Reason to Breathe (Breathing 1)

“Want to watch a movie?” Evan offered while we sat in the kitchen, eating one of his creations for dinner.

“You know I’ll fall asleep.”

“I don’t mind,” he smiled.

“Where do you watch movies?” I inquired, realizing the only televisions I’d seen were in the barn and in his room.

“My room.”

A sudden streak of panic made me more alert than I’d been all day. I tried to appear unaffected by his response, but I was hyperventilating on the inside.

“Do you play the piano?” I asked, trying to think of something to do besides go to his room.

“A little,” he admitted slowly, not expecting the question.

“Will you play for me?”

Evan’s cheeks flushed, making me smile. It was something I didn’t see very often.

“Now you have to,” I taunted after seeing how uncomfortable my request made him.

“I’ll try,” he said with a deep breath.

After we - or I should say, Evan, since he wouldn’t let me help - cleaned up, I followed him to the piano. Evan sat on the bench and I scooted in next to him. He looked at me hesitantly and poised himself to play. I was truly excited to witness another one of his talents. Before he pressed the keys under his fingers, he looked at me again and shook his head.

“No, sorry - can’t do it.”

“What?!” I exclaimed disapprovingly. “You have to.”

“No.” He shook his head again, “I can’t. Let’s go listen to people who actually know what they’re doing.”

Without giving me a second to resist, Evan scooped me up in his arms and headed for the stairs.

“Evan, you really don’t have to carry me.” Being held sent a rush of color to my cheeks. And knowing that he was carrying me to his bedroom didn’t help cool them.

“It’ll take too long for you to hop up the stairs,” he countered.

He nudged the door open with his shoulder and gently laid me on the bed. I quickly pushed myself up to sit, my pulse beating a thousand miles a minute. Evan selected a song with a catchy beat. A distinct voice, singing about being alone with a girl. He turned down the volume so that we could talk.

“I have to ask you something,” Evan confessed nervously, sitting next to me on the bed, “and I know you’re not going to like talking about it.”

I remained still, already not liking it.

“When Sara said that ‘she’s paying attention again,’ was she right?” After a moment of silence, he added, “And please don’t lie.”

I looked from his desperate eyes to my lap, where I dug my fingernails into my thumb.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t understand her enough to even begin to know what provokes her. But I’m not worried, and I don’t want you and Sara to be either.”

I met his eyes and pressed my lips into the slightest smile, trying to comfort him. It didn’t relieve his troubled expression.

“I was serious about leaving with you.”

I smiled wider.

“You know that, right?” he confirmed again, more adamantly. “Just tell me, and we’ll leave.”

“It’s not going to come to that,” I assured him, still smiling at his commitment to rescuing me. “I can get through this, as long as you promise not to leave again.”

“I promise,” he vowed and leaned in to kiss me.

I surprised him when I immediately asked a question after his lips separated from mine, not giving us the option to get carried away. He asked me to repeat it, obviously not prepared to talk. I was determined not to give in to the craving. I was going to be in control… or asleep.

“Emma,” Evan whispered in my ear. My cheeks tightened as I smiled at the tickling of his fingers along my neck. “You can stay in here if you want, or you can sleep in the guestroom.”

My eyes shot open. Evan was looking down at me as I lay on his chest with my arm casually draped across him. I sat up and looked around the dark room. The only source of light was from the television airing a late night talk show.

“Um,” I responded, shaking off the haze of sleep, “the guestroom is fine.”

“I’ll get your bag and crutches,” he offered.

“I don’t need the crutches. I think I can put some weight on it.”

He examined me skeptically.

“Honestly, I think it’s feeling better.”

Evan disappeared down the stairs, after pointing out a door down the long corridor that led to the guestroom. In his absence, I limped to the door, slowly putting more weight on my injured leg. It was still sore but definitely better.

I opened the door to reveal a delicately decorated room adorned with several paintings of pink, yellow and blue flowers. I recognized Vivian’s influence in the white duvet with pink roses embroidered around the edges. The cream colored walls brightened the space, in complete contrast to Evan’s dark room.

“This okay?” Evan confirmed from behind me.

“Yeah,” I replied, limping over to sit on the edge of the bed.

Evan set my bag on the floor and hesitated.

“Um, good night.” I wasn’t sure what I should have said, but I don’t think that was what he was expecting.

“Oh, yeah. Good night.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips and walked out the door.

I collapsed onto my back with my arms spread beside me, releasing an aching sigh. I did the right thing, right? I should be sleeping in here, not in his room. After prepping for bed in the private bathroom, I slipped under the world’s softest sheets and shut off the lamp on the white pedestal table.

Eyes, please close.

Willing myself to sleep was not working. I stared into the dark, fighting the desire to go to him. The beating in my chest was loud and steady – I could feel it in my throat. I needed to fall asleep - or at least turn over so I wasn’t staring at the door any longer.

“Em? You awake?” Evan whispered. I couldn’t help but smile when I turned over to find his head peering through the crack of the door.

He smiled back. “Knowing you were right down the hall was way too hard. I couldn’t do it,” Evan declared, sliding under the covers next to me. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I smiled wider.

“How’s your knee?” he asked with his head on the pillow next to mine.

“You did not come in here to ask me about my knee,” I accused.

He shook his head with a smirk and pulled me toward him. Although his lips were familiar to me, I still lost my breath when we connected. I became entranced by their slow soft passes over mine. My mouth parted to his advances with a soft breath. His hands slipped under my tank top, along my back. He stirred a warm tingling within me when he delicately traced his fingers along my stomach. I released a quick breath and pulled him closer - then winced as my knee hit his.

“Are you okay?” he questioned, pulling away – too far away.

“I’m okay,” I whispered. He didn’t move. “I promise - I’m fine.”

Reluctantly, Evan moved closer until we were touching again. I kept my right leg on the bed behind my left, to protect us from another painful interruption. I was easily lost in his warmth again. I slid my hands under his shirt, running my fingers along the smooth curves of his chest and down to his waist. He inhaled quickly. He reached around and pulled his shirt over his head. My heart stopped. I breathlessly observed the silhouette of his defined, lean muscles in the dark and bit my lip. He leaned in to drag his parted lips along my neck.

When I thought we’d stop, we didn’t. There wasn’t a warning in my head urging me to slow down. All I could hear was our quick breaths. All I could feel was his touch on my heated skin. My head spun, and my pulse quickened; eventually releasing a moan I didn’t know I had in my depths. Our discovery of each other left my chest rising with long, drawn breaths. There wasn’t a quick retreat but a slow and gradual withdrawal as his arms settled around my waist, and I nuzzled into his neck, brushing it softly with my lips.

“How’s your knee?” he whispered, kissing the top of my head.

I’d completely forgotten about my knee, but now I recognized the throbbing that kept pace with my heart.

“I’ll be okay,” I assured him.

“I’m going to get you some ice,” he insisted, moving away from me. I instantly missed the warmth of his body, watching him slide his shirt over his head to conceal his defined lines before stepping out the door.

I lay on my back, awaiting his return. My eyes were slowly blinking closed when I heard the distinct rattling of ice. Evan slid his pillow under my knee before setting the bag of ice on it.

“I’m going to my room, so I don’t bang your knee while you’re sleeping,” he stated, easing the down comforter over me before kissing my forehead. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I murmured with a delicate grin, already drifting to sleep. I knew in that moment, I would never love anyone in my life the way I loved Evan Mathews.

34. Paying Attention

“What did you do?” Sara exclaimed much louder than necessary when we drove away from Evan’s the next morning. “And don’t you dare say ‘nothing’, because you are glowing.”

I pressed my palms against my fiery cheeks, knowing she saw way more than I intended.

“Not what you think,” I corrected. “But, it was… interesting.” I couldn’t hold the smile back. I stared out the window, unable to make eye contact with her.

“Uh, ‘interesting’ is not details,” she said impatiently. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Not today.” I grinned. But I would eventually. Not in the explicit detail that she would have liked, but enough so that she knew.

I was so caught up in the mind buzzing thoughts that fueled my glow when I returned home, that I barely registered my discomfort as I limped around on my leg, completing my chores. I was also oblivious when Carol came up behind me while I washed the previous night’s dishes.

The knife slipped through my soapy hands with a quick, forceful withdrawal.

I inhaled sharply at the sting of the blade against the inside of my fingers.

“Oh, did I get you?” Carol remarked snidely. “I needed it.”

I held my fingers tightly, glaring at her while what I really wanted to say screamed in my head. The blood dripped through my clenched fingers and spread in the water below. She set the knife on the counter, with no intention of using it, and left the kitchen with a malevolent smirk.

I reached across the counter and grabbed a handful of paper towels, leaving a trail of red in my wake. I wrapped them around the padded section of my sliced fingers, right below my knuckles. The blood easily soaked through the papery material.

I cradled my hand and walked into the bathroom, turning on the water to flush out the wound. My fingers pulsed as the blood flowed freely, swirling with the water down the drain. I had to use a towel to apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. I knew I’d have to do everything I could to remove the bloodstains later.