Second Guessing and Tears Stressing

“Okay, so when Zacky gets here, what’s the first thing you’ll do?” Bobbi reviewed.

“Um, offer him a bottle of JD so when I tell him, he’s too drunk to know?” I asked, biting down on my lip. I tasted blood. Damnit, I bit down to hard. I grabbed a paper towel off the counter, and put it up to my lip. Bobbi glared at me while Vyra busted out laughing.

“Kor, do you want to feel better?”

“As in morning sickness? Then hand over whatever drug you’ve invented!” I exclaimed, sitting back.

“About lying to the father of your baby!” She snapped. I sighed, and nodded.

“Sorry. Okay, I’m focusing. I swear.” I said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. She glared and grabbed the toxic stick from me.

“You’re pregnant. You are not-fucking-smoking Korynn!” Bobbi shouted, as Vyra took my Marlboros, and threw them out the window.

“I’ma get fined for littering you—“

“Shut up, they landed in the trash can!” Vyra laughed. I narrowed my eyes at the both of them.

“You can’t expect me to quit cold turkey?” She threw something at me. Nicotine patches? Damn, she thought of everything.

“Put one on. We don’t expect you to,” She said. I glared again. “Now, we were talking about how you were going to tell Zacky…what have you got in mind?”

“Um, romantic dinner, and then all the sudden tell him?” I asked.

“Have you been watching 7th Heaven?” She asked curiously. I rolled my eyes.

“Just a shot in the dark,” I mumbled.

“Oh! What about, just after he settles in, and you’re sitting on the couch, you tell him?” I looked as Vyra suggested it. It wasn’t a bad idea.

“That’s…great,” Bobbi said slowly. “It just might work.” I nodded.

“When’s he get in?” Vyra asked.

“Tomorrow. He’s only here for three days though.” They nodded. And stood up.

“Well, good luck,” Vyra said, patting me on the back. I gaped at them.

“You’re just leaving?” I asked.

“Yep,” Bobbi nodded.

“You forgot our boyfriend’s were coming too!” Vyra shouted, running out, and down the steps.

“Brat,” I muttered.

“I heard that, biotch!” She shouted.

“ARGH! FIRST YOU MAKE ME QUIT SMOKING, THEN YOU MAKE ME TELL ZACKY, AND NOW YOU’RE CALLING ME A BITCH?!” I screamed in frustration.

“Stress isn’t good for the baby,” Bobbi warned.

“I. Don’t. Care!” I snapped. I calmed down. “Sorry. I do care. I’m just…”

“Stressed,” She finished. I nodded. “Look, just go get sleep. You’ll feel more confident in the morning.” I looked at the clock on the wall.

“Bobbi Jo, it’s 7 at night. Not one in the morning. I can’t fall asleep until then. I have really bad insomnia.”

“Oh yea…then go do something,” She shrugged. “But I gotta get home and clean.”

“Sorry for being a bitch,” I smiled.

“Apology accepted,” Vyra called. I glared at the door for a second.

“Thanks,” I finally nodded.

“And sorry for calling you a bitch. Which, technically I called you a biotch, not a bitch.”

“Oh, just shut up and get out of my apartment!” I pretended to growl.

“Rawwr,” Bobbi said, backing up out of the door, I just rolled my eyes and slammed the door. Now would be a great time for a cigarette. All the sudden I heard the downstairs apartment owners.

“JASON, ARE YOU SMOKING?” The mother, who was quite overprotective, shouted. I bit my lip. He must have said something. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THOSE AREN’T YOUR KIND OF CIGARETTES?” She screamed. He said something again. “YOU ARE FIFTEEN, AND I GO OUT AND FIND CIGARETTES, WHICH ARE QUITE FULL, IN THE TRASH CAN! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?” Oops. Vyra must’ve thrown them in their trash can….”WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’VE BEEN SMOKING FOR TWO YEARS NOW?!” I’m getting out of here. I grabbed my bag, and my cell phone, and ran down the steps.
Just as I was about to go out the door, Mrs. Johnson, the mother, stepped out, breathless. “You,” She sneered. “You’re the one who taught my son that smoking isn’t a sin.”

“A sin?” I snorted. “Shut the fuck up lady.” I walked out. Wow, that woman all too much reminds me of my mother. And believe me, that’s not a good thing.

xxx

“ZACKY!!” I shouted at the airport the next morning.

“KORYNN!” Syn shouted, tackling me before Zacky could reach me.

“Oomph! Ouch! You fucking asshole!” I snapped, as I rubbed my now sore, arm. He grinned.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. What’s that band-aid on your arm?” He asked. I stared at the stupid nicotine patch.

“It’s not a band-aid,” I said. “It’s a nicotine patch.”

“You’re quitting smoking?” He asked blankly. I nodded.

“Why?” Zacky asked. I stood up and hugged him.

“Story for another time. Now, do I get a kiss?” I changed the subject. He smiled, and kissed me. And then I felt it, two seconds later. “Ugh!” I ran to the bathroom, and threw up my breakfast. Pregnancy, my friends, is not fun. Two minutes later, I popped a breath mint, and walked out.

“What’s up?” Zacky asked as I walked out. “You hate my kisses that bad?”

“NO, I hate being p—“ I stopped myself. “Very sick,” I covered. He seemed convinced, and this time, I let him kiss me, his tongue gliding across my bottom lip, begging for entry, which I gladly granted. He kissed me hungrily, exploring every inch of my mouth. “Mm, Zacky, we’re in public. Let’s go.”

Two hours later, we were sitting on the couch at my apartment, me snuggled into him. “Zacky?”

“Yeah?” He asked, not looking from the TV.

“Can we talk?” I asked, turning the TV off.

“Sure,” HE shrugged.

“I…well…this is so hard to say….I…I’m pregnant.” I looked up, and braced myself for his reaction.