Disclaimer: I don't own The Secret Life of the American Teenager or the title of this story, which was inspired by the song of the same name by Taylor Swift.
Author's note: This will probably be two or three chapters. I expect I'll finish this one first before continuing with We Can Try and They Will Never Suffocate Us, but I do promise they will be updated eventually. Just to warn you, there's a lot of dialogue in this story. Oh, and this is rated M because there's a lot of swearing. Better safe than sorry, right? As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!
Background information: This takes place in season one. As stated later in the story, Amy is about eight and a half months pregnant.
Full summary: With her due date fast approaching, fifteen-year-old Amy Juergens begins to question her true feelings for the two men in her life. Could she possibly just be playing it safe and not wanting to take a chance with the boy who broke her heart all those months ago at band camp? She's convinced herself up until this point that she hates him. Now, she's not so sure...
"He is sensible and so incredible, and all my single friends are jealous. He says everything I need to hear, and it's like I couldn't ask for anything better…"
The sound of Taylor Swift's soft, melodic voice is what rouses me from my sleep, and I heave a heavy sigh of agitation as I realize that I was woken by a ringtone, indicating that somebody is calling me. Yawning and rubbing my eyes, I blindly reach around my nightstand until my fingers close around my cellphone. "Hello?" I mumble, probably sounding weary and sluggish.
"Hi, Amy!" greets Ben. He sounds cheerful and hyper, the opposite of me.
My shoulders slouch upon hearing his voice, despite knowing it was him before I answered. I'm about to scold him for calling me so late, but when I check the time, I see that it's only eight o'clock. So instead of yelling at him, I merely reply, "Hi, Ben."
Oblivious to my fatigue, he asks, "So, what are you up to?"
"Nothing," I say, suppressing another sigh. "Do you need something?"
"Well, I'm actually standing at your front door right now, so I was wondering if you'd let me in," he chimes.
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. Just like that, my exhaustion is gone. "What! Ben, you can't just come over uninvited!" I exclaim crossly.
He reminds me of an innocent, wounded puppy-dog when he says, "But Amy, I was just trying to surprise you. I thought you might have wanted to hang out since it's a Friday night."
This time I do sigh. Ugh, sometimes I wonder why I ever took Ben back after the jackass stunt he pulled a couple months ago. He knows that today I was really stressed out and restless at school, and I distinctly recall telling him that I just wanted to curl up in bed and take a nap when I got home.
Even though I'm annoyed, I don't feel like arguing just yet. "Okay, Ben, I'll be down in a few seconds," I say in resignation, hanging up abruptly and cutting off his I-love-you.
One hand resting on my large stomach, I place the other hand on my bed and use it as support to get to my feet. I head out of my room and down the stairs, slowed down by my reluctance to answer the door and by the difficulty of simply moving.
"Mom, Dad, I'm going to hang out with Ben upstairs, okay?" I call, knowing they'd be able to hear me from the kitchen.
My mom's reproachful voice is quick to respond. "You should have told us he was coming over earlier, Amy!"
I roll my eyes. "I just found out myself," I answer bitterly.
My dad's voice calls out, "No funny business!"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Dad," I scoff. I know I shouldn't be acting so mean. It's not their fault that my stupid boyfriend woke me up to let me know of his stupid plans. But I'm irritable and restless now, ready to take my frustrations out on anybody who comes across my path.
I take a few deep breaths until I decide I'm ready to face Ben and then open the door. "Hi, Ben," I say to the tall, gangly boy in front of me.
He flashes me a grin. "I come bearing gifts!" he announces, holding up a DVD and a bag of popcorn.
"That's nice of you." A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Maybe I'm being too harsh on him. I mean, the gesture is pretty sweet of him.
Ben steps forward and bends down to kiss me. I pull away after a few seconds, however. For one, I don't really feel much of a spark these days; sometimes it even seems awkward. Secondly, he's been quite possessive and touchy-feely as of recently. Like when I try to have a conversation with Ricky about the baby at school, Ben will show up out of nowhere and sling an arm around my shoulders and give me a forceful kiss. Or when we're alone, he'll try to push me to do something further than just making out, despite the fact that he's well aware of my discomfort with anything remotely sexual.
And to be frank, I don't like it. It makes me feel like a piece of property, a prize to be won. It makes me feel like I can't do or say anything without him knowing or supervising. It makes me feel pressured to do stuff that I'm not ready to do.
"Let's go to the living room," I say stiffly, forcing myself to grab his hand and lead him there. I know I told my parents that we would be upstairs, but now that I think about it, I much rather be near my parents. That way, Ben is more likely to not pester me.
Unfortunately, luck doesn't seem to be on my side tonight.
Just as I sit down on the couch, my parents walk in, all dressed up like they're about to go out.
"Mom, Dad… going somewhere?" I ask. Please say no. Please say no.
"Your father and I are going to visit Mimsy," explains my mother. "And just so you know, Ashley is staying at a friend's house tonight."
Ugh, why does Ashley have to pick tonight to find a friend to hang out with?
My dad shoots Ben a stern look. "No funny business, you two!"
"Of course not, sir." Ben smiles, but I see the glint of excitement in his eyes.
Oh, Daddy, you would stay if you knew how he's been acting. But I know there's no use in pleading my parents to stay—that would look suspicious and piss off Ben—so I dejectedly wave goodbye to them.
And just like that, we're alone.
"Will you start the movie and take care of the popcorn?" I ask Ben. "I mean, I would help, but it's kind of awkward to move around at this stage…"
"Sure, no problem," he says. He pops in the DVD, hands me the remote, and walks off to the kitchen, but not before I notice the smug smirk etched in his features.
Something within me sinks, and I can't help but imagine somebody else's smug smirk and wish they were here instead. Butterflies flit about in my stomach at the mere thought, which I force away.
I'm not supposed to have these kinds of thoughts about Ricky Underwood. I mean, yeah, we've been getting along recently, and he is the father of my baby… but he took advantage of me. He broke my heart.
I can't even trust him… right?
I bite my lip, thinking deeply, but Ben jolts me out of my reverie as he returns, proclaiming, "I have the popcorn!"
He sits down next to me on the couch, so for the first time, I focus my attention on the movie.
"So what's the prognosis, Fertile Myrtle? Minus or plus?"
Oh, God. Out of all the movies in the freaking world, Ben picks Juno? Seriously? I actually find the movie hilarious and touching, but I don't really want to watch it right now… for multiple reasons.
I shift around in my seat, still feeling incredibly restless. I don't want to watch the movie. I don't want to talk to Ben (because I know he'll turn it into something else). I don't know what the hell to do, and for whatever reason, I am so damn fidgety that it's driving me crazy.
Huffing slightly, I grab the bowl of popcorn and start eating. At least it's something to do.
"You all right, Ames?" asks Ben, and I cringe.
I've only ever let one person call me that. I hate it when anybody else but him calls me that.
But I just shrug and mutter, "Fine. I'm perfectly fine."
Not bothering to question me further, Ben wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer to him. This only makes me more fidgety, which he takes no notice to since he's become engrossed in Juno MacGuff talking into a hamburger phone.
After awhile, though, Ben senses something is amiss when I'm not chuckling along with him. "What's wrong, Ames? Are you upset with me?"
Trying not to roll my eyes, I shake my head. "No, Ben, I'm not upset with you. I'm just not in the mood to watch this right now," I say.
I immediately wish I hadn't when I notice the glint of excitement return to Ben's eyes.
Before I know what's happening, Ben places the bowl of popcorn on the table in front of us and kisses me roughly. I don't respond at first, but I slowly begin to kiss him back; it helps when I close my eyes tight and picture that I'm kissing a certain somebody else instead. (I'm going to ignore how wrong that is for now.)
One of his hands, which have been tightly holding onto my waist in an almost painful manner, starts traveling upward, while the other slides down to rest on my thigh. I try to remove his hands from my body, but his grip is firm. And that's when I tense up and break off the kissing. "W-what-what are you doing?" I stammer, face flushed.
"Aw, come on, I'm just having some fun," he says with a lopsided grin.
"I-I-I don't want to do this anymore," I say as I try to move away from him, but he doesn't let me.
I feel my earlier anger returning. "Seriously, Ben, please stop," I grit through clenched teeth.
Ignoring me, Ben leans in to kiss me again. I push on his shoulders to let him know that I'm not joking around. He just grabs my wrists to stop me from moving away again.
That's when the panic sets in. How far does Ben plan on taking this? Why won't he let me go? I let out a small whimper and try to squirm desperately out of his crushing grip.
"Shh, Amy, just relax," murmurs Ben as he kisses his way down my neck.
"But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, and it's two A.M. and I'm cursing your name. You're so in love that you act insane, and that's the way I loved you…"
I'm about to scream at him to get off (with a few vulgarities thrown in, of course) when the sound of Taylor Swift's voice once more starts singing, which startles us both. He loosens his grip on my wrists, and I take the advantage to jump up from the couch. I whip out my cell phone and glance down at the caller ID, even though I knew who it was the moment the verse came on.
"Who's that?" Ben asks nonchalantly, though sounding a bit annoyed that he was interrupted.
"Nobody," I hiss, scowling at him and declining the call. I slip the phone back into my pocket.
He arches an eyebrow, but I don't let him pry. "I think you should be leaving now," I tell him coldly.
"What? Why?" Ben has the audacity to look at me, seemingly confused and hurt.
I'm feeling anxious and restless and furious and to add to all of that, I've begun to have serious pain in my stomach that comes and goes. (I've been having the pains all day, actually. They weren't as bad as they are now, but they were still uncomfortable, so that's one of the reasons why I went right to sleep when I got home—not to mention the fact that I was worn out.) I'm so not in the mood to deal with Ben right now. I just want to throw back my head and scream.
"Just leave, Ben," I snap. "I'm not asking you. I am telling you to leave my house!"
"Oh, come on, Amy! I told you that I just wanted to have a little fun!" he protests indignantly.
I narrow my eyes. "And I told you that I didn't want to!" I retort, voice rising.
And then my phone goes off again.
"But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, and it's two A.M. and I'm cursing your name. You're so in love that you act insane, and that's the way I loved you…"
"I should take this," I mutter as I pull out my phone.
"No, Amy, we're trying to have a discussion," growls Ben.
I glare at him and snarl, "Good thing you can't tell me what to do!" Nonetheless, I decline the call, albeit feeling a bit guilty because I had recently made a promise to the caller that I would always pick up.
Ben stands up from the couch. "I don't get why you've been so uptight lately!" he says with a derisive snort.
"Excuse me for not wanting to jump your bones," I sneer.
A murderous look flashes across for his face, and for a second I swear he's contemplating on whether or not to hit me.
"But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, and it's two A.M. and I'm cursing your name. You're so in love that you act insane, and that's the way I loved you…"
Thank you, Taylor Swift, for temporarily coming to my rescue.
"WHO THE HELL IS THAT!" roars Ben.
"None of your damn business!" I stand up with a groan, trying to disregard the dull throb in my lower back. I stalk past him, phone in hand. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to answer this."
As I brush by Ben, his hand closes around my wrist and yanks me back to him. Just as I hit the 'Accept' button, he smacks the phone from my grip so that it falls to the floor. "Ben, what the hell is your problem? You're being such an asshole!" I seethe, jerking away.
"And you're a little bitch!" he says mercilessly.
"Ben… why are you being like this?" Tears fill my eyes. (Damn hormones.) This isn't the Ben that I know and care about.
He throws his arms up in the air out of frustration. "Well, why won't you go further with me? I'm in love with you, damnit, but you're a fucking tease and I'm sick of it!"
I wrap my arms around myself, biting back a sob. I feel like I'm going to be sick, and not just because the on-and-off pains are lasting longer and getting more intense. "Seriously, Ben?" I cry. "I'm eight and a half months pregnant! I've made it clear to you multiple times that I'm not looking for a sexual relationship. If that's what you're looking for, you might as well leave!"
Ben shakes his head. "I don't want to leave you. I just want to be with the woman I love."
I choke out a bitter laugh. "Oh, please, Ben, let's face it. You don't love me. I think you might have loved me at one point, but you certainly don't anymore."
In that moment, I know what I have to do. It's taken me awhile, but now I see the light. I've come to terms with what needs to be done.
I take a deep breath, and then I look him square in the eye. "It's over, Ben… Hell, I knew it was over a long time ago. I want to thank you for being a sweet, supportive guy throughout my pregnancy… but we both know you're not that guy anymore. We've both changed and grown apart... And besides, it wouldn't have worked out anyway."
His face hardens. He stares at me, unblinking. After what seems like a lifetime, he utters two words.
"That's bullshit."
Only two words, but his voice is so cold and so full of hatred that it sends shivers down my spine.
Ben takes a single step towards me. "That's such fucking bullshit, Amy, and you know it. Why wouldn't it have worked out, huh? Why? Oh, don't look at me like some innocent little angel. For God's sake, I'll tell you why. Because you're in love with Ricky. Not me."
I flinch. "Ben, th-th-this has n-n-nothing to do with R-Ricky," I say, blushing and stumbling over my words.
"You stutter when you lie," he says icily.
"Look, Ben, just leave Ricky out of this, okay?" I counter. "I'm breaking up with you because you're not the same guy I fell for!"
He scoffs. "How can I leave Ricky out of this? Ricky has everything to do with this!" he says, angry, voice steadily rising. "None of this would be happening in the first place if you hadn't been such a slut and slept with Ricky two seconds after meeting him!"
Gasping, I stagger backwards, feeling as if I've just been slapped across the face. Tears spill out of my eyes and onto my cheeks, and I don't bother to wipe them away. All I can do is stare at Ben in disbelief, unable to comprehend what's going on.
Ben, however, just continues his rampage. "You have no problem opening your legs up for that stupid man-whore, and yet you won't even let me go to second base!" he shouts. "Why is that, Amy? How can you have sex with somebody you barely know, huh? How can you just throw away your virginity? And how can you be so thoughtless? You didn't even bother to make sure the dumbass wore a condom! This is all your fault, Amy."
Why is he saying all of this? Why is he trying to make me feel guilty for something I can't change? He knows how insecure and idiotic I feel whenever I think about band camp!
Then again, the old Ben would never have said any of the stuff this new Ben said tonight.
I suddenly clutch my stomach as another wave of pain hits, and I suppress a groan. "Ben… just leave," I whimper. Still reeling from his verbal assault, my eyes water with a fresh surge of tears.
"No, Amy, we're going to work this out," says Ben demandingly.
The pain is becoming unbearable. I sink back down to the couch, still holding my stomach. "Ben, please leave," I beg him. I don't have the strength to enforce my words and kick him out; we both know that.
With a complete disregard to my obvious distress, Ben shakes his head. His jaw is clenched, and a determined look gleams in his cold brown eyes. "No."
His resistance is pissing me off. The pain is overwhelming; I cannot handle all of his stupid drama right now. Wearily, I open my mouth to warn him one last time.
"Get the hell out of here right now before I bash your face in, you scumbag."
My eyes widen in shock as I gaze up at the new figure that's standing in front of the couch, making sure that Ben can't get to me.
Ricky.