by Hannah Meade
Emily is full on grinning by now. And, I can't help myself from joining in. "That's great! I bet you had plenty to do around here." She winks at me, which makes me blush even harder.
"Emily!" I hiss. "That is so not what we did. We just played monopoly. I told him he could pick whatever he wanted to, and that's what she chose."
At that, Emily rolls her eyes. I know she is disappointed in me. If she was me, she would've set a much more romantic scene than I did. But I'm not her. "Of course you did. That is so not intimate, Mia."
"I wasn't meaning to be intimate." I roll out of bed, heading towards the kitchen. I figure this conversation is going to last a while, and I'm not having it with an empty stomach.
I take out the pancake mix and syrup, my mouth watering at the sight. I can't wait to make these delicious breakfast yummies, and Emily is not going to get a single one. That's what she gets for waking me up at the butt crack of dawn, when I had gotten maybe five hours of sleep.
I begin heating up my special, teal pancake pan when Emily's footsteps pitter-patter behind me. She comes up behind me and wacks me upside the head.
I cry out in pain and whirl around to face Emily, a huge glare on my face. "What the hell?!"
Emily just smiles, walking over to sit on one of my high bar stools. I absolutely love these things. When I was little, my mother had the same kind of stools in her house. I always used to sit there and watch my mother make breakfast, my little feet swaying back and forth.
Even now, I do the same thing.
I rub the back of my head, knowing a bruise would form there soon. I pour the batter in my pan, breathing in the sweet smell of pancake. Just hearing the batter sizzle in the pan, makes my stomach grumble.
"So why didn't you sleep with him?"
I put my flipper down, shooting Emily yet another glare. She is really pushing it today. "Stop. Right now. Or you aren't getting any pancakes."
I watch as Emily's eyes flicker to the pancake I am currently making. She wants a pancake; I know she does.
I grin in satisfaction as I flip my pancake, feeling very proud when it turns out so round and perfectly light brown.
I hear Emily sigh. "Fine. Tell me about your shitty lunch with your mother then."
My grin instantly fades from my face as the memory of yesterday morning resurfaces. Suddenly, the pancake in the pan doesn't look so appetizing anymore. But, I just shrug. Emily doesn't need to know how awful I felt, so I just play it cool. "She just freaked out when I told her I was pregnant. Same as last time. Whatever."
I keep my eyes trained on the pancake, trying to concentrate on anything but Emily's eyes. She can read me like an open book, and right now, I don't want her to.
"Mia, come on. This is bothering you more than you let on."
I swallow and shake my head. I transfer my pancake onto a plate and pour more batter into the pan. "No. If she wants to be that way, then let her be that way. I don't care anymore." I shouldn't care anymore. But I do.
"Look at me."
Reluctantly, I look up. Now, she can see all of the vulnerability written on my face. It is all out in the open.
Emily gets up off of her chair and walks over to me, holding her hands out.
I walk into her arms, hugging her tight to me. I let go; let my emotions go. I try to hold it in, but I just can't anymore. Not when she is comforting me like this. There is something about a hug that makes someone just spill everything. You can't hold anything back.
I bury my face in her shoulder, trying my absolute best not to cry. "It was awful, Emily. It was like I was re-living that moment four years ago when I told her the same thing. She couldn't believe what I was saying. She told me I needed her money and that's the only reason I was reaching out to her."
Emily rubs my back, a gesture I've come to greatly appreciate. "Oh, Mia. I don't know what's making her act like this. Maybe you should ask her; talk to her about why she acts like this with you. There's got to be some reason as to why she doesn't approve of you getting pregnant young, or even now."
I shake my head, tightening my arms around her. I can feel myself start to cry, and that isn't going to happen. "I don't know, Emily. Right now, all I want is to forget this ever happen. If she wants to talk to me again, she can call and apologize to me. She has no right to act like this, especially now. I'm twenty-two years old. I can handle myself. All I wanted was her support, and yet again, she doesn't even offer it."
I let go of Emily, taking a deep breath as I step back. "I'm going to burn the pancakes, Em."
Right on cue, I smell something. Something that resembles smoke.
My gaze instantly goes to my pancake pan, where small wisps of grey smoke float from the pan, under the pancake. I pick up my flipper and look at the bottom of my pancake. All black. All burnt.
I sigh, picking up the pancake and heading towards the trash. As I watch it fall in with the other food scraps and wrappers, my heart drops. That was a perfectly good pancake, until I fucking burned it.
I look back at Emily, who looks like she is trying not to laugh. "It's just a pancake, Mia. Don't get yourself in a tizzy over it."
I flip her off, heading back to my kitchen space. Now, I am more determined than ever to make a perfect pancake. I pour more batter in the pan, watching it as intently as Emily watches hot guys. And trust me, when she's stalking someone, nothing else even matters. Even when I try to get her attention, she simply ignores me.
I hear Emily's laugh, but I ignore her. Nothing can break my concentration.
Nothing.
BRIIIIING
I jump, not expecting my phone to go off.
I grab it from the island, and answer it without looking at caller id. "Hello?"
I flip my pancake, grinning when I see how good it looks. I could be a chef; open my own restaurant.
"Hey, Mia."
I drop my flipper, not even caring as it clatters to the ground. Emily looks up at me with a weird look, but I can't seem to focus on anything else but the voice that just spoke through the phone.
"Marcus."
~~~
"MIA!"
I hear a faint voice in the distance, but I don't register who it belongs to. I don't even know where I am.
"MIA! WAKE UP!"
The voice sounds familiar, but I still can't place it. There's a short pause, so I drift back into my dream space.
I'm bolted awake by a sharp stinging on my cheek.
My eyes fly open, searching for the source of my pain. I catch the panicked look of Emily, her hand still raised in the air.
I shoot her a glare. "Why did you slap me?!"
She shrugs. "You fainted and you weren't waking up, so I took desperate measures."
Desperate measures, my ass. She just wanted to slap me. "Why the fuck did I faint?" I never faint, not even when I am sick. What in the world could've made me faint?
"Marcus called you and you immediately passed out. I was honestly scared you might have a concussion or something. You hit the floor pretty hard."
My head doesn't even hurt, to be honest. But my cheek still does, thanks to Emily.
Emily's words finally register in my mind. Marcus had called me. Marcus. The same Marcus that I haven't talked to in six months. The same Marcus that's going to be the father of my child.
"Why would he call me?" We haven't spoken in so long, and he's still in New York. He's not supposed to be back, or done with his internship, for another three months. I can honestly say I have no idea why he would suddenly call me out of the blue.
Emily just shrugs, giving me no clue whatsoever. "I have no idea. You passed out as soon as he called you. I hung up the phone for you after you fainted, because I sure as hell was not going to talk to him."
I sit up slowly, as I am still a little groggy from fainting. My phone is sitting near me, so I pick it up. I have a recent call from a blocked number, one I can only assume is Marcus's. I gulp, noticing the reality of this situation. It didn't really seem real until no
w.
He had actually called me. And I fainted. Smooth move, Mia. You're supposed to have moved on. He shouldn't affect you like this!
I try to listen to the voice in my head, but it is hard. How can I not be affected when my ex-boyfriend, who I haven't talked to in over six months, suddenly calls me up and says 'hey'?
I look up at Emily. "Should I call him back?"
Emily grimaces. I see her face pale, which worries me.
"What?"
She gets up off the floor, reaching out a hand to help me up.
I hesitantly take it, letting her stand me up. My stomach is in knots, like it knows something is up. I know something is about to happen, and it's not going to be good. When I get these feelings, I'm usually right.
Emily guides me over to one of my bar stools, sitting me down on it. "You should probably sit down for this."
I frown, truly terrified by now. "Why?" Emily is being really weird; really confusing. I have no idea what the fuck is going on, and that scares me.
Emily swallows. I see her Adam's apple bob up and down. Without breaking eye contact, she yells at what I assume is another person here. "Come in!"
I hear the front door click, and my heart is not ready for what walks through that door next.
Emily steps aside and I see a face I haven't seen in so long. I hadn't realized just how much I've missed that face, until now.
Marcus stands in front of me, his long blond hair now cut short. It is clear he has been working out while he was in New York. I can see the outline of his six-pack abs through his tight white t-shirt.
I feel hot; my whole body is on fire. If I hadn't been sitting, I probably would've fallen on my ass. I don't dare try and stand, as my weak knees will propel me downwards anyway.
No one but I know how much I simply want to leap off of this chair and kiss the hell out of him. How much I want to run my hands through his hair and call him mine again.
But I can't.
He isn't mine anymore.
I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. I need to get my shit together. This is no big deal. My ex-boyfriend just happened to walk through my front door today. I can handle this.
I open my eyes, looking straight at Marcus.
I open my mouth to say something, but Emily interrupts me.
"I'm going to get going, Mia. I got class in like a half an hour. Text me later." I watch her go, trying to seem as calm as possible. On the inside, I am screaming at her to stay. I don't even know if I can survive being in the same room with Marcus without screwing something up. What am I even supposed to say?
The door clicks shut and Marcus and I are now alone.
I clear my throat, trying to come up with something coherent to say to him. "What are you doing here, Marcus?"
He smiles, taking a step closer to me. "I wanted to surprise you. I'm done with my internship. I came back home to stay. For good."
His words ring out in my ears. For good? I haven't prepared for this! I haven't prepared for him to come back three fucking months early. I am just getting in a good place in my life, with the exception of my mother, and Marcus has to come back and screw up my plans. Damn him.
He takes another step closer, but I put up a hand. "Stop. Please."
His eyes plead with me to let go; to come back to him. "Mia, I'm sorry about leaving. I really am. I can't pretend to know what you've been through in the last six months, but I'm here to stay. I came back early, hoping you would be happily surprised." He pauses, really looking at me. I want to look away, but my eyes stay glued to his. "Aren't you happy?"
Am I happy? Am I happy that he is back? I loved Marcus. I really did. All I wanted for the last few months was for him to come back and be with me.
But now? My life is different. I'm not the same person I was six months ago. I couldn't wait for him. I had to move on.
"I don't know, Marcus. Would you be okay if you had moved on from your ex, and then they suddenly appear back in your life one day?"
The guilt approach is all I knew, so I take my chance.
Marcus looks down at his feet, looking regretful. Good. I hope he feels bad. He should. "Mia, I told you I was sorry. But that internship was the best thing that's ever happened to me." He looks back up, catching his gaze with mine. "I learned so much, and that internship is going to help me a lot with my career in life. If you had to choose between your dream and a relationship, which would you choose?"
Wow. I glare at him and jump off my stool, walking away from him. I am done with this conversation.
He reaches his hand out and clasps my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. I whirl around to face him, shooting him a glare. "Let go of me."
He lets go, but still isn't backing down. "Answer my question."
"Your question is totally unfair, Marcus! I wasn't put in that position! I have no fucking clue what I would've done. All I know is that I would not have shut the person I love out for my whole fucking trip!"
He looks taken back, like he wasn't expecting that outburst from me.
I take a step closer to him, with only a couple of inches separating us. I point my finger at his chest, poking him hard. "And you don't get to just come back here one day and expect me to still be waiting for you. I've moved on; I had to move on. Yeah, the first couple months were hell. I laid awake late at night, clinging to the hope that you would come home and come back to me! But, eventually, I realized that wasn't going to happen. I woke up one day and decided that I wasn't going to be sad anymore. I was going be independent and continue to live my life. So don't come back and expect me to still be with you, Marcus. That is so unfair."
I am all too aware of our close proximity. If I lean in a couple of inches, our lips would meet. And I can't let that happen. I take a step back, retracting my finger from his chest.
His arm shoots out, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to him. I hit his chest, our lips brushing against each other.
I turn my head to face the wall; to face anything but the two green eyes staring back at me. "Don't, Marcus. Let me go."
I feel his hand reach up to cup my chin, but I try to shake it off. He can't control me. And I know what he is trying to do.
"Please look at me."
I shake my head, still trying to wrangle out of his grip. He has a tight fucking grip and I can't seem to get out of it.
"Mia, please."
I sigh, realizing fighting is useless. He isn't going to let me go until I do what he's asking. I slowly move my head back toward him, meeting his eyes with mine.
"Do you still love me?"
Fuck yes. Of course I still love him. Nobody ever forgets their first love, and I'm not exception. It's not that easy. But the question is: Do I tell him the truth?
I am afraid what will happen if I do. Or if I don't.
I gulp, not breaking eye contact with him. "Yes," I say in a whisper. I barely hear my own voice, but Marcus knows what I said. No matter how quiet I make myself sound, there is no denying what I said. No denying how I feel. And Marcus knows it too.
"Good." He smiles and pulls my lips to his. My mind is telling me to stop. I am with Ryan now. I can't even be kissing Marcus. This is dangerous territory. It's cheating.
Nonetheless, I reach my free hand up and grab a chunk of his short hair, pulling him closer to me. I deepen the kiss, not caring of the consequences. This is what I need. This is what I needed for the past six months.
Now that I finally have it, I can't stop. It is like I am starving, and Marcus is the only source of food I have. I want him; I need him. He lets go of my other hand, now bringing his hand to my back, pushing me against him.
I can feel just how I affect him and I suddenly want it more than anything.
That's when I sober up.
I untangle my hands from his hair and step back, breaking the kiss. We are both breathing heavy, me more so than him. I can't breathe. What did I just do?
Marcus and I were over. We are over. I can't kiss him! I am so stupid.
I dare a glance at Marcus, who looks confused. "I'm sorry, Mia. I...I don't know why I just did that..."
As he apologizes repeatedly, all I can think about is the words that are on the tip of my tongue. Now is probably the worst time in the whole span of time to say these words. But I fear they aren't going to stop crawling up my throat until I spit them out.
The more I think about them, the more I just want to blurt them out.
So I do.
"Marcus, I'm pregnant."
Thirty-Four
Marcus stares at me, his mouth wide open and his face pale.
I gulp, thankful I finally said the words and nervous about what he will say. So far, he hasn't said a word. He's just been looking at me in disbelief, like this can't be happening.
I'm not sure how to take that. Is he mad? Happy? Scared?
I wish he would just tell me. The more he stays silent, the more I regret blurting it out loud.
Eventually, though, I would've had to tell him. Better sooner rather than later, right?
Finally, he closes his mouth and looks away from me. His runs his hand through his hair; a nervous tick he has. He looks like he doesn't know what to say to me. I don't really blame him.
When I told Andrew I was pregnant with Amelia, he didn't say anything to me for a solid half an hour. I prayed to god Marcus isn't like Andrew, though, who completely ditches me and his child. To me, that is shitty. If you create something inside a girl, that's your responsibility to take care of it. You don't just get to leave; the girl can't.
Marcus stops pacing and looks at me with scared eyes. "I'm the father?"
I nod, too anxious to say anything else.
He nods back at me, a little too much. He starts walking towards my front door and I frown. "Where are you going?"
He pauses, but doesn't look back at me. "I need to think, Mia. I need to think about this."
Yeah. Think and never come back. "Marcus, please. Can we just talk about this?" I hate how my voice shakes as I talk to him, but I am truly fearful. What is going to happen in the time it takes him to think about this? He can decide to be a dick and leave me to deal with a child alone, just like Andrew.
