Breathe With Me (The Breathe Series Book 3) (12 page)

Looking back towards the door, which luckily Abby shut behind her, the muffled voices of my friends rise into the air and let me know that I am not dreaming. I am not lying on that old hideaway bed in the dark, praying for it to just be over; I am here. I’m in the present, grown up, in control of what happens to me and no longer a measly little girl that cannot muster up the courage to scream
stop
.

Lifting my chin and rising away from the headboard, those thoughts settle into my soul, filling me with a renewed strength and confidence. I can do this; I can move past it all. I relax my shoulder and slowly slip my feet out from under the covers until they are barely dangling above the floor. A creak startles me and nearly has me flinging the covers over my head and hiding like a little kid afraid of the dark. I look up and see Chris peek in.

“Knock, knock…ok if I come in?” he asks in a quiet tone, while pushing the door open further, not even waiting for a response.

Do I say no? Does it even matter?
I want to tell him to go away; I want everyone to go away, but the last thing I want is a cabin full of people or any type of witnesses to my insanity. Knowing Chris has always been gentle and kind towards me, I give in and nod. Still uncomfortable, I slide my feet back up to the bed and sink my body against the security of the headboard as if the hard sturdy surface can ground me or lend me strength.

Chris marches across the floor with a pained expression while fidgeting his hands together in front of him as if he has a coin or marble that he is twirling around.

“Listen, Piper…” He takes a seat at the edge of the bed, placing his hand near my feet, but still keeping them to himself. I release a gulp of air I was holding back and go to work calming my heart with deep even breaths. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I should have never come in here and just got in your bed. I mean, I just thought…well, I just didn’t think. I mean…” He searches my face.

I quickly shake my head to lose the obvious resting bitch face that has surely already masked every feature of my expression right down to a kinked up lip, dipped down brows and squinted eyes. Abby has made me aware of this look on more than one occasion, especially when Evan is around. Sympathizing with the remorse in his voice, I stop him, raising my hand with my sheet clasped into a ball.

“It’s ok. No apology necessary.” I smile, feeling the panic and fear I felt only minutes ago instantly dissolve.

“Really?” he smiles back, a fun, easy grin that highlights the contours of his square jawline and almond shaped blue eyes. “Ok, cool…” he sighs and immediately I’m on edge again.

“Wait…I mean it’s ok now, not that it’s ok to…”

“Piper, I know…I know…” he chuckles. “I know what you meant. Don’t worry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I know I was in the wrong. That should be something we discuss, not just me hopping in and thinking I can…” he stops, appearing almost embarrassed.

I have no intentions of telling him about my past, however, it’s not fair to lead him on. We’ve seen each other off and on for nearly two months now.

Wouldn’t I have some sort of desire for intimacy from him if I was ever going to want him like that?
I never have that with him; I’ve never felt it or had it. Well, I haven’t since Evan.

Since him, it’s like that part of me is dead; shifted back to when I was twelve and withdrawn from any physical contact of any sort, even a hug from my own parents. After what Trent did, I changed. Sure, I was young and I guess that is why Mom and Dad didn’t question my moodiness or defiance to any affection and love. They always made the snarky comment, ‘that’s teenagers these days’, when I would pull away or run to my room, so that’s how I let myself grow up; absent and absolutely content without love, except with Evan. He filled that void in my heart for a few years.

“Yeah…” I clear my throat, trying to break through the tension in the room. “Well, it happened and it’s over now.” My stomach clinches on my words, sounding way too familiar as I remember back to what Mom said after she confirmed with Trent that what I said was true…

“Well, it’s water under the bridge now. It happened…and it’s over.” Her eyes burned through me as if she was looking past me or possibly trying not to feel a thing in that moment. But even with the absence of any emotions, her words rip right through me. “All you can do is move on and get over it. There is no reason to drag your cousin’s name through the mud and make him look like some dirty old pedophile. Besides, Piper, with all those bikinis you wear around the lake, that was bound to happen; it just gives boys the wrong impression, so you should have known better.”

I shake away those damaging words that were said to me; one of the very last conversations we had before she made the choice to choose him over Dad and I.

Working to escape those memories, I redirect the topic, “Actually maybe it’s good that it happened. I mean, not good, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

Chris looks at me nervously, his hands in his lap, holding tightly to one another as he rubs his thumb across his knuckle over and over again until I think he may grind the skin off. Remorse at what I want to say settles in the pit of my stomach and threatens to make me stop. I’ve breached this conversation a handful of times since our first date back in November, yet I chicken out every single time; not this time. He remains silent, dipping his chin and lifting his brows expectantly.

Just do it, Piper.

I open my mouth, but nothing happens. Nudging my body forward just a bit, I force out an impulsive blurt that suddenly makes the room seem smaller and much more quiet than before.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be seeing each other.” It comes out more abrasive than I had planned, so I promptly start back pedaling “What I meant was, do you see this going anywhere?” Gritting my teeth, dread creeps over me. My insides rebel against this conversation as knots form in my stomach and a light thumping begins in my head; it could easily be from my blackout, or perhaps an oncoming headache that is bound to torment me through the night.

His eyebrows fall and his sight drops to the bed, as if he is searching for the answer to my question through the ruffled up sheets and blanket.

“I guess it doesn’t seem to be, but I don’t know. I just don’t think about it like that. I figured we’d take it day-by-day and see where it goes. I didn’t really expect anything. I like you and I gathered you liked me; that’s about as far as I looked into it.”

He looks back up, directly at me like he is cuing me that it is my turn to speak, only I have no clue how to follow up. He has a point; it’s not like I was looking ahead to whether I’d marry this guy or anything like that, but I don’t think my argument of where this is going was the correct phrase to go with.
Why am I such a chicken?

“Oh, I do like you,” I spit out, correcting him quickly.
Ok, I just need to be blunt and put it out there.
“I just don’t see it going anywhere myself.” His expression doesn’t change, but I’m sure the panic is showing on mine. I open my mouth to elaborate; to maybe change the harshness of my words, but he beats me to it.

Reaching over the bundle of sheets I still have draped over my body and wedged in my fist, he drops his palm onto mine, keeping his touch light and friendly.

“It’s ok. I understand. I know you’re kind of closed off, which at first I thought was a breath of fresh air; finally, a girl that doesn’t go on about her ex-boyfriend.” He chuckles and removes his hand, pulling it back to his lap, now free of any nervous fidgeting. “But then I realized that maybe you just had a bad experience or possibly weren’t necessarily over someone?” he words it as a question, trailing off with his eyebrows crinkling the skin on his forehead as if he’s waiting for me to take over.

I have no idea what to say; I am definitely not going to dive into why I don’t talk about myself. Actually, I never really gave it much thought, but I guess I don’t ever jump into the, ‘this one time’ conversations. Come to think of it, I never really say much; I listen and laugh at what everyone else is saying, but I rarely ever take the stage. This is probably why I’ve always been more comfortable on double dates rather than facing it all by myself. In the short amount of time since Chris asked me out we have been alone twice, and that includes now. I usually don’t trust being alone with guys, no matter the circumstances. Darting off into the woods with Tyler this past summer was the most daring I’ve ever been and that time was abruptly interrupted with Evan walking up all pissed off. I’m not sure he’ll ever know how much I appreciated his intrusion even though I played it off being pissy about it.

“Listen, it’s fine…I just hope I didn’t screw this up by being an asshole and trying to rush things.”

My eyes stretch wide open. “Oh no. It’s nothing like that. I…well…I ummm…” I stare at him, unable to say what I’m thinking;
yes, I do have a bad experience from my past that I’d rather not relive by talking about it and yes, I’m not over someone.
I gasp at that revelation as Chris speaks up again, finishing our conversation before I can.

“It’s ok. I don’t expect for you to talk about whatever you hold back; I get it and I completely understand what you’re saying about it not going anywhere. Most of the time we’re together it does feel more like we’re just friends rather than anything romantic. I try not to push too hard to get past that, but I guess I got a little over eager tonight. That’s my fault and again I am sorry.” He takes a deep breath and stares me down. “So where do we go from here?”

Squirming around uneasily, I shift my hips to settle back against the headboard, feeling a bit more distance may lessen the tension that question brings over me. I’ve never really done this before. I have always steered clear of relationships and romance since Evan. I was barely able to drive the last time I crossed this bridge.

Slowly I lift my shoulders, arching them up on an I-don’t-know-too-scared-to-say-anything shrug. My head throbs, no doubt from angling my brows into a frown for most of this conversation with my lips pressed together, zipped tight and unable to answer.

He gives me a light-hearted smile and all my worries dissolve. “Friends?”

My chest raises and shoulders drop, as I release a deep sigh and smile. “Yeah, friends.”

We continue talking, milling over class schedules for next semester, Christmas dinner, and all that I have to do which probably bores the hell out of him, and other minute topics that keeps the mood enjoyable. He leads the subject into holidays as a child and as much as I try to hang onto every word and laugh on cue, my thoughts wander off to earlier tonight.

Evan’s face surfaces in my mind, his brown hair all tousled about as if he had run his hands through it a million times like he always used to. I picture his hazel eyes tinted to match the lake as it laps around the boat dock and his jaw framed in a five o’clock shadow that I only just noticed for the first time tonight. We were only kids when I last touched that face and at that time, all he did was marvel over the few hairs that had cropped up over his chest, let alone a face full of whiskers.

I snicker at that memory, quickly clearing my throat so Chris doesn’t think I’m not paying attention, but it’s no use; his face comes back into full view and I can’t get that thought out of my head.

Yes, I’m not over someone.

It’s been so long since I’ve thought of him in anything other than anger, yet here he was, swooping to my rescue; something that came so natural to him when we were younger. He was there like not a day had gone by, saying the same words he had always whispered to me when I’d fall into darkness.
Breathe with me.
On that, tiny fragments of a wall I have built up around my heart slowly start to chip away, softening the structure and creating a hole wide enough to let light in again; to feel again. A doorway to open my heart after years of having it closed up and sealed off.
Evan.

“OK, SO THE WORKING IN
silence suits me just fine ordinarily, but it’s not like I haven’t seen you seriously pissed before. You going to tell me what’s going on or just keep slamming every tool down like you’re throwing some kind of toddler sized tantrum?”