But then I noticed the torment laced in his posture. He was sitting on the steps with his legs parted wide, an elbow on each, and his head in his hands as though he were experiencing the worst migraine of his life. And maybe he was. Maybe I was just a constant headache to him. A nagging ache.
When I walked to the back of the classroom, it was to offer comfort, to ease some of his grief, not to make it worse. And it had backfired. Now, as I stood here, confusion swam inside not knowing what to do. What to say. The last thing I wanted was to cause him more pain, and maybe I should have walked away . . .
But I just couldn't.
Not when he was breaking.
I squatted behind him, my head swimming in a fog of having his aura so close. Unable to stay away, longing to ease his suffering, my trembling fingers reached out. But his back tensed, seeming to sense it. My hand paused, suspended in mid-air. Agony rolled from each of his exhales and I wasn’t sure if my touch would bring him comfort or hurt him worse. I was thankful the campus was quiet at the moment and that there wasn’t anyone around to witness our wreckage.
His fists knotted around his hair, and then he raked his fingers through the ends and turned, shooting a look over his shoulder at me. I’d never seen that look in his eyes before, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget it. Anguish laced with something bordering hatred dancing around a broken love. That was the only way I could describe it. That look slapped me across the face without ever touching me, and I abruptly rose to my feet, stumbling back to get away from it. Blake immediately stood as well, his fists in tight balls at his sides.
“Do you love me?” His eyes were wild, searching mine.
Not the words I was expecting.
I opened my mouth to respond but found my tongue immobile. How could he even question that? But before I could find the right words, he advanced up one step, his hateful expression slicing me open and I fumbled backward, feeling my heart trip in my chest.
“Can’t answer?” He cocked his head to the side, an unhinged sort of madness spiraling in his sapphire orbs. I had never seen him this way, and it stunned me, my brain unable to form an answer to that very simple question. To tell him just how much. All of the ways that I adored him. Missed him. Longed for him. All of the cries that I’d wept for him and the nights I hadn’t slept with worry for him.
He took another step, stole another beat of my heart.
“C’mon, Angel. It’s a simple question,” he scoffed, glitters dancing in his watery eyes. “Do. You. Love. Me?” he rasped.
More than air.
But the words didn’t come. Of course I loved him. I loved him with every molecule of my being, but I didn’t know if hearing that would make him feel better or worse. And I loved him enough to sacrifice my need for him if it meant he would be better in the long run. My brain was scrambling, trying to figure out the best approach, but he didn’t give me a chance.
“What are you doing to me?” His steely exterior began to flake away, his chest noticeably flying around his speeding heart. An unmasked pain etched every inch of his face, making him look older than his years. “You push me away. You shut me out. And yet you keep coming around, leaving your little drippings in my life just to be sure I can’t forget you.”
Two more steps.
My shoulder blades met the bricks behind me. There was nowhere else for me to go, my body as immobile as my tongue as he closed in.
“Tell me,” he demanded, his eyes grazing my features so roughly I could feel them scratch at the flesh of my face, imploring. Begging.
“I—”
The distraught look smeared across his face stopped me. Telling him how much I loved him would just be another selfish act on my part, and I had to put him first from now on. I owed him that much.
His frustration bubbled over his cracking exterior. With a growl, he eliminated the remaining space between us and came at me hard and fast, caging me against the brick wall. My chest heaved, the air I sucked in suffocating me.
“What the fuck are you trying to do to me?” he thundered, pain bleeding from each syllable. He fisted the shirt over his chest, twisting with a pull before banging on it. “I gave you every piece of me. All of it! And you fucking shredded me. I’m not your personal plaything, Evangelina. And now, you can’t even say the words?”
His face was so close, his nose practically touching mine as a wave of his scent crashed into me. A soapy, musky, manliness that mingled with his own personal sweetness. I remembered that smell as much as I remembered its taste. It took everything I had not to crumble into him, but it hit me then how badly he was crumbling, too.
“I miss you,” I whispered, the words floating out on their own. They brought with them a fear of rejection. But it was liberating to admit, even though they didn’t hold the weight of the words he was looking to hear.
“Humph.” The sarcastic grumble fell from his mouth. Blake pushed off the wall, allowing a gust of clean air to slap me in the face and I gasped, trying to take it in. He leveled his eyes at me, soaked in disappointment. “You wrecked me, girl.”
I could see the calm sweeping into him the way it does after a rush of adrenaline. For a split second, something flickered in his eyes making me wonder if the nostalgia of us was hitting him as much as me. Knowing how hard it always was for us to stay away from each other. We stayed locked for a second, or maybe an hour, but then he turned away from me, leaving me pressed against the brick. Alone.
Anxiety began to crawl up my neck, knowing that our moment was over. That he was leaving me and my mind grasped at straws, not knowing what to say. How to make him come back. Sorry that I didn’t say more.
I remembered the girl in the photo and all the reasons why this shouldn’t happen. I called out just before he got too far, “I hope she makes you happy,” and then my heart broke. Because as rancid as those words tasted, I knew that I had meant them.
Blake stopped in his tracks and shoved his hands in his pockets. Without turning around, he replied, “Yeah, well, someone has to.”
And then he walked away without another word, taking another beat of my heart with him—a slight thrum that he could slip into the pocket of his heart or throw into the trash. Whatever suited his fancy.
Either way, it no longer belonged to me.
PFFT.
The sound of my padded fist meeting muscled flesh thumped the air, the whoosh of my breath pushing in and out of my mouth, coiling around it in an intricate rhythm.
“Harder,” Drew prompted, dancing around me.
One—Two
I jabbed, my knuckles connecting with his ribs.
“Faster.” On the balls of his feet, his movements were light as air. He was like the Fred Astaire of the ring.
One—Two—Three
I increased the frequency with each punch, which used to kill my wrists, but even they seemed to be getting stronger.
“Harder, Sunshine. Make me feel it!” Drew shoved my shoulders, and I stumbled back. He banged his gloves together and came back at me with a determined stalk.
I sized up each of his steps, trying to foresee his next line of action, but he wasn’t showing any tells.
Pfft.
He landed a quick jab to my side, and I collapsed inward to protect it.
“You’re off your game. Pay attention to every move I make.” He shoved my shoulders again, and I stumbled back a few more feet as he advanced, not waiting for me to find my bearings. My encounter with Blake must have been distracting me. I hadn’t been this clouded in the ring since Drew and I began working together. But ever since Blake had walked away from me, he was all I could think about even when I didn’t realize I was. I pulled myself back into the now, trying my best to calculate Drew’s steps—right, left, right, hitch to the left with a crouch.
Duck—Block
I knew the right fist would be coming that time.
One. Block left.
Two. Slide right.
Breathe.
Uppercut. My fist c
onnected with his jaw, sending his head flying back.
He recovered quickly. “Again.”
Masochist.
One—Two. Block. Block.
His flow was gaining speed.
One—Two—Three. Duck, swerve, sidestep.
Punch back.
I hopped from foot to foot, dancing on the balls of my feet as my ponytail swayed behind me. My entire body was slick with moisture as sweat dripped between my shoulder blades and breasts.
Unlike in the beginning, my stamina nearly mirrored Drew’s now. He was turning me into a machine.
He flurried his shots. I bobbed and weaved, managing to escape most, coiling in from the few that I’d miscalculated. I’d been trained to keep going, despite the burn, numb to the ache. There was a way of turning off your brain to the pain. Convincing your body it hadn’t felt anything when everything inside of you felt as though it were fighting a fire.
I retaliated.
One—Two—Three—Four.
Drew had a hard time blocking, and I lunged, seizing my opportunity. I moved on to my next blow, immediately after landing my last, barely giving him a second to recover. He recoiled, and I advanced, driving him backward, and I saw his eyes spark. He loved it when I came into myself and went into attack mode.
My top lip curled back over my teeth, exposing my grit. Breathe.
In quick succession, I landed blow after blow. Drew’s gloves were raised high, protecting his face as his elbows stayed tucked tight to his body. He jostled left to right, taking each blow before barreling at me and wrapping his gigantic arms around me, locking my hands at my sides. I squealed and rocked, trying with everything in me to get him to loosen his hold, but his strength was incredible. He squeezed like an anaconda, and I felt my head becoming dizzy with the lack of oxygen. A black and white static crawled into my field of vision from outside points, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I collapsed.
Knowing Drew’s first rule was “there are no rules,” survival instinct kicked in, and I brought my knee up, connecting with his precious jewels. He expelled a pained sound, but never loosened his grip. The man had the most insane willpower I’d ever seen. We tumbled to the ground, bouncing off the mat in a heap, winded and sweating, gasping and swallowing hard. I lay on my back, Drew still wrapped securely around me, neither one of us able to catch a breath.
Air pulled and pushed through the wide part of his lips as his chest pressed into mine with each exhale. Something in him shifted suddenly. The hard pull of his eyebrows slackened through each of his pants as his eyes concentrated, like he was trying to look into me, showing me so much of his unspoken troubles.
“You okay?” I immediately felt bad for not being the friend that he had been to me.
Drew’s face sobered, but he didn’t answer.
“Want to talk about it?” Our breaths were settling, slowing.
He rolled off of me. And rested his forearm on his bent knee, talking down toward his leg. “You never did give us a chance. Why?”
His question knocked into me, startling my anxiety. I sat up. “Drew—”
He peeked over at me. “Before you go getting all ‘we’re just friends’ it’s not like that. We are just friends now, and I love you like a sister, that’s all. It’s just . . .” he sighed and I could tell whatever was troubling him was something he was ashamed of. Something he didn’t want to say out loud. “Is there something wrong with me?” The pinch between his eyebrows, the insecurity behind his eyes, broke my heart. How could he ever think that?
“Wrong with you? No. Why would you even say that?”
“I’ve never had a real girlfriend, Eva. Never had a steady anything and it’s not for lack of trying. What am I doing wrong? Am I that tainted? Do I scream psycho-problem-child or something?” He tripped over that last statement and looked away, his cheeks reddening.
“Stop that right now. You are so amazing, do you hear me? Any girl would be more than lucky to have you.” I slid my hand onto his arm and tugged, forcing him to look back to me. “Pay attention to me. I’m serious. This is not a speech.”
“So what is it then? Why does everyone just brush me off?”
As I grazed my thumb along his forearm trying to soothe him, my finger glided over a rough patch of skin, calling my eyes to the discolored circle that I had noticed when we’d first had coffee. It reminded me that his concerns were even more deep-rooted than he was saying. “Maybe because they’re not the right someone.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t come up with something a little less generic?”
He finally relaxed a bit, so I decided to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe they’re intimidated by all this.” I wagged my finger around the expanse of his body, finally coaxing a smile from him. When I could see the tension leave his shoulders, I continued. “You’ll find your happily ever after. Your girl is out there waiting for you somewhere, trust me. There’s someone for everyone.” I tried to remain positive, but my mind drifted to Blake, and my heart broke open in my chest.
“And you?”
My eyes locked with his as my heart stilled. “I’m a bit of a tougher scenario.” I gulped, laying my cards out there. “I found mine. And then I let him go.” The corner of my mouth puckered.
“Tell me about it?”
I dragged in some courage. “When Damon attacked me that last time, I couldn’t live with myself. I broke in every sense and didn't want to take him along for the ride, so I walked away. But my heart . . .” My breathing skidded to a stop. “My heart will always be his. It’s not mine to give away any more,” I whispered, lowering my gaze. It was so painful to think of Blake . . . I tried to do it as little as possible. And after the way we had left things the other day, I couldn’t stomach the thought.
Drew placed a finger beneath my chin and lifted, forcing me to focus on him. He smirked, the sadness showing through the mask of his smile. “Maybe after all this, there’ll be a second chance for you two.”
Remember in life there are second chances. Blake’s forget me not.
“I . . .” My voice cracked as emotion bubbled up my throat at the prospect of the truth in what I was about to say. “I think it’s too late, Drew.” The dam finally burst, and I put my head in my hands and wept. Wept for a lost time, for futures that weren’t possible, and for the loss of the love of a lifetime. Drew held me, masking his own pain as I crumbled yet again. As much as I knew that I needed to get strong, to be the woman that Blake needed if he ever took me back, to face my nightmares head-on, it didn’t help the fact that this was so fucking hard. No matter how strong I became, this was breaking me.
Another chisel to my façade.
Another Band-Aid to one more gaping wound.
Numbness
Overtakes—bleeds from within
Clouding any form of rational
Making colors bleed into rainbows, melt into grays, dropping into piles of ash.
Life crumbling—falling to the pits of death
A fiery death that you sit in. Screaming. Weeping.
Breathless.
I PLACED MY tray on the silver rods and slid it to the right, looking at the food behind the glass in the cafeteria. A friendly woman, with a net holding her hair back, smiled wide. “What can I get you, dear?”
Hungrier than usual, my stomach answered for me. I clutched at its boldness and offered a weak smile. “Turkey on whole wheat.”
“Coming right up.” She did quick work slicing and laying, before handing it over. “I gave you a little extra.” She winked.
“Thanks.” My appetite was insatiable ever since I’d been working out.
Blake would be so proud. Queasiness rolled through me at the thought of him, but I swallowed it away.
Number seven-million-four-hundred-thousand and ninety-two. That was how many times something had brought my mind to him, and I was sick of it.
I paid the clerk and collected my tray, brushing past a few tables in search of a free one. Ironically, th
e one I’d occupied on the beautiful sunny day I’d officially met Blake was empty, sunlight pouring in, creating a dusty ray across it. My fingers tightened around the plastic, and I drew the tray into the ache in my belly.
Number seven-million-four-hundred-thousand and ninety-three.
With a loud silence, I lowered the tray and took a seat. Staring out the window, I took it all in. The weather was changing, and the beauty of it was something you could almost feel. Spring always gave me the impression it’d bring with it a happier time. It felt promising, like a chance to rebirth and start anew.
A few months ago, I couldn’t wait for these days—to enjoy the outdoors with Blake, lazing beneath Bertha and staring up at her new hair swaying in a gentle breeze. Our fingers entwined while he drew circles on the palm of my hand with his thumb over and over. Picnics and early morning kisses.
A bluebird perched itself on the small windowsill and cocked its head, staring at me. He was so beautiful and so far from home in the big city. I wondered what he was doing here. His eyes studied me, almost seeming to convey concern if that were possible. Sunlight played on his beautiful feathers, and I fumbled, trying to find my phone to take a picture without taking my eyes off his for fear he’d fly away. I didn’t want to miss getting a shot at one of those beautiful moments.
Number seven-million-four-hundred-thousand and ninety-four.
My fingers tripped around in my bag as I stayed focused on the tiny animal when the distinct sound of a click rang in my ear. My hand froze, and my body stiffened, the hairs on my arms shooting to attention all at once while bending to the left of me. Toward where I knew, without a doubt, he was sitting.
The blood drained from my face, taking my belly with it.
The bird flew away.
“Hi,” I whispered without turning to see him. I didn’t need confirmation of his presence.
Breathe You Page 14