She couldn't cook. How was she meant to be a mom if she couldn't even cook? Quinn rested her back against the wall, a miserable expression on her face as she slid down the wall, ending up on the floor with a small bump. Wrapping her arms around her baby bump, she burst into tears, her hormones going crazy and she stared at the floor, sobbing. "I'm sorry, baby." She wailed at her stomach. "Mama's no good." She rubbed her stomach, tears rolling down her cheeks. The nineteen yearold glanced around the kitchen and she sighed, shakily. Sam wasn't going to be home for at least another hour and Quinn wanted so desperately to cook him dinner. Obviously not. She crawled over to the oven, carefully switching the knobs off. Gripping the edge of the counter, she slowly pulled herself upwards. She wandered over to the bathroom. She desperately needed a shower. She smelt like burnt pizza and sour milk. Not a nice combination at all.
When Sam got home, two hours later, he stepped inside and he wrinkled his nose at the smell coming out of the kitchen. Walking into the kitchen, his eyes widened at what he saw. Putting his bag down onto the table, he hesitated before going over to the oven. Pulling the door down carefully, he grimaced as he saw extremely burnt pizza. Grabbing an oven mitt, he carefully slid the trays out. Closing the oven, he grabbed a wooden spoon out of the drawer as he put the pizza trays onto the stove. He started to scrape the pizza off and once he got most of it off, he put it in the bin. He filled the sink with warm soapy water and slid the trays into it, wanting them to soak so he could clean it properly later. He picked up the bowl of creamy looking stuff and sniffed at it. It stunk so much that he nearly threw up. He quickly rushed over to the bin and poured it into the bin before shoving the bowl into the sink so it would also soak. Sam pulled the rubbish bag out of the bin and tied it shut before walking out of the kitchen, out of the apartment and down the path, shoving the bin bag into the bin. He quickly hurried back into the house, carefully washing his hands and sprayed air freshener around the kitchen before he finally took his shoes off, leaving him in a nice polo shirt and jeans. Now, where was Quinn? He made his way into the bedroom, carefully opening the door and he sighed, softly, to see an asleep Quinn on their bed. Her white tanktop had risen and rested above her stomach, and she was wearing a pair of comfy flannel PJ pants. Getting on the bed beside her, he shook her gently. "Quinn, wake up sweetheart." He said, softly, rubbing her stomach gently.
What woke Quinn up, wasn't somebody shaking her. It was the baby moving that made her eyes fly open. "It's me, baby." Sam spoke softly, and her eyes flickered to him, before pulling the tanktop down over her stomach. "I cleaned up the kitchen for you ." Sam said, gently, and Quinn burst into tears. "I can't cook." She cried. "I tried to make pizza, but it stuffed up and then the cupcake mixture..I don't even know what went wrong." She wailed. "I'm gonna be such a bad mom." She sobbed, burying her face into her pillow, shifting slightly in the bed. "Quinn, you are not going to be a bad mom. You will be brilliant." Sam soothed, gently moving her face from the pillow, wiping her tears away. "You'll get better at cooking. I'll teach you." He wiped more tears away, until she had finished crying. "R-R-Really?" She stammered, quietly, sniffling. "Yes. Now, what do you prefer? Chinese or Mexican?" Sam asked. "Mexican please. And make it extra cheesy." Quinn smiled weakly, reaching around Sam for the bedside table. Pulling open the first drawer, she pulled out a jar of money and a small decorated box of takeaway menus. "Which Mexican place do you want?" Quinn asked, pulling the lid of the box off and unscrewing the jar which was labelled takeaway money. "Bolero's?" Sam asked. "OOoh. I do like that place. And you know one of the guys that works there right?" Quinn asked, and Sam nodded. "I'll just tell him that my pregnant girlfriend wants extra cheese. He'll give you plenty." Sam teased and Quinn shoved him, playfully, before handing him the brightly coloured menu. "I don't know why we have a menu box, babe. Or a takeaway jar." He opened the menu. "It's called being organised. And the box is really pretty." Quinn giggled as Sam started to read the menu. "Babe, what does that say?" Sam asked, after a few minutes, pointing to something. "Enchilda." Quinn told him. Sam picked up his phone and quickly dialled the number. "Nate? Hey man, it's Sam! Yeah, Quinn had a craving." Sam spoke into the phone, laughing and Quinn shoved him, playfully. "Two servings of nachos, two tacos – make them extra cheesy. For Quinn. You know how she gets. And large enchilada. And a diet coke and a mineral water." Sam told him, before hanging up. "You know how she gets? Sam." Quinn shook her head, taking the menu back and putting it into the box, putting the box back and he shrugged. "Don't worry, babe. You've met him before. It's Nate, the one you met at the party?" Sam wrapped an arm around her waist. "Which party Quinn quirked her eyebrows. "The pool party one. Where I got drunk." Sam sighed and Quinn giggled. "You were so funny." She smiled cheekily. "It's gonna be about half an hour. Might wanna keep that jar handy." He taunted. She pouted and shifted on the bed, looking away. "Hey babe, don't pout." Sam frowned, moving closer to her. She turned back to him, giggling. "Hey, you tricked me!" He scowled. She giggled harder.
"How's your cheese with tacos?" Sam teased. "My tacos are lovely. And don't you mean tacos with cheese?" She asked, swallowing. "Babe, that is a lot of cheese." Sam pointed out. "I know but it's the baby, not me!" She whined softly.