Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(31)

"Yeah." I glanced up to catch his eye as he nodded with a smile. My mother took his hand and blended in with the remaining fans exiting the gym.

"Who was that?"

I turned to find Jill and Casey standing behind me, practically drooling.

"My mother," I responded casually, knowing exactly who they meant. That's when it occurred to me why I'd been so uncomfortable. Every girl in the school was ogling over him as he and my mother made their way out of the gym. It was kinda pathetic.

"And he's her boyfriend?" Jill asked, still gawking after his perfectly placed hair.

"I guess," I mumbled, shaking my head as they practically melted in front of me. I grabbed my warm ups and stranded them by the bench, staring.



"And why did you tell Evan he couldn't hang out with us at the party?" I asked when we pulled out of the school parking lot.

"I need girl time," Sara explained briefly. "And besides, does he always have to hang out with us?" 

"We're going to a party," I pointed out bluntly. "If you want girl time then we should do something else. And no, he does not always have to hang out with us, and he doesn't. Did he do something wrong? What's going on with you? You've been acting kinda strange lately."

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine," she sighed impatiently. Her perpetual bad mood was so very confusing, and far from resembling my best friend―it was freaking me out. And what, if anything, did it have to do with Evan?

We walked in the side door between the house and the garage. Bass boomed from the basement; laughter and hollering could be heard further down the hall. This house was modest compared to some of the monstrosities in Weslyn. We were considered on "the other side of town," closer to where I used to live.

We ventured toward the laughter to find a group sitting around the kitchen table with cards in their hands and red cups in front of them, demanding one another to drink for various absurd reasons. There were others crammed into the small kitchen, either leaning against the Formica counters or passing through to get to the keg.

Sara made her way to the back porch where the keg rested in a trash can filled with snow.

"Can you stay over tonight?" she asked before taking a cup from the stack.

"Sure," I replied with a shrug, hugging myself with a shiver. I texted my mother as we walked back through the kitchen, then followed Sara down the shag carpeted stairs to the basement. I stopped at the bottom when I saw Evan playing pool to the right and hesitated long enough to wave and apologize with a grimace as I continued after Sara in the other direction. We walked into a small, wood paneled space with a beat up couch covered in multi-colored afghans and a console television pushed into a hollowed out fireplace.

Mandy Cochran smiled at the sight of us, shuffling through the bodies to get to where we stood, while Sara inspected the scene. I didn't really know Mandy; she played volleyball with Sara. But this was her house, so I knew we should at least make an effort to say hi.

Sara scanned the room, not thrilled with what she saw. "Back upstairs," she insisted, completely ignoring Mandy. My face twitched in confusion, but I followed after her anyway. I held up my hand to wave in apology when I saw Mandy's smile fade as she watched us disappear up the stairs.

By the time we were back in the kitchen, Sara needed a refill. Instead of following her out to the deck like a pathetic sidekick, I took a seat on a wooden stool next to the kitchen counter. I watched the card game, trying to figure out the rules and if there was a point to the absurdity. I quickly discovered there really wasn't a point―it was all about getting drunk and making people do stupid things in the process. I sighed and shook my head.

"Hey, I didn't know you were going to be here," Jill exclaimed when she and Casey walked into the kitchen with pink bottles in their hands. "Where's Evan?"

"I don't know," I replied, making a face―finding it strange that was the first question they asked. "I'm here with Sara."

"Ooh, are you fighting?" Casey pursued, leaning in like she was about to hear a secret.

"No," I answered, drawing out the "o" and looking at them like they were crazy. "I think he's downstairs playing pool."

"So what do you know about your mother's hot boyfriend?" Jill drilled.

"Not much," I replied shortly, annoyed with the question.

"I think he may be hotter than Evan," Casey interjected.

"No," Jill argued, then paused and said, "Okay, maybe."

"Seriously?!" I finally interrupted, wanting to put an end to the conversation.