us to see what we do."

"Then leaving is probably a bad idea," I say, grasping at straws. "Please, Nya, just – just give me a chance here? I've always been nice to you at the coffee shop, I didn't do anything to compromise you at my apartment, and I helped you avoid being caught by the police. You understand I'm putting my whole career on the line for you, right?"

"Maybe you should consider a different line of work. I'm not sure criminal justice is for you, if you're into helping criminals escape the authorities." She looks back out the window. "She's still watching us."

"Then I still have time to convince you to give me a chance." I swallow. "Um, so...the reason why I'm a criminal justice major is that for the longest time, I didn't know my birth family. Don't get me wrong, my adoptive parents are my real family, but I always wondered what happened to my bio-parents. It's common for children who are displaced from their birth families to create some sort of a fake reason why they weren't enough for their parents. Most kids argue that their mom or dad is coming back for them once things get better." I shake my head. "I never knew my birth parents until my senior year of high school, so I didn't use that argument. I had to think of a reason why they wouldn't come back for me after I was given up when just an infant. And the reason I convinced myself of is that my parents never meant to lose me and were still searching for me. Nya, I thought I was a missing person."

She shrugs at my silence. "I'm sorry. I don't have much else to say."

"It's okay." I sigh with relief, glad she's still listening. "Um, so I went on a quest to find myself – I got DNA tested when I was older, I looked through hundreds of missing persons photos on the Internet. And I never found myself, because the truth is, I was never missing. My birth parents had always kept tabs on me, and it turns out I was the illegitimate child of a movie star and a small-town girl. They split up after I was born – they had their own dreams and careers, and I was not part of those – but eventually, after life had thrown her a few curveballs, I met my bio-mom again. I was fifteen then. And several years later, my birth dad contacted me, too. He and my birth mom have since reconciled their differences and are currently engaged to be married next year."

She nods. "Nice. But that police lady is still watching us, so maybe we should finish up this ruse and go inside to 'tell your parents I'm pregnant'. Without telling them anything of the sort, of course. And once she's gone, Jay...I'm sorry. It's been nice getting to know you and all, but I still think you're crazy for telling your family we're a serious couple while hardly even knowing me."

"Okay, I admit, lying is wrong. But I don't need to know everything about you to love you, Nya."

"You don't know anything about me."

"Of course I do! You love old books and the smell of coffee and the emo bands that play at the coffee shop. You wear blue and red a lot, but never purple. You snort when you laugh sometimes, and one time, you shot coffee out of your nose. You were so embarrassed, but you just cleaned up your mess and pretended like nothing had happened. And when you smile - "

"I get it. You apparently watch me more than anyone has a right to."

"I don't watch you, I gaze upon your - "

She shakes her head. "Wow. Let's just go inside, okay?"