Page 1 of Pregnant By the Badboy

Chapter1

Mila

September, 2005

“Hey Mila, are you good with the new twist?” I turn and smile at Carly holding up my thumbs.

“It's great. I love how it spins towards the end.” My neck is sweating bullets and my ponytail swinging on the back of my neck is not helping. I reach into my bag and pull out my towel and wipe my head.

“Hey Mila looking good out there.” Coach yells from her office while I walk through the locker room. This is the best part of my day, cheerleading practice. This is the part of the day I know I am good at. I was built for this. This is where I get to be myself; enthusiastic, active and a mess. But now, with practice over I am heading to my least favorite part of my day. Home.

My family comes from the wealthy part of town. My father is a real estate developer and banker or something and has made a name for himself in this little town of Norwich, Vermont. Lincoln Pruitt carries a lot of weight and not always the good kind.

My mom is the opposite of him. Don’t get me wrong she loves the money and prestige and the wagging tongues, but she also doesn’t want to have to lift a finger to get it. To her, a self proclaimed southern belle, all she needs to do is look pretty and tell the maid where to pour the champagne. Yeah she is that type of woman.

I often sit in my room, staring out of the window at the world from high on the hill wondering what it is like for those not bound by social rules. How much fun do they have? It's ironic really because I am sure they wonder the same about us, those more fortunate. Well I would tell them it is lonely on top and filled with stress and falsehoods. I never know who really likes me or who likes me because of my family.

“Shoot.” I look at my watch and realize I am running a little late. My mom freaks out, texting and sending out police cruisers if I am not home by seven thirty on the dot. She seems to think that not living in Georgia where she grew up means there is a higher degree of likelihood I will be kidnapped and trafficked or used for ransom. Did I mention she is a complete drama queen?

Not bothering to shower, I run straight to my car cursing the dang rain that is now making me look like a wet cat. This is my favorite time of year though. I love fall. The leaves are turning colors and falling, the weather has a crisp chill to it, but smells fresh and like cinnamon and the weather. I love fall storms in September, but right now I could use a break. Thank goodness my hair is in a ponytail. Reaching for my towel I leave in the car, I try to dry my legs and face, not bothering with my hair. I turn on the heat, giving thanks for a working heater since I am still in my cheerleading outfit and pull out of the parking lot. “Crap.” I mumble under my breath. The rain is really coming down hard, so much so that I can barely see in front of me. My phone is buzzing beside me, reminding me my mother is a neurotic mess and I don’t have time for her right now.

I drive down the street taking the path I have taken everyday for the last four years, not worried when I feel something bump and then pop. My car begins to jerk and scream leaves my mouth. I try to calm myself as I fight to control the car that right now I am convinced is possessed. “Please not now.” I cry pulling it to the right.

It feels like forever before the car stops in front of what I think is a church. Leaning back, I clutch my chest trying to calm my palpitating heart and force myself to breathe. I know I have to get out and check to see what happened, but I really don’t want to. “Dang it.” I look in the backseat and find my umbrella. Getting out of the car I immediately see my tire has blown. I hang my head because I know I don’t have a spare and this is my fault. My best friend Mandy, her brother, told me weeks ago when I was last at their house that my tires were bald or some crazy word and that I should get new ones immediately before this very thing happened.

I continue to stare at the evidence of my lack of concentration. See, I consider myself smart, responsible and intuitive, except for during cheer season. As the co-captain for the second year in a row, my mind is always on formations, practice, motivational ideas, reformed uniforms and competitions. During this time of year which lasts until February, my mind is a one stop cheering shop and everything else is lost, forgotten and misplaced, including new tires apparently.

My mind goes back to the spare I should have held onto but I can’t find it in me to regret my decision. I gave it to the gardener last month who had a flat and needed it to make it home to his daughter Graciella’s ballerina recital. “Great. Now what?” I feel like I want to cry. Of course this would happen to me.

Here I am standing in the middle of the street like a moron, crying in the rain which should be ironic and feeling sorry for myself when I remember this little card my father gave me. Leaning into the car, I pull it from my purse and pray this really works. Going through the prompts, I practically want to do a somersault when the motor club says they will pick me up in twenty minutes.

Why is it when you're alone and scared time moves even slower? I swear twenty minutes is really an hour, but when I hear the tow truck coming I look at my clock and it has actually been eighteen. “Did you call for a tow?” A man asks, grabbing his chains.

“Yes.” I answer, my body shaking from the cold rain.

“Alright. I need to see your motor club card and for you to sign here.” He hands me a clipboard and momentarily I wonder if I should tell him I am not yet eighteen but decide against it. “Thank you young lady. We are going to take your car to Monroe Auto Shop. You can ride in the front of my truck.” If this were a horror movie I was watching, I would be yelling at the TV telling her to sit in the back, or telling her to find a weapon to hide in her sleeve, but right now, it is dark out, rainy and I am too dang tired. So, I nod, climb in and put my hand in my lap making sure to keep my legs covered.

“Thank you.” I say before climbing inside. Thankfully he is not very talkative and says nothing for the entire ride. The heat makes my body relax and it takes everything in me not to lay my head back and close my eyes. Surprisingly the shop is not that far and before I know it, we are pulling in.

“Why don't you get out here and you can go inside those doors. I will pull your car into the bay.” Nodding, I hop out, my hand consciously on the back of my skirt knowing it can fly up when I jump. I look around a moment, noticing there are no other cars but one Jeep in the lot and it looks really deserted. Now I am feeling like the dumb girl in a scary movie. “Uh hello.” I call out hoping like hell I didn't just enter a house of wax or something.

“Be right there.” I hear from somewhere in the back. My shoulders sag a bit so happy someone else is here. Waiting, I walk around the lobby area looking at the pictures of different cars on the wall. One of the walls has a man in the shop uniform with his arm around a younger version of himself.

“Can I help you little girl?” Turning like I just got caught doing something bad, my wet ponytail whips behind me and my already cold cheeks begin to heat up.

“Little girl?” Is what I choose to focus on, definitely not the fact that the moment I turn to face him my entire body begin to shake. I recognize him immediately as the younger guy in the picture, but it doesn't do him justice. This man, and I use that term deliberately because I can tell he is not to much older than me, but something about the way he is built, imagine a younger Cole Hauser but with almost as much mass, covered in grease in a gray jumpsuit, but with the greenest eyes you have ever seen.

“Well you definitely ain't no big girl.” he says, walking further into the room. My body is still coming unglued but something about him calling me little lites a fire under my sassy dome, as my momma calls it. Crossing my arms I tilt my head and give him my meanest look.

“I will have you know I will be eighteen in three days.” I smirk like I just told him off, but the smirk he gives me tells me I am way off base.

“That’s good to know, little one. Now what’s wrong with your car?” I swallow when he moves closer to me, my hands at my side twitching, itching to dig into his dirty hair. I blink a few times, shocked by my own reaction to him and unsure what to do so I just answer him.

“I blew a tire.” I can’t help licking my lips when the word ‘blew’ falls from my mouth. Inexplicably I have a vision of him blowing inside of me in all ways you can imagine and a loud gasp falls from my mouth. His eyes fire up like brake fluid on fire and his jaw clenches. He moves so quick I barely get a second to think before he has me against the wall, his arms braced on either side of me.

“Have you ever heard of Little Red Riding Hood, little girl?” Unable to say anything I simply nod my head, my body swaying slightly his scent, a mixture of sweat and something thick and suffocating filling my lungs and making me faint. “Then you should know better than to peek that tiny pink tongue out at the wolf and not expect to get eaten.” he growls into my ear. Sweet Jesus he is not touching me, but as his nose runs up the length of my neck, I can feel him like he is.

“I…” I try to talk but all that leaves my dry throat is a whine.

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