First of all, I'm sorry about how long it's taken to get this part up.

Now, to re-cap what's happened: Tom went back home and left Lyla no real answers as to why he just uped and left. Lyla searched the internet for info on teen pregnancy and then recieved a phone call from Tom. They arrange for tom to come round.

For the last chapter, go here.

Thanks.

Lyla. Part 16.

I answered the door in my nightdress, not bothered to change out of its comfort. Tom walked in slowly, closing the stained glass door behind him.

“You alright?” I asked simply before leading him into the living room.

“Yeah, you?”

I nodded and folded my bare arms. It was cool in the living room, the light had not quite found its way in yet and what little breeze there was slithered in through the open patio doors.

Tom reached out his left hand, palm up, towards me. I looked into his eyes, trying to tell what he was thinking. He took a step closer to me and I took his outstretched hand in mine, feeling its softness and warmth. He drew me closer until I was nestled against him, my cheek pressed upon his hard chest. He took my face in both hands and leant down, his eyes closing just as our lips met. I closed my own eyes and let him kiss me deeply, my worries and thoughts melting away, my hands wondering into his hair. When we broke apart he bent down and kissed my abdomen, then rested his head gently against it and closed his eyes. I enjoyed standing there with Tom wrapped around my waist, his obvious sign of affection brightening my spirits.

“I love you,” he said huskily as he stood up. “And the bump.”

I smiled and then caught myself, realising how over affectionate Tom was being.

“I love you too.” I paused. “But you need to tell me what it is.”

Tom’s face rearranged itself into slight confusion, one eyebrow cocked, his smile gone. “What what is?”

“What is it that made you rush over here? What is it that made you leave here, without any sort of decent explanation? And don’t give me any crap,” I warned.

Tom sighed and reached into the back pocket of his faded jeans, to bring forward a slightly crumpled little white envelope that had been folded in half. He handed it to me silently and proceeded to sit down on the sofa.

I watched him lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees and run his fingers through his already slightly messy hair.

I looked at the envelope, noticing the official seeming stamp on the top right hand corner next to the Queen’s head. I glanced back at Tom, but he had now shut his eyes. I sat down before pulling out the letter.

The words rushed through my mind, formal and polite. They seemed to lose most of their meaning, after all, they were only words. What I focused on most were the emotions zipping straight from my head to my stomach. This was all too unexpected and sudden; I could hardly process any of it. Yet, the only thing that I could think to say to the boy sat across the room from me was how happy I was for him.

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to.” He was peering at me, his fringe nearly covering his bright eyes. He really did need a haircut. I turned my attention back to the starched white paper on my lap. I read the first sentence again, taking it in more slowly than before. ‘It is with great pleasure that we can inform you of your acceptance into Wellbrooke College.’

I walked over to Tom, still clutching the letter, a sad smile on my lips. I sat down heavily next to him and he gently rested his head on my shoulder, his eyes closed again. He seemed so tired and fed up. Looking at him made me wonder what happened to the sweet, happy-go-lucky guy that I knew last summer. We had changed so much and it was that thought that made me say, “You should go.”

Tom turned to face me properly, his eyes darting around my face, searching for the joke or the sarcasm that he had missed.

We were silent for a while; both of us trying to figure out what this all meant.

I knew that I had said the right thing. That college meant a lot to Tom – it was the start of his career. Who was I to hold him back? He had a dream, something which I never had, and he was trying to make it come true. Unfortunately, college applications had slipped my mind, pushed out by swollen bellies and motherly worries. Tom’s ambitions had faded from my memory too. But the dust from everything forgotten was rising up to meet me again.

“Lyla, going to college at Wellbrooke means an hour commute. You know it’s not exactly down the road,” he paused to sigh, deflated. “I won’t be able to come down except on weekends. How on Earth am I ever going to look after you if all I see of you and the baby is a couple of hours on a Sunday?”

I had to stand up again, I couldn’t seem to control my feet and my head was fuzzy.

“This isn’t about me or the baby. Tom, think of it like this. If you don’t go to Wellbrooke you might not get all the knowledge and opportunities you need to get a good career. If you don’t get a good start job-wise you’re gonna be stuck.” I tried to think of a nice way to put my next thought. “And what happens if something goes wrong between me and you? You’ve sabotaged an excellent college place for no reason at all-”

“Oh, Lyla…”

“Tom, it’s true! You don’t know where we’re gonna be in two, ten, thirty years from now! You need something to fall back on.”

I sat back down, my jitters numbed by the truth that I had just accessed.

“I’ll be at college on November 25th. I might miss-”

“You won’t miss anything, I promise. It’s not as complicated as you think, honey. It’s gonna be fine.” I could hear my own confident words, none of them able to console myself.

Tom drew me into a hug, his cheek against mine. “If you think we can make this work then so do I.”

“I hope it will work,” was all I could reply.

Tom suddenly pulled away, his signature half-smile brightening his face. “Let’s go out. We hardly spend anytime out in the real world with our friends anymore. I’ll call Cal now and see what he’s up to. It would be great if-”

“Tom.”

He stopped smiling at my interruption, his hand poised over his pocket, ready to get his phone out.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to do ‘normal’ stuff. I mean, with everything that’s going on and well, it’s not easy to do teenage stuff when you’re walkin’ around like a bloated penguin.”

Tom shook off what I said and started dialling Cal’s number. “When will you be ready, Lyla? When you’re about to give birth? When you’re running around after a two month old?” His tone hit me heavily and I heard Cal’s voice respond on the line. Watching me, Tom left the room to talk to our friend.

I walked over to the bookcase at the other end of the living room and picked up the silver photo frame from the middle shelf. I blew off the little dust that had settled over it since the last time mum had cleaned and ran my finger down the smooth edge of the frame. My moist hands left finger prints of condensation on the silver. The photo was a snap shot of my dad with four of his back when he was eighteen. They all wore football shirts and they sported the same bad seventies hair-do. The five of them were smiling gawkily at the camera.

Perhaps I was too stuck on the future, too worried. I needed to start living for today. Tom was absolutely right – when would I be ready? Never, maybe. But I had to at least try.

I placed the frame back onto the shelf and glanced out the patio doors. A single bird danced across the grass and flew off into the blue sky.

I turned on my heel and went to get changed.