The temporary bed rest the doctor places Mindy on is almost like a prison sentence. She feels like she's under house arrest. As much as her parents loathe the situation that she is in, they are more than willing to keep her at their house and chauffeur her around town for as long as the doctor wants her off her feet. Mindy is their daughter and while they are struggling to come to terms with her pregnancy, her mental and physical health are their utmost concern. They rarely ask about, let alone mention, the baby. Mainly her parents drop hints about adoption, as if she's not an adult or it's an absurd notion that she raise the child herself, with Drake. Her parents have made it perfectly clear that Drake ("that irresponsible and reprehensible entity") is persona non grata at their house and they are reluctant to let Josh inside but since he knows how to keep his hands to himself, they are willing to allow his visits.
When he has time, Drake sneaks by during the day while her father is at the office, if her mother is out volunteering or lunching with friends.
She's at the dinner table with her family one evening when she feels a weird sensation, like a ripple or a fluttering inside. She excuses herself and hurries into the downstairs bathroom and calls Drake. He answers after the third ring and she practically squeals, "I think I just felt the baby move."
"Are you sure it wasn't just gas? I read that sometimes—"
"Drake, I am trying to share this moment with you."
"I know." There's a pause. "Hey, can I come over? Are your parents home?"
"They're here. But, you can still come over after they turn in for the night. You might not be allowed in the house but they didn't say anything about the back or front yard."
She returns to the table and she feels a bit appalled and intrigued by her rebellion against the rules her parents have set forth. If years ago, when she had to live by their rules, they had forbade her from dating Josh, she would have honored their wishes until she was old enough to not need their permission to follow her heart. Now it's as if she had Drake are star-crossed lovers. The mere thought causes laughter to bubble up inside of her and to escape from her lips. Her family looks at her funny and she apologizes.
Her parents go upstairs just after ten; her brother works on his homework. She and her brother have never been particularly close but they get along well enough. Unlike her parents, he talks to her about the baby and what she plans to do. She doesn't tell him about Drake's visits because she knows that he'll say something to their parents and she wouldn't want him to lie for her anyway.
Around eleven, she sends Drake a text. It's a good walk from the Parker-Nichols house to the Crenshaw residence; they wouldn't want the motor of Drake's car disturbing Mindy's parents and alerting them of his visit. She waits, lounging on the swing in her mother's garden in the backyard. She hears the rustling of branches signaling Drake's arrival. He steps out of the bushes, brushing leaves off of his clothes. "You know, you could have walked through the front yard."
"This way was quicker," he says, offering her a goofy grin. He joins her on the swing, "Have you felt the baby move any since earlier?"
"A little." She gives him a stern look, "It's not gas."
"Hey, I was just checking." His hand slides over the slope of her expanding abdomen. "When do you think I'll be able to feel it?"
She shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know. Maybe in a couple weeks, maybe longer."
In the little moments like this, it's almost like they're a real couple. They've both always been so self-assured and in control but there's always this uncertainty when they're together. Mindy compartmentalizes and she likes everything properly labeled yet this defies labeling, it's hard to even describe. There's an intimacy in their silences during his clandestine visits, his hand always lands on her stomach when they're talking about the baby and sometimes it stays there. They're still stumbling about. She doesn't want to want him or need him but that no longer seems to matter. She's taking preventative measures, placing her heart high up on a shelf, because she refuses to let her heart be broken by Drake Parker. She won't deny that she's starting to care for him but she will not admit that love is any closer than light years away.
And she hasn't forgotten about Josh, she can't, for a variety of reasons. He's there and he's not there, he holds her hand and he kisses her cheeks and her forehead. These chaste kisses whisper that he's still there and he's still waiting. She feels bad because she can't tell him to let her go—she doesn't want him to. She can't tell him that her feelings towards Drake are changing, that there is more to him and her. In all the years that she has known Drake, he has always hated the labels associated with relationships. Labels have been more than enough to cause Drake to cut his losses and sprint for the nearest exit in the past. Now, Mindy is the one who's balking at the prospect of putting a label on what they are and what they could be.
Not that Drake ever tries to bring the subject up, not verbally anyway. He kisses her gently, prodding her with his lips to acknowledge that something is happening between them. He doesn't want to rush her, he just needs a sign, confirmation. It's almost enough that she easily melts into his kisses, no longer hesitating or pulling away abruptly. Slow, tender kisses that normally end before Mindy wants them to. He's holding back and Mindy appreciates that he's treating her with respect, waiting for her approval to move things further.
She lays her head on his shoulder. "I cannot wait to be back in my own apartment next week."
"Yeah, I'll bet." Drake weighs what he's about to say. "You know, if you don't want to stay here until then, I could spend a few nights. On the sofa."
She turns her head slightly, "You've spent enough time in my apartment to know how small it is, Drake. Sometimes I don't feel like there's enough room for me, there's certainly not enough room for another adult. There's no room for the baby." She groans, "I'm going to have to start looking for a bigger place soon."
"We could get a place together. It would make things easier."
She lifts her head and stares at him, "What would it make easier?"
"Us co-parenting. I can't help with 2 a.m. feedings if we're living in different places."
"Drake—"
"I'm not trying to trick you into anything. This is just about our baby, I swear."
"Either way, Drake, moving in together to a huge step. I mean, we just started—we are just getting used to this life-changing event. If things between us were to revert to normal after the baby's born and we're stuck living together—"
"It was just a suggestion, Mindy. You don't have to get your panties all in a bunch. And I would just move out."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"I know," he cuts her off. "I should go and you should probably get some sleep."
He stands and holds out his hands to her. She raises an eyebrow as she places her hands in his so that he can pull her up, "I don't have a problem getting up yet, but thank you."
He smirks at her and kisses her on her cheek, "Good night, Mindy."
"Night, Drake."
After the two weeks of prescribed bed rest, Mindy has never been so happy to be back in her own apartment as when the doctor tells her that she still needs to take it easy but that she can resume her normal day-to-day living. She has missed her freedom, the ability to come and go as she pleases, and entertain whomever she wants. The baby isn't treated like a dirty little secret at her place and she can be giddy when she feels it moving. She feels the rush of a thrill when she tugs Drake closer to her as they make out on her sofa.
Mindy notices that the baby's more active when Drake is around, whether he's touching her or talking to her or talking to the baby.
Maybe her mind is clouded by lust but she tells him between kisses, "I'll consider moving in with you. If you land a steady job."
He pulls away, "Seriously?"
Her arms are still around his neck, "Yes, I will seriously consider it."
"When you say a 'steady job,' what exactly do you mean? I do okay with the money I make from being a professional musician."
She chuckles, sliding her hands down his chest before pulling them onto her lap, "Okay, Drake, do you have any idea how much it costs to raise a child from birth until the age of eighteen? On top of all of that, rent, bills, groceries, car payments, car insurance, emergencies—the cost of living. Most of the money you make is from touring, Drake, and let's face it, you're not exactly a hot commodity anymore." She holds her hands up, "I'm not saying that to be mean. And your fans are loyal, I will give them that, but whenever you release another album, there's no guarantee that you'll make any money off of it."
He scoots away from her, "Are you saying that you want me to give up my music?"
"No! No, I'm saying that you need a more dependable form of income if you want me to consider cohabitating with you."
"So, what, is that like a deal breaker?"
"In regards to us living together, yes." She's not going to stop this with him if he doesn't want to get a 'real' job. Unless he's obnoxiously bullheaded about it.
He sits back, contemplative. "I've never wanted to do anything else. I've always just wanted to be a kick ass musician."
She leans closer to him, placing her hand over his, "And you can be. Just as long as you can also contribute your fair share." She sits up straight, "Unless you're having second thoughts. If you are, that's fine and we'll forget about us maybe moving in together."
"I'm not having second thoughts, I just—I don't want to work some lame 9 to 5 job and have to wear a suit all week except for casual Fridays."
"There are other jobs with more flexible schedules and relaxed dress codes."
He frowns, "God, is this what it's like to live in the real world and be an actual grown-up?"
"Yes."
"This sucks."
She shrugs, "It's not so bad. You might find something else you like, something to do with music—you could be a deejay!"
"Do we have to keep talking about this right now? I think I'm losing my mojo." He squirms a little then he furrows his brow. "Hey, do you think that the baby will like my music?"
She softens, "Yeah, Drake, of course, the baby's going to love your music."
"Do you like my music?"
She did not see that question coming. She stutters, "I, well, I wouldn't say…." She clears her throat and tries again, "It's not that I don't like your music. It just does not appeal to my personal tastes. But! But, I can appreciate your musical endeavors and I will support them fully."
He narrows his eyes for a moment, "If you're trying to use big words and complex sentences to confuse me, you're doing a lousy job. You can say that you don't like it. It's not going to hurt my feelings. I've spent enough time with you to know that it doesn't fit your musical tastes or whatever."
"I'm just not a fan, okay? Is the only reason that I have any of your albums in the first place because Josh gave me copies? Yes. Honestly, I don't even think that I've taken them out of the plastic."
"So, wait—you've never even really listened to any of my music?"
She's a bit sheepish, "Aside from the few live performances I attended with Josh, not really."
He looks stunned. "That's worse than you telling me to get a job."
"Drake, don't be so melodramatic."
"I am not being 'melodramatic.' I have every right to be upset or dramatic. If you were an artist, like a painter, and I told you that I wasn't really a fan of your work but I had never actually seen any of your paintings, wouldn't you be a little upset?"
"I don't know. Maybe." She sighs, "Does it really mean that much to you?"
"Yeah. If you're not going to like my music, you should at least listen to it first to see if you really don't like it, have something to base your dislike on. It might grow on you. You didn't like me and I'm growing on you."
She jokes, "Like a fungus."
He makes a face and shudders, "Ew."
She rolls her eyes and kisses him. "Fine, I will assail my ears and listen to your albums."
"That's all I'm asking." He steals another kiss from her before adding, "Well, not all…"
She knows that tone and she fixes him with a hard look, "What?"
He's needling, "You and me, where are we? What are we?"
"We're friends."
"I think we're a little more than friends, Mindy. I don't make out with my friends, do you?"
It takes her a few seconds to respond, "I try not to make a habit out of it."
"Well, we seem to be in the habit of making out."
She inches her hand over to his and laces her fingers through his, "I am quite aware of that, it's a habit that I'm fond of." She squeezes his hand. "And I enjoy the rest of the time we spend together."
He's not going to let this go anymore. "But?"
"I'm still trying to figure it out. I don't want to commit to there being an 'us' only for things to change after I have the baby." She's growing exasperated and she pulls her hand away from his.
"But you admit that there could be an 'us.'" It's not entirely a question nor a statement.
"Drake, you know how I feel about us having this discussion. I'm not ready for it yet."
He slaps his thighs and rubs his hands on his leg. "Okay. Well. That settles that."
"Settles what?"
Drake stands up, "I can't believe that I, of all people, am saying this, but, you are cut off."
She springs to her feet, baffled, shocked, "What?"
"Until you're ready to admit that you and I are a helluva lot more than friends, there will be no more," he gesticulates wildly between them, "'us' not being an 'us' and making out! I don't want to use you and I don't want you to use me!"
"I am not using you and I don't think that you are using me. Drake, I know you care about me, and I care about you and you know that I do. Can't that be enough for now?"
"No. I've spent years being with girls that I didn't feel anything for, some of them only wanted to be with me because I'm sort of famous, and I can't do that anymore, not with the baby on the way. So, no more playing around; I am done being that kind of guy."
She hooks a finger through one of his belt loops, her eyes beckoning him to take a step closer and kiss her, "Even if I want you to be that kind of guy right now?"
"No."
No? She tries another approach and pouts a little, "Drake…."
"I am not Josh, that won't work on me. I will not be swayed or tempted by your—your feminine wiles. I might be easy but I am not that easy."
She snorts, "Yeah, we'll see about that." He's being completely serious and he is not budging. "Drake, come on!"
"No, Mindy, I'm putting my foot down. You have no idea how difficult it is for me to do this but it's your fault. There will be no more fooling around until you tell me what I need to hear."
"I just said that I care about you!"
"Caring is not enough."
Sometimes love just ain't enough.
"Drake, you are being ridiculous!" She purses her lips then squares her shoulders, "We both know that you are going to change your mind."
Drake places his hands on his hips, taking his own defensive stance, "Yeah, well, until one of us caves, you're still cut off."
She glares at him, "Oh yeah? Because I'm pretty sure that Josh will have no problem picking up where he and I left off!"
"You wouldn't!"
"Wouldn't I?"
"You are so infuriating!"
"No more than you!"
The air is humming with electricity around them and it takes every ounce of strength for Drake not to grab Mindy and kiss her senseless. He grunts then turns of his heel and storms out of her apartment.
Her nostrils flare, the door slams and she lets out a frustrated groan as she flops down onto the sofa, pummeling the cushions with her fists.
