Don't Judge: A Teen Pregnancy

Part IV

*Not a Peyton Meyer fanfic. Just thought he fit the part.*

As soon as I get to Chipotle, I see him standing at the door. He greets me kindly with a nod and hold the door open. A gentleman, I let myself think even though I should not. I will not let a boy get to me, not now.

"Hey," I say. "What's up?"

"You look nice," he replies.

"Oh thanks," My cheeks blush up. Maybe I think Just Maybe. We walk up to the counter and order.

The cashier tells us the total, but I interject,"I am sorry ma'am, but those are separate."

Jay stops me to to speak,"No it's cool. I've got this one."

"Really?" I ask. I am a major feminist, so I do not know why I am letting him pay for my food. It is just a kind gesture. It is just a kind gesture. He does not like you. Who would like a pregnant fourteen year old. You are missing out on so much. Think of what what you could be doing with . . . to him if you did not have this baby.

STOP! I scream at myself. This is your baby. You are strong and you can do this. You know you can. In the end, it will all work out. Things will change.

"Yeah, no problem." He does not see me tearing myself apart in my head, none of them do. They watch, paying attention only to what is on the outside when there is a rough sea of disastrous waves on the inside. 

"Aw thanks. You're so sweet." Shit. Shit. Shit. I probably came off flirty. No, stop worrying. You are fine. He does not matter.

We sit down to discuss the questions. Once we each have the same twenty-five questions, we just talk.

I ask," How do you like senior year so far?"

"I love it," he replies. "What about you?"

"It is just kind of weird being so young and all." He arches an eyebrow letting me know that he was lost. "Oh. Haha. I though you knew. I am fourteen. I skipped a bunch of grades."

"No way. You look like a senior!"

"Be that as it may, I am only fourteen."

He looks shocked, "Cool." It is funny. He is clearly trying to mask whatever he is feeling with the 'cool dude star of the football team' act.

"I am sorry if that is weird or something."

"No. I am cool with it. I have to go, but we can meet up tomorrow." It pings at me. A reminder that I have nothing and no one except for the baby inside me. As if I was not alone enough, this baby will make everyone flee from me like I am carrying a bomb instead of a child. that's all I am, a ticking clock.

Tick, tock.