Chapter 5: The Trouble Bomb (Tim POV)

I stood there on the edge of the parking lot, Lisa’s words—pictures, tangled up, naked—ringing in my ears like a busted car horn. My sneakers scraped the asphalt as I turned sharp, heading for the library across the quad. Needed quiet, needed to think, away from her grin and that phone she waved like a loaded gun. The wind kicked up, tugging at my jacket, and I zipped it higher, hands jammed in my pockets. A couple birds flapped overhead, cawing loud, darting toward the trees. I kept my head down, steps quick, crunching over scattered leaves.

The library doors loomed ahead, glass smudged with fingerprints. I pushed one open, the hinge creaking soft, and stepped inside. Cool air hit me, mixed with that dusty book smell. Tables stretched out, half-empty, a few students hunched over laptops, typing steady. I swung my backpack off my shoulder, dropped it on a chair near the back, and pulled out a textbook—some history crap I hadn’t cracked all week. Sat down, flipped it open, but the words blurred. Lisa’s laugh from the lot kept bouncing in my skull, and Jack’s stare from yesterday—those jeans, that bulge—flickered right behind it. I rubbed my eyes, hard, then tugged a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to focus.

Pages rustled as I turned them, pretending to read. A girl two tables over coughed, sharp, and I glanced up—braids swinging as she bent back to her notes. Outside, through the big window, the quad looked gray, clouds thickening. I tapped my pencil on the table, a quick beat, then stopped when some guy in a hoodie shot me a look. Picked up my phone instead, checked the time—1:03. Still hours before I could bail home. I slid it back in my pocket, leaned my elbows on the book, and stared at the lines, willing them to sink in.

The door banged open, loud enough to make me jump. Heads lifted, a ripple of annoyance crossing the room. I didn’t need to turn around—her cherry gum snapped, sharp and fast, echoing off the shelves. Lisa. My stomach dropped, heavy as a brick. Footsteps clicked closer, boots on tile, and she slid into the chair next to me, not across, right up against my side. Her tray wasn’t there, just her, pink hair brushing my shoulder as she leaned in. I shoved my book an inch away, gripped the pencil tight, and kept my eyes on the page.

“Found you,” she said, voice low, teasing, like we were playing hide-and-seek. I didn’t look up, just flipped a page, the paper crinkling under my fingers. She popped her gum again, louder, and a guy at the next table muttered something, chair scraping as he shifted. “Thought you could ditch me out there,” she went on, nudging my arm with her elbow. I pulled away, bumped the table edge, and my pencil rolled off, clattering to the floor. She laughed, soft but mean, and bent to pick it up, holding it out like a prize.

“Give it,” I said, short, reaching for it. She yanked it back, twirling it between her fingers, nails painted black. “Not yet,” she teased, leaning closer, her knee pressing my thigh under the table. I jerked my leg away, hit the chair leg with a thud, and snatched the pencil from her hand. “Leave me alone, Lisa,” I muttered, shoving it in my pocket. She didn’t move, just sat there, chewing slow, watching me like a cat with a trapped mouse.

I turned back to my book, flipped another page, but my hands wouldn’t stay still. Tapped my foot under the table, quick and quiet, a habit when I’m cornered. “You’re no fun, Tim,” she said, voice dropping lower, husky now. “Running off like that after I told you about the pics. Bet you’re dying to see them.” She pulled her phone from her jacket, set it on the table, screen dark but glaring at me. I pushed my chair back an inch, the legs squeaking, and crossed my arms tight.

“I don’t care about your lies,” I said, keeping it low so the room wouldn’t hear. A spider crawled across the window frame, slow, legs ticking along the glass. I watched it instead of her, counting its steps—anything to block her out. She leaned in anyway, her breath warm on my ear, cherry gum snapping right by my face. “Not lies,” she said, soft but sharp. “Truth. You and me, all sweaty and close. Proof’s right here.” She tapped the phone, nail clicking on the case, and I flinched, eyes darting to it then away.

“Bullshit,” I snapped, louder than I meant. The girl with braids looked up again, frowning, then went back to her notes. I grabbed my backpack, slung it over one shoulder, and stood. “I’m out,” I said, stepping around the table. Needed air again, needed her gone. She didn’t get up, just stretched her legs out, boots kicking into my path. I stepped over them, clumsy, and headed for the door.

Her voice followed, loud enough to carry, “You’re in big trouble now, Tim.” I froze, hand on the door handle, the metal cold under my palm. Turned my head just enough to see her—still sitting, legs crossed, that fake smile stretched wide, locking me in place. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, and dropped her voice to a whisper, barely loud enough to hear but clear as a shout. “I’m pregnant, Tim. You’re the dad.”

My head spun, like the floor tilted under me. I pushed the door open, stumbled out, and let it swing shut behind me. The quad hit me again—wind sharp, leaves skittering across the path, a dog barking somewhere far off. I kicked the ground, dirt puffing up, and kept walking, fast, toward the trees. Pregnant. No way. I didn’t touch her, didn’t remember a damn thing after that drink. My hand went to my hair, tugged hard, the sting biting my scalp. Lies—she had to be lying—but that smile, that confidence, stuck like gum on my shoe.

I stopped by a bench, dropped my backpack at my feet, and pulled my phone out again. Checked the time—1:19. Too early, but I couldn’t go back in there. Typed a text to Jack, “Lisa’s crazy,” then deleted it, shoved the phone away. A guy with a skateboard rolled by, wheels rattling, glancing at me then off. I sank onto the bench, elbows on my knees, staring at the grass. Pictures, now this—pregnant. My chest tightened, panic creeping up my throat. I knew it wasn’t true, couldn’t be, but her voice wouldn’t quit, whispering it over and over.

She was out there, probably still grinning, that phone in her hand like a bomb waiting to blow. I picked up a stick from the ground, snapped it in half, the crack loud in the quiet. Tossed the pieces, watched them land in the dirt. Had to figure this out, had to stop her. But how? Her shadow was everywhere—party, bed, now here—and it was closing in fast.