Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(63)

"It's a college textbook," Sara explained casually. "Thought you might appreciate the technical explanations versus the Cosmo version―you know, the science behind it."

"Uh, thanks." I went to shove it in my locker and it fell to the floor, spreading open with the spine up.

"Here," Evan said, bending down to pick up the splayed textbook. I scooped it up before he could touch it, my pulse racing so fast I couldn't talk.

"What was that?" he questioned, when I stuffed it in my backpack.

"Just pointers on how to pleasure you," Sara whispered with a smirk before walking away. I about fell over. I looked up at Evan with my mouth dropped open. He arched a brow curiously.

"Really?"

"We're going to be late for class," I rushed, slamming my locker door shut. My heart was pounding so hard I was beginning to sweat. He let out an amused laugh and followed after me.



"You don't need the textbook," Evan murmured in my ear from his stool beside me.

"Evan!" I strained in a whisper with wide eyes.

"Sara has no idea, does she?" he continued with a sly grin.

"We are not talking about this," I stated adamantly, burying my fiery face in my hands. He chuckled.

"Good afternoon," Ms. Mier greeted from the front of the class, setting a large piece of wood on an easel. "Today we are going to create visual art using nails." On the board was a profile of a woman created with various oxidized nails pounded into the wood at different depths and angles to create a three dimensional work of art. I was fascinated by the technique―the way the nails created the slope of her cheek bone and tilt of her nose. 

"I've laid out boxes of nails for you to work with. You can each select a plank of wood and a hammer to get started."

"I can guarantee I'll have a purple thumb by the end of this assignment," I commented, turning towards Evan. He nodded, not looking at me.

We retrieved the supplies from the front of the classroom. I was considering what I wanted to create while filling my bowl with nails.

When I got back to the stool, Evan had the hammer balanced in his hand―examining it like he'd never seen one before. He ran his eyes over it, appearing a million miles away.

"Evan?" I sat down and tilted my head toward him to look up at his face. "Evan, are you okay?"

He was pale and wouldn't focus on me. "Evan, what's wrong?"

Without a word, he set down the hammer and left the room. It took me a moment to realize he'd just walked out. I rushed to the door to go after him, but he wasn't in the hall. I stood in the middle of the corridor, at a complete loss.

I returned to the Art room and slowly lowered onto my stool.

"Is everything okay with Evan?" Ms. Mier questioned when she came around and found Evan's spot vacant.

I don't know," I answered honestly. I didn't make much progress with the assignment because I kept watching the door, waiting for him to return. He never came back.

Evan wasn't at my locker after class either. I took my phone out of my backpack and texted, Where are you? Are you okay?

I set the phone to vibrate and stuffed it in the front pocket of my jeans, pulling my sweater over it so my Calculus teacher wouldn't see it.

Halfway through class, my phone vibrated. I slipped it out and held it under my desk to read, Not feeling great―went home

I read it again, baffled.

Want me to come by after practice?

Evan responded, No. See you tomorrow OK?

Nothing about this felt right. He hadn't seemed sick all day. I was obviously missing something, but I didn't know what else to think so I typed, Okay.

"I'm going to go home after practice tonight," I told Sara as we gathered our things at the end of the day.

"Everything okay?" she asked, taking in my somber mood.

"I hope so," I answered before shutting my locker door. "I'll call you later."

"Alright," she answered, studying me as I skulked away.



I called Evan as soon as I got in my car after practice. He didn't answer. I was wrecked with worry by the time I got home, my stomach twisted into knots.

"Maybe he's really sick," Sara consoled when I called.

"Maybe," I agreed, but I didn't really believe it.

"Don't start overthinking like you do."

I won't," I assured her, but I'd already gone there―replaying everything he and I said throughout the entire day. I still couldn't figure out what would've caused him to leave school so suddenly. Something must have happened in those few minutes I was away from him in the Art room. Maybe he got a text that I didn't see? Whatever it was, it was sudden, and he wasn't sharing.

"We'll see if he's in school tomorrow. Text me if your brain hijacks you and you need to vent."