Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(21)

My phone beeped. Snow Day! was displayed under Sara's name. Good. That meant I could stay in bed until my mother turned up the heat.

Coming to get you in a few hours, appeared on my phone a moment later under Evan's name. I responded with an affirmative, feeling much too awake to find sleep again. Footsteps fell across the unforgiving boards leading to the bathroom, and seconds later the pipes thumped and squealed with the sound of water rushing through them. "Fine," I huffed out loud, "I'm getting up."

I threw my hair up in a pile of twists on top of my head and slid on socks to protect my feet from the icy floorboards before plodding down the stairs. Pulling a box of cereal from the cabinet, I poured myself a bowl to take into the living room. I adjusted the thermostat to a warmer temperature so I would no longer have to see my breath.



       
         
       
        

I flipped on SportsCenter and started eating the cereal. The sound of the door opening and feet banging against the wood on the porch stopped me mid-bite. I peeked over to find a guy brushing snow from his jacket and shoving off his boots by the door. My heart pounded, knowing what I looked like and not wanting to be seen by whoever it was entering like he belonged here.

I watched with wide eyes as a guy with messy dark hair walked into the living room with a bowl of cereal of his own. I pulled my knees up to cover my chest, very aware that I didn't have anything on under my long sleeved shirt. He had a muscular build and a youthful face―making me question exactly who he was. He didn't look that much older than Jared.

"Hey," he greeted with a nod, sitting next to me on the couch like he'd known me for years.

"Hi," I replied, not moving a muscle.

"I'm Chris," he offered before shoveling a mound of cereal into his mouth, the milk dribbling down his chin. He wiped it off with his sleeve while his eyes remained glued to the television. He glanced over at me again and said, "It's a shitty mess out there."

I nodded, not really wanting to have a conversation with this strange guy sitting next to me.

"Chris, are you still here?" my mother yelled from the top of the stairs, sounding like she hadn't expected him to be.

"Yeah," he bellowed in return.

"I thought you were leaving to get to class," she returned in confusion.

"Got cancelled," he answered, still staring at the TV.

"Um... could you start my car for me?"

"Yeah, sure."

Without complaint, Chris put his bowl down on the coffee table and walked out of the room. I listened to the jangling of keys and the click of the door. I'd hoped to disappear before he returned, but I was met with the door flinging open as he rushed in, out of breath, to escape the cold.

"What are you up to today?" he asked, using his toes to remove his snow covered boots.

"Not sure," I answered with my arms crossed over my chest.

"My friend's having a party tonight if you and Rachel want to come by," he offered.

"Oh," was all that I could find to say.

"Emily, you're up," my mother noted in surprise as she walked down the stairs in a long black skirt, black leather dress boots and a fitted green turtleneck sweater. "I thought school was cancelled."

"Don't you look all sexy in your work clothes," Chris admired before I could answer. She flashed an embarrassed glance my way and laughed uncomfortably. He grabbed her when she reached the bottom step, burying his face in her neck. She giggled awkwardly and pushed him away, walking past him to the kitchen. 

"So, will I see you when I get back from school in a few weeks?" he asked, following her.

"Umm... we'll see," she replied reluctantly, her cheeks bright red. "Want some coffee?" He followed her into the kitchen, and I hopped up the stairs two at a time to escape to my room. I stayed in there until I heard them leave. A few minutes later a text appeared. I'm so, so sorry about that. Thought he'd be gone by the time you got up. I didn't respond. I didn't even know what to say.

I wish I could say that Chris was a fluke and it never happened again. Although she attempted to hide the guys, I could hear her coming home giggling on the nights she stayed out late after work―presumably after drinking a little too much. I didn't usually see them, nor could I confirm if she was in fact drunk―I just had a feeling. Every so often, I'd bump into one of the guys on my way to the bathroom in the morning, but I probably wouldn't have known most of them were there at all if I could have actually gotten some sleep.

She never provided an explanation or apologized for their presence. Perhaps she didn't realize I knew. They'd come in after I was in bed, and she'd sneak them out early, before I got up. It's not like it happened every night, but it happened enough that I always made sure I had a sports bra on before I left my room.