Chapter 6: Denial and Doubt (Tim POV)

I burst out of the library, the door banging shut behind me, and cut across the quad fast, sneakers pounding the grass. Lisa’s whisper—“I’m pregnant, Tim. You’re the dad”—slammed around in my head, her fake smile burned behind my eyes. I hit the hallway entrance, yanked the door open, and slipped inside, the cool air slapping my face. Lights buzzed overhead, flickering faint, and the smell of bleach hit me from the tiles. Lockers lined the walls, red and scratched, voices echoing from somewhere down the corridor. I leaned against one, cold metal on my back, and dropped my backpack at my feet, the thud loud in the quiet.

My hands went to my hair, tugged hard, the sting sharp on my scalp. “No way,” I muttered, low, just to myself. “No damn way.” I didn’t remember that night—nothing after that drink she shoved at me, dark and bitter, then waking up naked beside her. Pregnant? Impossible. I kicked the locker, a dull clang ringing out, and paced a few steps, sneakers scuffing the floor. She was lying—had to be. But her voice wouldn’t quit, soft and sure, digging in like a splinter. I stopped, pressed my forehead to the locker, and closed my eyes, breathing fast.

Footsteps echoed, coming closer. I straightened up, grabbed my backpack, and slung it over one shoulder. Didn’t want anyone seeing me like this, unraveling. Two guys turned the corner—Pete and Ryan, my friends since freshman year, both skinny, all elbows and knees. Pete adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his nose, and Ryan clutched a comic book, corners bent. Virgins, like me, never touched a girl, always joking about it over pizza or video games. They spotted me, waved, and shuffled over, sneakers squeaking on the tiles.

“Hey, Tim,” Pete said, stopping a couple feet away. “You okay?” Ryan nodded, flipping his comic shut, tucking it under his arm. I opened my mouth, then shut it, words stuck. Wanted to spill it—Lisa, the party, her bullshit claim—but fear locked my throat. What if they laughed? What if they didn’t believe me? I pulled a loose strand of hair behind my ear, shrugged instead. “Yeah, just tired,” I said, keeping it short.

Pete frowned, adjusted his glasses again. “You sure? You’re all jumpy.” Ryan tilted his head, eyes narrow, like he could see through me. Outside, through a window, a bird landed on the sill, pecked at nothing, then flew off fast. I shifted my weight, tapped my foot on the tile, quick and restless. “It’s nothing,” I muttered, but Lisa’s words pounded louder—pregnant, you’re the dad. My stomach twisted, sour and tight. I knew it wasn’t true, couldn’t be, but doubt crept in anyway, slimy and cold.

“You coming to class?” Ryan asked, stepping closer, comic crinkling as he adjusted his grip. I shook my head, unzipped my backpack, and pulled out my water bottle, just to do something with my hands. “Nah, skipping,” I said, unscrewing the cap. Took a sip, water cold on my tongue, and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. Pete raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push. “Alright, man, see you later then,” he said, and they turned, heading down the hall, voices fading as they argued about some superhero.

I capped the bottle, shoved it back in my bag, and slid down to sit against the locker, knees up. The hallway went quiet, just the hum of the lights and a faint laugh from far off. “She’s lying,” I whispered, barely a sound, testing it out. Had to be. I didn’t touch her, didn’t do anything—blackout didn’t mean yes. But her smile, that phone, those pictures she bragged about—they gnawed at me. What if she had something? What if she twisted it? I tapped my fingers on my knee, counting the beats—one, two, three—trying to calm down.

A janitor rolled by with a cart, wheels rattling, mop clanking against the side. He didn’t look at me, just kept going, disappearing around the corner. I picked up my phone, checked the time—1:35. Still too early to run home, but I couldn’t face class, not with her out there, waiting. Typed a text to Jack—“Lisa’s messing with me”—then deleted it fast, slid the phone away. He didn’t need this, not after yesterday, him watching me naked, that look in his eyes. My chest tightened, heat creeping up my neck just thinking about it.

I stood, brushed my jeans off, and paced again, five steps one way, five back. “Impossible,” I muttered louder, kicking the floor, a speck of dirt skittering away. She drugged me—I knew it, felt it in my gut—but proving it? Nothing. Her words festered, growing roots. Pregnant. Me, a dad? No chance. But doubt slid in anyway, whispering what if, what if. I stopped, leaned my shoulder on the locker, and stared at the ceiling, tiles yellowed and cracked.

Voices came again, closer this time. I glanced down the hall—Pete and Ryan, back already, probably forgot something. They waved, jogging over, Pete’s glasses slipping down his nose again. “Dude, you’re still here?” Ryan said, stopping short, comic tucked tight under his arm. I nodded, zipped my backpack shut, and slung it higher on my shoulder. “Yeah, just chilling,” I lied, forcing a half-smile. Wanted to tell them—Lisa’s crazy, she’s saying I got her pregnant—but my tongue stuck, heavy as lead.

“You sure you’re good?” Pete asked, pushing his glasses up, eyes squinting at me. I tugged my hair again, hard, the pull sharp enough to sting. “Yeah, fine,” I said, but my voice cracked, thin and shaky. Ryan tilted his head again, “You don’t look fine, man. What’s up?” His comic slipped, hit the floor with a soft slap, and he bent to grab it, muttering a curse. I opened my mouth, the words right there—She’s lying, she drugged me—but fear clamped down, a fist around my throat. Scared they’d think I’m nuts, scared they’d spread it, scared Lisa’d hear and twist it worse.

“Nothing,” I said, turning away, gripping my backpack straps tight. “Just need a minute.” Pete shrugged, “Alright, catch you later then,” and they headed off again, footsteps fading slow. I slid back down to the floor, elbows on my knees, and stared at my sneakers, laces frayed at the ends. “She’s full of shit,” I muttered, loud enough to hear it bounce off the lockers, but quiet enough no one else would. Had to believe that, had to hold it—but her whisper kept clawing, pregnant, you’re the dad, and that smile, locking me in.

A shadow moved at the hall’s end, someone stepping out from a classroom. I squinted—pink hair flashed, bright and wild, gone in a second. My breath stopped, heart slamming my ribs. Was it her? Watching me, waiting? I grabbed my phone again, thumb hovering over the screen, but didn’t move, didn’t call anyone. Couldn’t. Just sat there, frozen, her lie spinning louder, doubt sinking deeper, and that shadow—hers or not—hanging like a threat I couldn’t shake.