Arthur Rogers
Arthur shrugged, smirking subtly at Samâs comment.
âReal men wear pink,â he countered playfully. âAnd I didnât say âbooâ about your pants. Theyâre gorgeous.â Glancing over his shoulder, he defensively held up his hands in surrender. âFine, fine. Iâll drive us there.â He made his way outside to the driveway where his burgundy Hummer was parked. He opened Samâs door for her and then walked over the the driverâs side and climbed in. The car roared to life as he shoved his key into the ignition and loud, alternative-rock music blared through the speakers of the car, nearly deafening them.
âSorry!â he yelled over the radio, turning the volume dial down quickly. Arty smiled weakly. âI forgot to turn off the radio yesterdayâŠheh.â They drove toward the class without a single slip-up from Arthur. Heâd memorized the route earlier that morning. As they pulled into the parking lot, he bit his lip and made a mental note of the cars there. ââŠare we late?â he murmured, getting out. He hurried inside, his black leather Converse tapping lightly against the tile floors as he slowly pushed the door open and slid into the room. He wasnât the most coordinated person and, in turn, ended up tripping over his own feet, causing a few people to look up at him.
Clearing his throat and giving a weak smile, he waved at the others and waited for Sam, whistling softly. After she entered, he took the seat next to her, placing a hand over her smaller one. âCalm down, sweetheartâŠâ Eventually, a young man walked over toward them, beginning to talk to his wife.
âArty, this is Johnny, I wrote about him once,â said Sam, causing Arthur to raise an eyebrow slightly. She wrote about him, huh? Wondering why exactly his wife would have written about this man, he slowly held his free hand out and smiled.
âArthur Rogers,â he said. âPleasure to meet you, er, JC. Are you here with your wife?â Now, Arthur wasnât anti-gay by any means. Actually, the drummer of his band was in an intimate relationship with the guitarist, both of them male. He just assumed that, well, if you were at a Lamaze class; you had to know someone who was pregnant. Thinking logically, he knew men couldnât get pregnant but, of course, the idea of a surrogate hadnât crossed his mind.
Raymond Hale
As JC roughly pulled away from him, Raymond frowned and bit his lip, opening his mouth to call after him before closing it. Hearing Johannahâs comment, Ray blushed subtly and rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his feet. Heh, sister my ass, he thought.
âIâm not jealous,â he muttered, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. He shrugged subtly and sighed. âNoâŠyou two can go look for apartments. I have no idea when Iâll get time off anyway. Besides, JC seemed eager enough to go search for apartments with just you.â As Johannah brought up the fact that, technically, JC wasnât related to the unborn child, he frowned. His husband always got upset over that. Not that he could blame him, of course. They had been wanting to have a kid, just the two of them, for ages and then some woman came along and now it was suddenly her kid and Rayâs kidâŠstill, he couldnât help but laugh softly along with her.