From Teen To Mom

Chapter 9

As Greyson's car pulls away, I make my way through the front door, the weight of the day finally lifting from my shoulders. Relief floods over me as I enter the familiar comfort of home, greeted by the sight of my mom and Brandon both being there for once. The rare occurrence brings a smile to my face, even though a part of me secretly hopes my brother wouldn't be home too.

With a casual demeanor, I nonchalantly ask, "What's for dinner, Mom?"

Her face lights up with a warm smile as she replies, "Pasta." However, the mere thought of noodles sends an unwelcome twist in my stomach, threatening to make me sick. I fight back the nausea, knowing that my mom's pasta has always been my favorite dish.

"Sounds great," I lie, doing my best to sound enthusiastic. "Um, would it be okay if I invite a friend over for dinner?"

Curiosity shines in my mom's eyes, "Which friend?"

I bite down on my bottom lip, mustering the courage to answer. "Greyson... He's a boy from my school."

In a swift motion, Brandon whips his head around, his blonde hair falling across his forehead. Our eyes connect, and I silently plead with him not to say anything that could potentially complicate things further.

"Oh, is that the boy you recently went out with?" my mom asks, piecing together the information.

"Yeah, that's him. He's a cool guy," I assure her, trying to keep the conversation light and casual.

A smile tugs at my mom's lips as she responds, "That's fine with me, sweetie."

Relief floods over me, grateful that my request has been granted. "He's going to be here at 6. I think I'll take a nap before dinner," I say casually, though my voice trembles slightly, the underlying anxiety threatening to consume me.

"Of course, sweetheart. Rest well," my mom replies, her attention already drawn back to the TV, where a cooking show captivates her. Cooking has always been her passion, a way to escape and find ease amidst the chaos of life.

I take a deep breath, attempting to compose myself as I make my way upstairs to my room. But just as I reach my door, Brandon appears out of nowhere, blocking my path with a furious whisper. The anger in his eyes is detectable as he demands, "What are you doing with Greyson?"

I shrug, desperately trying to maintain a cool act. "We're just friends, it's not a big deal."

"No, that's not true," Brandon retorts, his voice filled with accusation. "Greyson isn't just friends with girls."

I roll my eyes, my annoyance bubbling to the surface. "Just stay out of my business, Brandon."

But he doesn't back down. His determination is evident as he blocks me from entering my room, his words cutting through the air. "I'm not stupid, you know. I'm not mom. I'm home a lot more than she is. I've noticed you sleeping a lot lately, quitting the school play and basketball. I hear you throwing up all the time. Either you're pregnant or you have a serious drinking issue. And you don't seem very drunk."

Tears well up in my eyes, his words hitting me harder than I anticipated. I've never been good at hiding things from Brandon and lying to him would be pointless. With a shaky voice, I plead, "Please don't tell Mom. I'm going to tell her soon."

His anger softens, replaced by a mix of concern and frustration. "Is it Greyson's?" he asks.

I let out a weary sigh, exhausted from the weight of my secret. "Yes. Now just drop it and go away, I'm tired." Without waiting for a response, I close my bedroom door, shutting him out.

After my much-needed nap, I groggily awaken to the realization that it's already 5 pm. Panic sets in as I frantically try to put on my favorite pair of shredded skinny jeans, only to find that they won't button. Frustration courses through me, and in a desperate attempt to salvage my outfit, I grab the hair tie that's been resting on my wrist and loop it around the button and the buttonhole, making shifting a solution to hold my pants together.

I quickly throw on my favorite plain black hoodie, the soft fabric comforting me as I let my long, natural curls cascade past my waist. Today, they seem to have a life of their own, bouncing with an extra vibrancy. I decided to forgo any face makeup since my skin and eyelashes are looking exceptionally good, the pregnancy seemingly bestowing upon me a radiant glow. It's a small consolation amidst the different changes my body has undergone.

As I make my way down the stairs, the creaking sound echoes through the silent house. The clock on the wall reminds me that it's almost 6 pm, and the tantalizing aroma of sizzling hamburger meat, fresh garlic, and simmering spaghetti sauce fills the air. It's a smell that has always held a special place in my heart, evoking memories of family gatherings and comforting meals. But right now, as I descend the staircase, it takes everything in me not to feel a wave of nausea washing over me. The once-beloved scent of the pasta is suddenly repulsive, causing my stomach to churn.

Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rings, jolting me out of my thoughts. Surprised that Greyson is 10 minutes early, I hurriedly compose myself and answer the door. As it swings open, I am immediately hit by the overpowering stench of cigarettes clinging to him. It assaults my senses, a harsh contrast to the comforting scents flowing through the house. I force a smile and greet him with a quick, tight hug, holding my breath to avoid inhaling the unpleasant odor that hangs in the air around him.

"Come in!" I say, my voice tinged with a mix of excitement and dread.

Greyson steps into my living room, his presence filling the space. At the same time, my mom emerges from the kitchen, a blur of motion as she continues cooking with unwavering focus.

"Hello, Miss Benson, I'm Greyson. It's nice to finally meet you! Thank you for having me over; dinner smells amazing," Greyson says, his voice carrying genuine warmth as he extends his hand to shake my mom's.

My mom's face lit up with a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners although I could see her quickly glance at the tattoos covering his body. "So charming! Dinner should be done in just a few minutes. You can just call me Kayla. It's a pleasure to meet you!" She quickly returns to her cooking, the tantalizing scents intensifying as she works her magic in the kitchen.

I steal a glance at Greyson, his eyes filled with admiration for my mom's hospitality. "Your mom seems nice," he comments, his voice lowered to a hushed whisper.

I glance around to make sure my mom can't hear us, then lean in closer to Greyson, my voice barely above a whisper. "Brandon knows!"

His head snaps towards me, his intense brown eyes locking onto mine with a mix of surprise and concern. "What? Did you tell him?"

"No, of course not! I'm not stupid! He figured it out on his own," I reply defensively, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and frustration.

"Well, shit. That can make tonight awkward." He mutters, his brows furrowing as he contemplates the approaching dinner.

I silently agree with him, my mind racing with worry as I pray that my brother won't cause a scene during dinner. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, overshadowing the tantalizing aromas and threatening to dampen the evening's atmosphere.