I look at Judd, getting the idea that Tristan would rather be doing anything other than being on a party line with a bunch of happy-go-lucky people ringing in the holidays. I think he’s satisfied to just wallow in his grief and throw his own pity party this year, but with good reason. It hasn’t been a big year to celebrate for him.
A couple of more questions come across from everyone with a few requests for him to haul his ass five hours out of his way for a plate of food and a short visit before he’d have to head back. No thank you; that is exactly the answer they all get, but with much more colorful wording.
“I don’t believe I hear Abby. Didn’t you say she is there, Judd?” His voice comes out lively and bordering on the desire to annoy the piss out of someone, anyone, especially Abby, who he knows will rise to the occasion.
All of our eyes move to Abby as her mouth drops open and her eyes widen. Her and Tristan’s dealings this past summer were about as callous as mine and Piper’s had been. There wasn’t a whole lot of days that I didn’t hear him spouting out some sarcastic, derogatory comment her way with her responding with a quick one finger salute or some insult regarding his manhood. It was actually quite entertaining.
Judd stares at Abby as she folds her arms across her chest and squints as if she is already getting ready for an obnoxious comment, but neither say a word. Geez, I need to hang with Tristan more; he’s good people.
“Oh wait, wait…I bet she’s out skinny dipping. That was her thing this summer, right?!”
I barely catch a quiet snicker over the phone, but I don’t miss Abby’s eyes going wide as she drops her hands to her sides and snaps her head to the side to look at her mom.
“Abby!” her mom snaps in a disapproving tone with a hint of humor.
Everyone else roars in laughter with Alyssa bent at the waist between her mom and sister.
Abby swings her eyes back to the mantle as if Tristan is standing right there, and she has an arsenal of daggers aimed right at him.
“Oh shut up, Tristan. You never put on clothes the whole time you were out here.”
Tristan’s chuckles turn to a full on laugh as the rest of us crack up, except Grandpa which is shaking his head, and Abby’s mom who looks disapproving.
“Oh Abby.” Her mom shakes her head as Abby looks as though she is desperately trying to find the words to defend what now sounds like a summer orgy at the lake.
To think, I wasn’t going to come over here today. Hell, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.
“Mom, it wasn’t like that. It’s not like we were skinny dipping with the guys. It was just us girls when we did.”
Alyssa slaps her leg, holding one arm around her stomach at her mom and sister’s reaction.
“Alyssa, were you doing this too?”
She straightens up fast, giving her mom a profound look with her eyes wide.
“No way, Mom…that was all them.” She points towards Abby, Skylar, Piper and Jessie. Only face that doesn’t look downright proud of their moonlight naked swim is Piper, which has a pink glow to her face now.
My chest vibrates and stomach rolls with laughter the more I watch the panic and annoyance across Abby’s face.
“Abby, anyone ever tell you that that little birthmark you have on the upper inside of your left thigh looks just like a butterfly?” Tristan chuckles, one-hundred percent hell bent on riling her now.
Abby’s face goes pale as she looks around. All laughter stops with everyone’s eyes on her, expectant. For a minute, the same question that is probably on everyone’s mind rises into my head, but I clip it off; I don’t think for a second that Abby would have given it up to Mr. Manslut himself…too cliché. I’m sure Tristan has a bit of a peeping tom lurking under the surface of that cool exterior.
“Ab…bee…” her mom whisper-yells in a manner that has drifted from slightly disapproving to a what-the-hell tone in a matter of seconds.
Abby looks stunned, pissed, and about to reach through the phone to wring Tristan’s ever loving neck. I don’t think she gives a damn what sort of injuries he’s nursing right now; she wants to murder him. If I were Tristan, I would keep my running shoes handy.
“Ok, Tristan…that’s enough,” Judd pipes up quietly, grabbing the phone as Tristan roars with laughter on the other end of the line.
“Get it girl,” Jessie says in a pleasing tone.
“Ok, wellll…ummmm…” Hayden leans in towards Abby as everyone seems to click all the pieces into place and say what’s on their mind. Did Abby and Tristan get it on out here? No way.
“Tristan, did you really…” Judd starts, taking Tristan off speaker phone and shoving the phone to his ear.
“Well this is fun,” Jake joins in with a calm, not so amused voice. “Here I thought she might be the only one that was immune to his charm.”
I quickly glance at Skylar on his words with my eyebrows raised. She sheepishly rolls her eyes. Yeah, she’s guilty. Seriously, is there not one girl that turned him down? On that note, I snap my attention to Piper; Oh hell no, she better not have. She catches my glare, shaking her head slowly as if she can read my mind, and is soundlessly saying, ‘Are you an idiot, of course not’. Well, at least that’s what I’m going to go with anyways.
“Evan, just what the hell gets into you kids when you all get together?” Grandpa leans to my side, seeming a little stunned.
I can’t help but want to egg it on though, “Oh, come on Grandpa. You remember what it was like to be our age once? Everything’s more fun when you’re naked right?” I keep my eyes on Piper as I speak to him, but she just rolls her eyes with a slight smile that tells me she may be up for my subtle invite. Oh yeah.
The fun dies down after a good round of questions thrown at Abby, and her shouting towards the phone until Judd clips the conversation to give a public apology for Tristan as well as letting everyone know that he has not been himself. I literally want to laugh my ass off at that one. Anyone and everyone that is familiar with his constant desire to get under a person’s skin, can tell that this is the Tristan we all know and love; he always seems to want to ruffle Abby’s feathers in particular. He has since the moment he met her.
Piper excuses herself to the kitchen, busying herself with cutting pie and dishing pieces into bowls with a huge dollop of fluffy whipped cream plopped on top of each one. As soon as she slips her cream covered finger into her mouth, my mind is seeing it in a whole other light. My body is ready to get the hell out of dodge with her hand in mine. That simple act of plopping that finger in her mouth is way too familiar. Not to mention, the way she stares me down as she pulls her fingers slowly out from between her lips with a silent smack, it makes me think that she remembers too.
KEEPING MY EYES LOCKED ON him, I jerk my finger back out of my mouth. The sweetness of the whipped topping melts on my tongue and circulates a savory sugar rush over my taste buds; I immediately crave the pumpkin pie I have divvied out in front of me…or maybe it’s not pie at all. I continue to watch Evan as Skylar sidles up beside him and a vice clamps over my heart, pulling at it with a slice of envy and making me wish I was in another time; another place.
“Is it good?” My eyes widen in excitement as he slips a finger full of whiskey spiked caramel sauce into his mouth.
Watching as he plops his finger back out, his Adam’s apple wobbles up and down at his throat while his expression changes, making me rethink trying it at all.
He hands me the bowl with a smile and a shrug. “Try it.”
Hesitantly, I take it with an uneasy nod and a surge of doubt rising within me as I keep the bowl between us; I’ve never had alcohol before. “I don’t know,” I drag out my words. “And you’re sure it has alcohol in it? I mean will it get me drunk?” Looking up, I can immediately tell Evan is barely holding it together. A grin ticks at his lips as he presses them together and folds his arms at his stomach.
“Oh yeah, one lick and you’ll be stumbling your way to my aunt’s house, slurring folk songs
and handing out hugs like candy,” he teases me with a grin that I suddenly feel deep within the structure of my own face as if looking upon his has embedded one on me as well. “You’ll be drunk as shit, for sure.”
I giggle, smacking at his bicep playfully.
“Ouch…watch it.” He shifts his brows up flirtatiously and I immediately glance down at the opened bowl as if it’s now beckoning to me, saying taste me.
Before I can so much as make a move or give in to the temptation, Evan’s finger quickly comes into my line of sight. Strings of caramel trail from his hand back to that bowl in a spider web fashion. I dodge his sabotaging technique of wanting to shove it in my mouth by dipping my chin down, but instead of a sneak attack, he keeps his hand idle only a millimeter from my lips. As soon as his index finger brushes across the tip of my nose, depositing a nice amount of the sticky goo, I know my efforts failed. Evan grits his teeth, appearing to be holding back a boatload of amusement. For some reason the vision of a dog licking peanut butter off of its nose over and over and over until it’s sure that it’s gone, flashes through my mind for a brief second. I bust out laughing; I have to look like an idiot, but I don’t care. Evan’s face breaks wide open with a huge smile and all the laughter he was keeping at bay fills my eardrums with how carefree and simple being around him can be.
“Evan…” I spit out, trying to sound stern and scold him for attempting to paint my face.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to get it…”
I don’t wait for him to finish before a surge of revenge sends my finger right into the sauce and flinging it towards his nose so that I can see how he likes it. Of course, Evan is quicker than me, reading my moves before I even make them. He nudges his chin forward, but with his mouth open as he captures my fingertip right between his lips. The warmth of his mouth closes in around my skin and although I still have no idea what the sauce tastes like, my mouth also opens and my heart skips to the next beat.
He closes his eyes for a second, as if the flavor of the sticky goo is the best thing he’s ever tasted. I keep my eyes locked on his, watching his every move and overly aware of the softness of his mouth as his cheeks dip in as if he’s tasted something bitter or sour. The suction around my finger gets stronger as he pulls his head back and reopens his eyes; I can’t say a word. The whole moment has my mouth sealed shut, the air in the room is stuffy and hot, my heart is thumping like speakers at a concert and parts of my body are humming like I’ve never felt before. The moment gets serious real fast and Evan quickly loses his grin, staring back at me in silence. My hand is still held in the air between us with my fingertip resting at his lips. He slowly pulls his head back some more, opening his mouth as I watch him gently graze his teeth over my finger as he finishes his hand-fed dessert.
Neither of us say a word, but I feel strange; confused, yet excited. I have no clue why his lips on my finger has me so hypnotized, but for some reason it is the single most electrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. My stomach flips, like going down a roller coaster at full speed. His mouth lifts at one corner with a crooked grin and I flick my eyes quickly to shake off the storm of sensations racing through me. Something about feeling this way makes me feel guilty.
Evan must sense a change in the mood; he clears his throat and quickly speaks up. “You gonna try it?”
I bat away the butterflies in my stomach that always emerge when we get close like this. It’s been a year now since he kissed me and since then we’ve kept our relationship PG-13. I’m not sure how I’ll react if it ever goes beyond holding hands and kissing.
“Yeah, ok,” I say, keeping my eyes on him.
He quickly grabs the bowl out of my hands, which now makes me aware that I was on the verge of dropping it. I lower my hand, swiping my palm across my denim shorts discreetly before bringing it back up, ready to taste this weird concoction his grandpa raves about. On a blink, I lower my gaze to the tan-colored goop that looks a lot like the melted caramels that Mom and I used to use when making a turtle cheesecake or like the caramel syrup that Dad avalanches over a heap of vanilla ice cream. My stomach rumbles with that thought and my saliva glands go into overdrive, prodding me to dive in and sample it.
What the hell. I shove my finger into the mixture which is so misleading. Looking at its soft creamy appearance, I expect it to have that texture, but instead it is stiff and cold, the opposite of what I would expect a sauce to be.
I look up at Evan as I continue to dig my finger into the ooze, tugging and hooking it to capture a nice heap.
He smiles, watching me collect a supply of it on my finger. “It’s better when it’s warm and a lot less messy.”
Pulling my finger out of the bowl, I hold it above the mixture and twirl it to get the threads of caramel to weave around the large drop glued to the end of my finger. It wraps around the blob like delicate strands of pasta stockpiling onto a fork.
His smile grows as I pull it to my mouth and pause. “Is it real strong?”
Shaking his head, he chuckles. “Oh good grief…it’s not an insect or poisonous plant I’m having you try. Just taste it.”
Here goes. I shove it in my mouth, the flavors instantly spreading over my tongue from a rich sweet buttery taste, a creamy smooth texture and ending with a strong bitter bite. I think his grandpa was planning his own birthday celebration with this batch.
“Wow…” I raise my brows and smack my mouth, still aware of the remnants of caramel between the sides of my mouth and gums. The whiskey wasn’t the most predominant flavor; it was more of a butter taste with a briny after bite like a salted caramel dessert. “That’s good.” I smile, my tongue and belly screaming for more.
“I know I told you and here you were so afraid that you’d be putting one foot in the doorway of alcoholism if you took a teeny-tiny taste.”
A squeaky laugh slips out of my mouth as I lean forward and slap at his chest. He instantly grabs the bowl out of my hand, sliding it behind him onto the table and pulling me against him in one swift motion. The suddenness of it all takes me by surprise and a strange sense of dizziness falls over my entire body as if I’m drifting into a black hole while struggling to stay upright.
My eyes fall shut, but I feel them still as if they are being sewn shut; the pull of each stitch tugs at my skin, pulling and fusing them together against my will. I release a breath and dissolve into nothingness.
“Piper…hey…” a gentle pat comes and goes from my cheek, over and over as his voice becomes more clear. “Come on…Piper…wake up,” his voice is panicked and strained. “Are you breathing…God, you are. Thank God!”
My eyes flutter and a blurred image comes into my immediate view, only inches away from my face. I open them wide, stretching each lid to break loose the sewn together feeling.
“There you are. Hey,” he pulls my forehead to his and it dawns on me that I’m no longer standing. “I just about ran out to get Grandpa. I thought maybe you were having a seizure or…” he trails off as if he knows that wasn’t the case, but still wants to get a feel for me. “Do you need me to go get him or call a doctor or to…”
I shake my head, aware of what happened now. It wasn’t any sort of medical condition; it was fear; it was memories throwing a veil over my head and overpowering me in a struggle to stay awake or to let them knock me out before I’m there again. It’s happened on a couple of occasions, one while I was with Evan, one while at a dance recital, and another while I was in bed sleeping. I’ve spent countless hours going over each detail and until now I haven’t one hundred percent pinpointed the trigger.
Sitting up, I look around taking inventory of where I am and how he is touching me. His hands gently fall from the sides of my face as I ease my way up from his lap. I look over to the kitchen, shocked that I’m now on the couch.
“Did you carry me?”
He nods, a startled look in his eyes, yet he says nothing. I want to ask what happened, but I’m not even sure I want to discuss it at all.
A loud s
ound breaks the confines of the cabin as his grandpa swishes the screen door open and steps inside.
“You kids ready?” he says in a rush of excitement, obviously eager to get to my aunt’s party.
“Yeah…we’re ready.” Evan jumps to his feet, making the couch bounce from his lack of weight beside me.
His grandpa turns to exit with no more said. I also rise to my feet, getting a funny feeling as Evan walks out without looking back or waiting to see if I follow. My heart sinks and a wave of remorse splinters through me. I should have said more. Shaking my head and dismissing that thought with the excuse that I didn’t have time, I quickly follow them out and jump into the renovated golf cart that his grandpa is so proud of.
We both sit side-by-side on the outer seat facing the road and watching as it winds along behind us. The engine is quiet and other than the skiers and boats lapping by periodically, the trip is peaceful and stress free; all except for the fact that a lingering presence of wrongdoing keeps tugging at my heart. It’s been a year; a year and I’ve never told him anything about that night. I glance over and watch as Evan stares out at the rippling water splashing up along the ledge of the shore. The further we get from the cabins, the more secluded the area gets and steeper the drop off into the lakes edge becomes. I look away, turning my head towards the opposite side which is bordered with tall green pine trees and sprinkled with colorful wildflowers here and there. The chirping of birds and crackle of branches beyond add to natures medley of sights and sounds.
I try to enjoy it by focusing on breathing in the sweet fumes of daisies, pansies and daffodils that drift over the subtly humid air. It’s no use. I snap my head around to say I’m sorry, to say we need to talk, anything, but before I can open my mouth, his warm hand is in mine and I turn only to meet his stare.
“We’re here.” The cart stops and Evan bounces out of his seat, tugging me along. “Come on…I want to show you something. Grandpa, we’ll be right in.”
“Is that your aunt’s house?” I ask as Evan pulls at my hand, already three paces in the direction he wants to go.
Breathe With Me (The Breathe Series Book 3) Page 19