Peace of eaves, don't sleep with your best friend the day you garget, and if you do make sure you're safe so don't get pregnant with his child. I walked more like a wordless into the kitchen. "What's wrong?" Al, my best friend that got me pregnant, asked.
"I'm fat!" I exclaim, you see I'm 40 weeks pregnant, and I'm sort, like 5'1. So my proportions are off.
"You're not fat, you're pregnant, and even if you were fat, I don't care. I love you." he tells me, I don't think much of this, he is my best friend. "No like I love you, romantically." he tells. This I'm sucked at this, oh marlin.
"You love me?" I ask, he nods. I ran up and kissed him, I should tell I have been in love with Al for 5 years. A worm feeling spreads through my body. Then a sarape pain in my stomach, then a wet feeling in a gash, "Al" I gasp.
"What's wrong?" he asked, holding me up. I try to tell him but my pain is still there. He court on, and grabbed my hospital bag, and apparats me to saint mongos. After a couple hours our son. Our parents walk in.
"Ravin, he's lovely, what's his name?" My mom asked. I look over to Al and nod.
"Harry Owen Potter." Al said.