Twenty Nine

The rest of the night went routinely. The movie, the walk back to the car, the drive, waiting quietly in the elevator, getting ready for bed, then sliding into their respective sides. Hazel faced the wall, determined to fake sleep, when in fact, her mind was racing.

How many times had she dreamed the good dream when he had snuggled up close to her? How many times had she revisited their wedding night in her dreams? Countless. Even China, a timid twenty year old college girl, said that her dreams meant one thing; she desired having him by her side. But could she trust him, like every other man in her life, with her heart? That was the million dollar question. And the thesis she didn't want to test.

But Hazel wasn't the only one swimming shores away from sleep. Van stared at the ceiling, wondering if he'd done the right thing by telling her how he felt. Yes, it was true that he neither knew heads or tails about 'love' but he was quite sure that he'd do just about anything for Hazel George-Steel. After all, she was carrying his child and, undoubtedly, his heart. Surely that meant something.

For one, he couldn't get his mind off her, and if she knew how many cold showers she cost him. The thought of having her naked and whispering every sweet thing he could use to describe the way he felt made him groan out loud, turning over to face the wall.

Hazel sat up,"Are you okay?"

His back was to her but she knew that he was awake.

"Ye- no. But it's okay. Go to sleep."

His answer sounded gruff, a tone Hazel associated with him being uncomfortable or nervous. She laid down, staring instead at his arm.

"I don't believe in love." her words sliced the tension.

"Why-" Van began.

"No, let me finish. I don't believe in love because I have never seen it. Not anywhere. Or at least, not anywhere in my life. My own parents where strangers I lived with, my younger sister hates my guts for reasons unknown. And then-... simply put, I don't think it actually exists."

Van was silent for a while, weighing his words,"I didn't either. I'm... learning? Or I hope to learn. I've tried at the whole... falling in love thing but it never worked. However, I can't imagine not having you here now that you are; now that you two are."

Hazel's eyes were getting heavy,"But you don't know me.."

"Well I will. Nearly three months down, the rest of our lives to go."

Van pulled her closer to himself, despite her flinching away, and whispered,"Good night, Haze."

His warm lips brushing her forehead was the last thing Hazel felt before she drifted off peacefully.

×forced×

Hazel crept off the bed, biting her lip painfully to stop from brushing them across Van's lips. The door bell sounded again, making her forget her desire and rush to answer it. China O'Neill and Zash Seinfeld stood outside with bags in their hands.

"Hey fat stuff." Zash greeted, wrapping her in a hug, then China hugged her.

They both stepped in, going directly for the kitchen. Hazel followed, considering Zash's nickname. Fat stuff? Surely she wasn't showing that much. If she stared at her belly long enough, she saw the difference, but otherwise she looked... okay.

"I'm not fat." Hazel retorted childishly.

Zash ignored her,"Where's Vany-boo?"

"He's sleeping." Hazel wacked his head.

"That hurt Fat stuff." Zash drawled, winking at her.

"I'm not fat!"

"Of course you're not, Haze. Dickfield is just blind."

All eyes turned to look at the source of -as Hazel thought - the deep and sexy morning voice. Van walked out, thankfully in a sweatpants and tee. His black hair fell over his forehead wildly and his lips -the undoing of Hazel's dwindling sanity- curled in a smile.

"Morning China," he hugged her briefly before he sat next to me at the breakfast bar,"Morning Haze."

His greeting was lowly, almost sensual,"Morning."

I bit my lip again, intent on not acknowledging his proximity. The heat from his body was making me uncomfortable, yet... warm and safe.

"So what are we doing today?" Zash asked.

"Working." both Hazel and Van stated.

China giggled while Zash swore mildly,"Great. What's gonna become of Van/Hazel Jr. if his/her parents are workaholics?"

"That's why they made god fathers." Van retorted, leaning across Hazel to get to the coffee Zash poured out.

Hazel felt her stomach protest, ad her dinner made itself known. She stood, rushing to the bathroom, with Van at her heels.
She wished he'd just stay away but she had no say in the matter, for she was, after all, puking up her intestines. She felt Van hold back her wild hair and rub circles into the small of her back.

With her hands gripping at the ceramic bowl, her face drenched in sweat, and mouth tasting like a stink bomb went off, Hazel could say that she had reached an all time low.

She pushed away from the toilet, feeling dizzy. Van helped her to her feet, then forcefully lifted her off the floor. In embarrassment, she pushed her face into Van's warm chest.

"Mo more coffee, then?" Zash questioned.

Hazel felt Van nod, then, as if being in his arms wasn't enough, he spoke making the sound of every letter ripple any self restraint Hazel had crumble,"Yeah, no more. China, could you make that soup you made for her last time? Please."

"I don't want you to throw up again, you're already too light, Haze."

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