THE WRONG KIND OF TROUBLE

Chapter 19

I pressed ‘call.’

It was not until the fourth ring that the call was finally picked up. I inhaled sharply, bracing myself as a stern voice came through the line.

“What?” The voice yowled in complaint.

I huffed first, not out of nervousness but to steady the pain twisting my stomach enough to speak clearly.

“I’m going to hang up now,” he said, but before he could, I gathered my words and forced them out.

“My stomach’s complaining again,” I said in a husky, strained whisper, referring to the cramps. The pain was actually starting to ease, but it still gripped me in warning.

“So?”

Ugh. Unbelievable.

“What do you mean 'so'? I checked the cupboards, and there are no pain relievers.” I paused to twitch my waist, then continued, “B-b-buy some!” I added a sharp edge to my tone, trying to sound authoritative despite the ache.

A long sigh came from his end, followed by distant voices.

“One more shot, bro!”

A chorus of cheers echoed faintly in the background.

I knew it. He was in a bar somewhere, probably drinking and maybe surrounded by girls. How the heck did he even get into a bar? We’re in high school. We’re not even allowed there yet.

You know what… I don’t care. I had a bigger problem now.

“Hello?” I muttered when I realized he had gone silent. I glanced at the phone screen. He was still on the line, but he wasn’t saying a word. I called his name again, twice, but nothing came through.

Reality hit when the call ended. He had hung up on me. I can't believe he hung up on me. That guy was unbelievable.

I twisted my body, trying to find a comfortable position. For a moment, the cramps vanished. I tried to pull myself up with my hands, but the horror came rushing back. For a second, I truly thought I might collapse before ever seeing my baby.

Then my phone rang.

It was Wes. I grabbed it as fast as I could.

Finally. About time, I thought.

"Sammy! Oh my glob! I am so sorry! I put my phone on voicemail because I was putting my cousin to sleep and I fell asleep

t—"

I interrupted him. "Wes, I’m fine now. The cramps have passed, but there are no pain relievers here, and basically, Tom doesn’t care."

"Where is he?"

"Out being a menace," I said, still caressing my stomach softly.

"Alright. Don’t worry. I know what to do," he said.

I listened carefully, storing his instructions for next time. He explained how to relax so muscles wouldn’t tense up, and suggested using a hot compress.

"That is what one of my cousins did when she had a menstrual cramp once. I wasn’t sure it would work for you, but..." he trailed off.

We said goodbye after about twenty-five minutes, and I stayed in bed, just in case, but thankfully, the pain did not return.

"You seem fine," a stern voice said from the doorway. I looked up and saw Tom leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest.

He studied me with his usual stoic expression, smirking slightly before stepping closer to the bed. He knelt beside me and rubbed my stomach gently, like it was some soft, precious animal.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a paper bag clutched behind his back.

I shifted, confused. He kept caressing my stomach while holding the bag. Finally, he placed it on the bed beside me.

"What’s this?" I asked.

"You called me, right?" he said without looking at me. He straightened, back facing me, and added, "I stopped by Shawarma Shack just in case."

I hid a gasp. He was concerned after all. He even brought food. I wanted to cry. But why not tell me earlier when I called?

He looked back over his shoulder and smirked. "Just so you know, you have to pay me back for that."

Ugh. Too soon.

I sat up a little to get a better look at him and smiled. "Thanks anyway, even though you’re late." I sneered.

He smirked again. "By the way, your mother called. She said something about a pre-something checkup. She scheduled it for the weekend and will email you the address."

I checked my email, and there it was. A map of Oakridge Town with small red dots marking locations and a bigger blue dot labeled Fleet Street.

Tom yawned, covering his mouth with one hand, stretching his arms, and bending his body side to side, loosening up.

"You are going there with me, right?" I asked.

He snickered. "In your dreams," he said as he stood up, taking off his jacket.

I puffed my cheeks in displeasure. "You’re the daddy. It’s your responsibility to go with me."

He shrugged. "Why don’t you invite Cameron instead?" he mumbled under his breath, but I heard him.

"What?" I raised an eyebrow, holding the shawarma in one hand.

"Jennifer said you were talking to him earlier," Tom said.

I couldn’t help but grin. Is this how he shows jealousy? Wait, is he jealous at all?

I stared at him with amusement. "What’s in it for you if I did talk to him? It didn’t mean anything." I waved my hand, gesturing denial, shrugging off the kiss we abruptly shared.

"Whatever. I’m going to sleep."

I gave a hesitant, "Okay," trying to suppress my uneasiness. He reached for the doorknob and suddenly froze.

My uneasiness turned to anxiety when he spoke. "Didn’t you use to date Cameron?"

I gulped. My heart pounded like a drum deep in my chest. He glanced over his shoulder, hand still on the knob. His jaw tightened.

"Didn’t you think that he might have gotten you pregnant?"

A lump rose in my throat, rough and hard to swallow. I choked slightly.

"Good night, Tom," I said, avoiding any answer that might slip out. He repeated himself, but I refused to give him a straight answer. I grabbed the blanket over my legs and pulled it over my upper body, rolling onto my side away from him.

"It’s possible!" he scowled.

I yanked the blanket a little higher to cover my head.

"I said goodnight," I mumbled, shutting my eyes.

For a moment, there was silence, but I could feel him still standing there, just watching me. My chest tightened with a mix of irritation, curiosity, and something I couldn’t name.

Then I heard his quiet voice, almost softer than before. "Samantha..."

I froze under the blanket, my heartbeat suddenly loud in my ears. He took a slow step closer.

"Don’t hide," he said gently. "I didn’t come here to fight. I just… wanted to know you’re okay."

My body stiffened. His words, so simple, felt heavier than any anger or frustration I had felt before. I peeked out from under the blanket, just enough to meet his eyes.

He didn’t smirk this time. He looked… concerned.

And for the first time that night, I felt a little bit of calm.