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Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(34)

By:Rebecca Donovan


I took off most of my snow caked clothes in the foyer, exposing pale legs that were now bright red. Sneaking up the stairs, I placed my crystallized items in the bath tub, readied for bed and snuggled in under the blankets, shivering.

I looked across at Sara's bed. She looked so peaceful, like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. I just wanted her back.

My phone beeped next to my head, and I picked it up to read, Don't worry. We'll fix her.





10. Distraction



When I awoke, Sara's bed was tossed and vacant. I found her in the rec room, scowling over a bowl of cereal, watching a syndicated reality television show. I left her to fester, assuming she hadn't seen the snowman yet.

I walked down the stairs and peeked out the window that overlooked the front lawn. As I was about to walk to the kitchen, what I had seen struck me. I opened the front door and stared at the sad image. Shutting the door with a grunt, I stormed up the stairs.

"What did you do to the snowman?" I demanded from atop the stairs.

"I kicked it in the face," she answered, continuing to watch the television without a blink.

I went into the bedroom and got dressed, grabbed my things and left without a word. I couldn't look at the pathetic dilapidated head lolling on the ground as I backed out of the driveway. I clenched my teeth in aggravation and drove away.

I couldn't respond to Evan's So what happened? text. I just wanted to get away from the miserable girl who had overtaken Sara's body.

The front door was unlocked when I arrived home, but there didn't seem to be anyone there. My mother's car was still in the driveway covered with a dusting of snow, and the kitchen light was on, but the house was quiet as I kicked off my boots and shed my jacket.

I froze when I pushed my door open and found Jonathan at my desk. The squeak of the hinges made him spin around with a start.

"Emma, hi," he greeted with an inflated smile, like he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't.

I was so shocked to find him in my room, I couldn't say anything.

"You scared me," he recovered with a laugh, and then explained nonchalantly, "Rachel said to use your computer to check my email. Sorry. I obviously freaked you out."

His words shook me from my gaping expression. "It's okay," I assured him slowly, my cheeks warming at my overreaction.

"Are you sure?" he asked, clenching his teeth with a grimace. "You don't look okay."

"Really, it's fine," I repeated, easing the tension in my shoulders.

"So, did you check it?" I finally asked.

"What?"

"Your email," I emphasized with a laugh, recognizing how ridiculous we were both acting.

"Oh, yeah. I did," he fumbled, folding down the laptop before standing up. "I was about to leave but noticed the pictures. You play soccer too?"

"Yeah. I'm better at it than basketball," I replied, setting my backpack on the floor at the foot of my bed.

"You were quite amazing last night," he admired, making me shift uncomfortably. "So if you're better at soccer, then I would definitely want to see that."



       
         
       
        

"Well, it's paying for me to go to Stanford," I admitted, embarrassed embers lighting up my cheeks.

"Do you always turn this red?" he asked, examining my face.

"Usually," I admitted, my eyes drifting toward the floor.

"Sorry," he chuckled. "It's... cute."

My breath faltered for a second.

"Thanks for letting me use your computer."

"Any time," I nodded, still unable to meet his gaze without my face flaming up.

He paused before continuing. "I've been meaning to say something, but … "

"What?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

"I'm really sorry about the first time we met. Rachel said you were going out and to just come in. I really didn't mean to walk in on you like that. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me."

And just like that, it was even more uncomfortable. I nodded not sure what to say, wishing he'd never brought it up.

"I just made it awkward, didn't I?"

Of course, my glowing cheeks gave that away.

"Umm …  a little," I admitted with a half grin.

"Sorry," he grimaced. "That's not what I wanted to do. Wow, I'm usually not so bad at this."

I couldn't help but smile at the falter in his confidence. With that one sentence, he had just become a little more, well, like me.

"What?" he asked, his eyes searching mine. "Did I say something wrong again?"

"No," I answered, connecting with his dark brown eyes with a slight smile, making the corners of his mouth curve as well.