Catch My Breath

by Wendy L. Wilson

  “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands,” she giggles and I quickly grab the pillow out from beneath my head and flip it across my face to drown out her voice.

  I keep both hands pressed into the feathery soft pillow, hearing the sounds of a door snapping shut, then fabric rustling, another snap like something clasping shut and then …

  What the …

  Pulling my head out from under the pillow a few inches, the brightness of the light is gone and Bethany’s shadowy form sits at the end of the bed taking off my shoes. Her hands snake up to my snap and zipper before I can so much as muster up a single word. This girl is relentless. I quickly slam the pillow back over my face, unable to watch her wrestle with my jeans in an attempt to get them off. I am not helping her out, but I give up on stopping whatever is doomed to happen.

  “Bethanyifi’mgoingtostayherejustletmesleeeep!” I mumble out through my pillow shield, making my entire sentence run together in an aggravated moan.

  Each time she yanks at the leg of my pants, my body slowly slides down the bed and I want to laugh at how difficult this is for her. I am not helping her out. Her fight seems to let up as a burning sensation crawls down the outsides of my legs like I just slid across the carpet. I thought Evan said I’d be taken care of, not rug burned to death as she tears my clothes off.

  “Here, take this off.”

  Stealing away my hiding spot, the pillow is pulled from my face and the fabric of my shirt is tugged over my head, sending a dull pain through my shoulder. I get the feeling she has done this before, but she sucks at it.

  Once again the weight of her body is draped over mine as she gets completely comfortable straddling my lap. Using one hand, I run it along the wads of sheets until my hand connects with my fluffy retreat from this situation. I liked it better with the pillow over my head so I didn’t have to be reminded that my best friend threw me to the lions.

  Pulling it to my chest as a barrier from her, I decide to talk my way out of this one just like I did with Candy. However, something tells me that Bethany may not be the kiss-on-the-cheek-after-she-has-been-rejected type. A hard smack across my face or swift kick to the groin may be more her style.

  “Hey, Bethany, I don’t know what my friend told you …” I use the word friend very loosely at this point. I’m going to kick Evan’s ass when I am sober enough to do it. “… but I am not looking for a one night stand or a hookup or anything like that.”

  She giggles, making my head thud and spin. My stomach churns as her hands slide over the skin of my stomach and her body wobbles around like she is swaying her hips to music.

  “I know he told me you weren’t over your ex, but I bet I can help you get over her.” More giggling and bouncing create a wave of nausea through my stomach up into my throat.

  I clear my throat, hoping to regain my composure and steer off vomiting. “Ahh, I don’t think so,” I say, aggravated as I glance back at her. I want to laugh at how sure she is of herself.

  “Oh, I bet I can.” Her bubbly voice grates on my nerves as her hand runs up my rib cage and over my scar, igniting another pulse of nausea through me.

  Maybe that’s what I need to do. Maybe that will send the message that this is not happening.

  Gulping deeply, I let out an uneasy sigh, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  She shifts a bit and for a second I think, really … not even that is going to get you off of me, but then finally lifts her body away from mine, allowing me to roll onto my side and deliver my very best performance of a near vomit induced drunk.

  I can barely make out anything in the room, except for what looks like a bed across the aisle and piles of clothes or towels littering the alleyway between the beds. Bethany’s feet brush across the carpet as she runs out of the room then quickly returns, tossing a small trashcan down beside the bed.

  “Here …”

  I lean over, pulling the pillow up over the side of my face. Her hand rubs over my back in a tender way, but instead of soothing my supposed sickness it aids in the realism of the situation. Maybe I’ll puke after all.

  I have no idea why I loathe her so much. There is just something I don’t trust about her and I most definitely do not want her to get the idea that there is anything going on between us, regardless of what Evan thinks is best for me.

  “Do you mind getting me a glass of water?”

  She bolts off of the bed and darts back with a glass of water in hand. After taking a couple sips, she slips back in bed and nuzzles up to my back. I grip the trashcan, leaning over the edge of the bed, knowing very well that I’m not going to vomit but also being completely uncomfortable with her lying so intimately close to me.

  My mind whirls around with thoughts of Alyssa. What the hell am I doing? How did I get here? How am I such a mess over two weeks?

  “I miss her,” I grumble into the trashcan, sounding as if I just shouted into a large vacant room.

  Bethany makes a couple more trips for a washcloth and aspirin before I shove the pillow back over my head, wishing I would wake up back in my own bed; better yet, that large cabin across the lake.

  “Judd … Judd …” Bethany says my name a couple times as my mouth curves into a smile and I slowly start to drift off. “Well, shit …” I hear right before I am plummeted into a quiet, relaxing darkness without her relentless efforts of trying to wake me and get me interested; only me and memories of Alyssa.

  Cracking, pounding jolts of lightning shoot from my temple around my head and straight down into the base of my neck.

  “Mmmmhhh …” I let out a moan with my eyes sealed shut and a soft warmth against my back.

  I squeeze my lids shut, trying my very best to function, to move any limb of my body. Why did I drink that much?

  Bethany’s curvy body presses into my back, making me desperately want to flee before she wakes, but at this point I’m not even sure if I am 100% sober. Gripping my hand hard into the soft folds of the pillow still clutched over my face, my ears pick up on a subtle sound in the room. It’s not coming from behind me so it can’t be Bethany. I lie motionless and focus on the sound. A scraping or grating noise that sounds similar to two surfaces scratching across one another rings in my ears. The room goes silent and all I pick up on is Bethany’s breath against the base of my neck. Please let her stay asleep so I can make a quiet exit.

  I keep the pillow firmly held over my face as the scraping sounds again, followed by a loud thump. More aggravated than anything that this noise could potentially snuff out my chances of a non-drama filled morning, I push the pillow away from my face so I can see what is disturbing the quiet of the room.

  All of a sudden my heart stops; it stops. I swear it stops beating and I am no longer breathing. I’m not breathing! I crinkle my brows together and tighten my hold on the pillow to help ground me because I know I am dreaming. Alyssa stands frozen in front of me.

  Waves of blonde hair hang over her shoulders and are tipped with moisture, dripping onto her shirt. My eyes roam down her body past her small waist and tight denim jeans that hug her curves. She has a pair of black knee high boots on and she looks sexier than I’ve ever seen her. Quickly pulling my line of sight back to her face, I take in her beautiful crystal blue eyes; the eyes I could look into forever; the ones I have dreamed about nearly every night for the past three months. The eyes I have prayed I would get the chance to look into again, only today is probably not the day for gazing because right now she looks pissed.

  I toss the pillow over to the side, not caring where it lands or who it wakes. My eyebrows shoot up, shocked and confused at how this could be. How is she here? How is she in the exact apartment that I am?

  Her eyes fill with a mixture of hurt and anger as she clutches her arm across her stomach much in the same way as I did last night. Continuing to glance back and forth between me and the other side of the bed, a slight brush of fabric moves across my arm that is bracing me up into the sitting position, and it is then when I realize just how this
looks. I look down at the sheet slung over my midsection, covering up the fact that I am still wearing my boxers then swing my gaze to the side to see Bethany’s barely covered up naked body. Shit, this looks bad! I didn’t do anything with her, but that is definitely not how it looks.

  “Lyssa.” My raspy, dry voice calls out but it doesn’t even sound like mine. “What are you doing here? I thought …” I gulp down the knot in my throat and let out a shaky breath as she holds up her hand for me to stop talking. This is bad!

  My chest heaves up and down with equal amounts of relief and dread that she is here. How is this possible? I thought she would be at Purdue. Did she stay because of her boyfriend? Maybe they broke up.

  My headache has temporarily taken a backseat and my mind spins with questions, hopes and scenarios that I can’t possibly find out at this moment, given the unfortunate way we have been reunited. I look her up and down once more, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and kiss the beautiful lips that I have been dreaming of, but then an icy tone I’ve never heard emerges from her lips, leaving me dumbfounded.

  “Did you tell her you love her, too?”

  I cock my head back in confusion and stare at her. What the hell does that mean, when she is the one …?

  I’m left with no time for thought as she races for the door, tripping over her feet in the process. Jumping to my own feet, I immediately realize I am completely sober and now pissed as hell. Where does she get off questioning my intentions?!

  “Wait a minute! Where do you get off being mad at me?”

  I tear my pants off the floor where Bethany must have thrown them and dart after Alyssa who is nearly out the door. Coordinating my efforts of jumping a leg at a time into my pants as I run after her, I yell out with anger coursing through me at her accusation.

  “What! You can dish it out but you can’t take it!” She shacks up with me for two weeks then races back to reunite with her boyfriend without a second thought and now she feels like she has a leg to stand on. Sucks to be on the receiving end!

  I stumble, nearly going headfirst onto the carpet as I try desperately to get to her before she can get away. Three months of wondering why; I just want an explanation.

  “Go back in and enjoy your slumber party!” she yells from outside the apartment building.

  “Lyssa, wait! Just let me talk to you!” I plead right as I round the doorway and my eyes collide with her cheating ex.

  I would know that face anywhere. It’s the same guy I saw in her profile picture, the one that haunted me, knowing that she was touching and kissing him and not me. He is also the same guy that stood right outside her house, grabbing her hand and holding onto her like I used to.

  He steps forward with a defensive stance between me and Alyssa as if I mean her harm. Honestly, just that action makes me want to punch him in the nose, because it should be my place to protect her, not his. After all, he is the one who ultimately hurt her by sleeping around on her, yet she still chose him. That thought shoves the piercing knife in a bit further, but then I hear a sound that splits my heart in two; his voice; the same voice from my call to her.

  “Is there a problem here?”

  I narrow my eyes and grit my teeth, fully prepared to lunge at him and fight for her. Opening my mouth, I’m fully intent on questioning this douchebag that can go out one night and shack up with another girl then run back to her with an apology and make everything right. Come on, Alyssa! What are you thinking? But no sooner than my lips part, her once alluring voice calls out with such animosity that it leaves me frozen.

  “It’s ok! He is one of Bethany’s overnighters and I accidentally walked in on them. They were more than likely so busy last night that she failed to mention she has a roommate,” she says as if seeing me like that meant nothing; as if it had no effect on her, but I know I saw hurt in her eyes.

  I know I did!

  Anger and pain course through my veins as I look into her eyes, and I freeze from the lack of love I see. Every section of my pounding heart has been mauled and left for dead.

  Her mouth moves again as she turns, pulling him along with her as if they are a package that goes everywhere together. I watch as they walk off and the blond asshole slowly slips his arm around her waist. I even watch as she turns and looks back at me one last time like she did at the lake as I drove off.

  My legs have become one with the sidewalk; completely cemented to the ground, I watch …

  I watch and let fury flood my mind and heart.

  STORMING BACK INTO THE apartment for my shirt and shoes, I come face to face with a very confused Bethany. My bare feet slam against the plush carpet while I glare at her sitting lazily on the couch in the living room. At least she has clothes on now. I’m thankful that I got to skip that awkward moment.

  “What was that all about?” she asks as she kicks her feet up on the coffee table, focusing on sliding a file across her thumb.

  I have no desire to talk to her or play nice. Was this a damn trick to get me in bed? How could she not know that Alyssa and I know each other?

  Gritting my teeth so that I don’t blurt out what I think of her, I take large strides into the bedroom, hastily knocking the door out of my way as I enter. As soon as my eyes take in the room with sunlight filtering in through the window, I immediately notice a second bed on the other side of the room. My lungs temporarily stop filtering air as I glance at the pillow wondering if it smells like her skin.

  I suck in a deep breath as shuffling sounds from the next room. Glancing around quickly for my shirt, my eyes skim over her neatly made bed, a perfectly lined row of shoes peeking out from beneath it and a large dresser along the far wall that separates the two sleeping spaces. My eyes zone in on a small frame that lies tipped over on top of the dresser. Mustering up all the willpower in my body, I refrain from running over and examining the picture. My heart stills in my chest at the thought that the picture could be one of ours from the lake.

  “What was that all about with my roomie?” Bethany says in a giggle as she slinks against the doorway.

  Looking towards her through the corner of my eyes, I bend down and grasp my shirt and shoes then slowly lay them on the opposite bed; Alyssa’s bed.

  “Yeah, good piece of information to share when you bring a guy home.”

  I slide my shirt over my head then take a seat on her roomies bed; Geez this is Alyssa’s bed. Lowering my brows in a serious glare, I take in her cool facade and lazy stance. Is it even possible that she is clueless about Alyssa and me; that Alyssa possibly never said anything?

  Caving in somewhat, I play along just to feel her out, “So that was your roommate, huh?” I raise my eyebrows in question as Bethany nods.

  Slipping a foot into my sneaker, I go on, “I had no idea. All I know is, I woke up and there was some strange person at the end of the bed. I must have startled her as well because she took off running,” I say, using basically the same excuse Alyssa did earlier.

  Bethany huffs out a laugh, moving into the room. Positioning herself onto her mattress in a seductive manner, she opens her mouth as I lace up my other shoe then walk over to the dresser.

  “It sure sounded like a heated discussion. I woke up and saw you bolting after her and yelling about dishing out something. Do you two know each other?”

  I swing my head around and am met with a vacant look that tells me any answer will suffice. It is clear that Alyssa never shared the details of our summer together.

  Pausing for a brief moment to answer, I swing my gaze back to the dresser and hold my breath as I carefully lift up the flipped over frame. Once I scan the picture of an older man surrounded by four women including Alyssa and Abby, I carefully place it upward on the dresser with each of their faces staring directly at me.

  “Nope, she doesn’t look familiar. She scared me, honestly. I wasn’t expecting someone else in the room. It was a huge misunderstanding.” I stare straight ahead at Alyssa’s baby blue eyes in the photograph. Casually po
inting at the frame, I play stupid, hoping to get some sort of information from Bethany. “This must have been what fell over and woke me up earlier. How long have you two roomed together?”

  Swinging my gaze back to her, I see her face light up as if I’m trying to get to know her.

  “Just since the beginning of the month. She and I have been friends for a while, though. We’re from Fairview, but couldn’t handle the commute back and forth … sooo … we decided to move closer.” She smiles and stares at me as I glance back once more to the frame and nod. “Her father is sick so things could change soon and she may want to move back home.”

  Finally Bethany takes a u-turn and guides the discussion in the direction I want; however, this isn’t the information I was hoping for.

  “Sick?” I ask calmly, keeping all traces of concern out of my tone.

  “Yeah, she found out her dad has cancer this summer and … or well, actually he had it a couple years ago, but it returned. It has really hit her hard and I’m not sure he is going to beat it this time.”

  My heart is hammering from the thoughts of how much this has got to be tearing Alyssa up. I wish I could have been there for her; if only she had wanted me there.

  “That’s awful,” I throw out in a bland tone, but my mind is focused on the single vision of Alyssa’s face when she told me about her dad the day we went fishing.

  “Speaking of my roommate, I’m having a birthday party for her Wednesday. Care to be my date?”

  Moving away from the dresser over to the door, I stop mid-step, snapping my head around to look at her. She still lies sprawled on her side, across her bed like she is trying to lure someone. Unfortunately, I believe I’m the victim in this scenario.

  Date … not a chance. I open my mouth to answer then stop to think about what she actually said. Alyssa’s birthday is Friday; a detail that I have continually forced to the back of my mind this week, wondering what she would be doing, where she would be or who she would be with. Maybe tagging along wouldn’t be such a bad idea, but first I need to make some things clear.