Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(29)

"Jonathan, this is Evan," my mother introduced. Jonathan held out his hand with a broad smile.

"Nice to meet you." Evan shook his hand in return.

"You too," Jonathan responded. There was a strange silence while we all just stood there in the foyer looking at each other.

"We're going upstairs to study," I finally announced, taking Evan by the hand.

"That's him, huh?" Evan said, closing the door behind us.

"Yup," I said, sitting down on the bed. "That's him."

"Not who I was expecting," he stated.

"Who were you expecting?" I countered, surprised by the contemplative look in his eyes.

"I don't know," he said dismissively, sitting next to me on the bed. He leaned down and was about to kiss me when we were interrupted by a knock at my door.

"Hi," Sara burst in. Then she narrowed her eyes at our frozen posture and rolled them with an impatient breath. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," I replied quickly, struck by her annoyed tone. I slid up the bed to sit against the wall, distancing myself from Evan. "What are you doing here?"



       
         
       
        

"I had to see the guy. Your text was pathetic," she accused. "Holy hotness. He is beautiful. I mean truly beu-ti-ful. Like the kind of beautiful they build statues to worship."

Evan looked at her in amusement. I shook my head with a roll of my eyes.

"How old is he, like twenty?"

"No," I replied like she was insane. "He's twenty-eight."

"Well, nicely done, Rachel," Sara stated enviously. "And just think, you'll get to see him like every day."

I widened my eyes, silently begging her to shut her mouth. Evan's troubled looked returned. Obviously, he did not share Sara's enthusiasm.





9. Just Not Right



"I'm not sure what I'm doing." My mother stared out the window while leaning against the counter.

I waited, but she didn't continue. So I prodded. "About what?"

"Jonathan."

I waited again, but she wouldn't say anything else. So I prodded a little more. "What about Jonathan?"

And that opened the flood gates. She spun around and spewed, "I'm not sure I'm ready for this. I haven't really dated a guy in a very long time. What if he doesn't really like me? What if he's too perfect for me? Look at him. He's so gorgeous; I have no idea what he's doing with me. I notice how the girls look at him. They're probably wondering the same thing. I don't think I can do this. I can't do this. Forget it, I'm ending it."

I stared at her, stunned, wondering if she'd taken a single breath during that whole explosive monologue.

"Wait," I said, shaking my head to decipher her dizzying words. "Did you just convince yourself to break things off with him in ten seconds flat?"

She sighed in defeat.

"First of all, do what feels right. If you're not ready, then you're not ready. But don't end things because you think he's too good for you," I scoffed. "Besides, he doesn't give another girl a second glance when he's with you. It was obvious last night. He's into you. So give him a chance if you want to, because you like him. And don't walk away because you're afraid to find out how much you may like him."

She exhaled audibly. "Thank you. I can't believe I'm getting relationship advice from my seventeen year-old daughter." She laughed. I couldn't believe I'd just given my mother a pep talk on dating―apparently I'd taken a page from Sara's book of straightforwardness.

"Okay, so I'm going to do this." She was convincing herself more than me. "Do you think it would be okay if he spent the night some time?" 

"Uh, sure," I stumbled, wondering how we'd gone from whether she should date him to when she was going to sleep with him.

"That wouldn't be too weird, right? I can make sure he leaves before you get up."

"It's okay," I answered slowly. Apparently she had no idea I'd already gone through this weirdness more than I cared to remember.

The next night, Jonathan was over watching a movie with my mother when I arrived home from Sara's. I didn't stop on my way up the stairs, not wanting to interrupt them.

"Hey, Emma," Jonathan acknowledged, despite my best effort to be invisible.

"Uh, hi," I returned, not looking back.

I stayed in my room for the night, reading. Without consciously meaning to, I'd find myself listening for the front door, indicating Jonathan had left. But I never heard it before I dozed off.



"Is she okay?"