Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(65)

I almost asked what it was the kept him up most nights, but then again, I wasn't sure I wanted to know what it was that made him suddenly so... hateful. He looked like a different person―a person I didn't want to know. I pulled my legs in tighter to ward off the frigidness.

Jonathan faced me, his lips turned up and his eyes creased around the edge―instantly returned to the guy who started a squirt gun fight. I wanted to shake my head, wondering if I'd just imagined the transformation. Maybe it was the lighting, and my lack of sleep, messing with me.

I pulled the blanket further up under my nose. "I just want to sleep," I murmured, my eyes burning with fatigue.

"I know," Jonathan yawned.

We returned our attention to the movie. My lids were getting heavy, harder to blink open. I was thinking about going back to bed when he asked, "So, do you need any guy advice?"

Sleep was instantly wiped from my eyes as color rushed to my cheeks. "Don't even start," I threatened, sitting up and hitting him with the pillow. He held up his hands to ward of the blow and started laughing.

"You should have seen your face when my mother offered to give you the talk," he chuckled. "I was trying so hard not to laugh." His chest spasmed with laughter.

"Oh, yeah, that was hilarious," I shot back. "Can we please not talk about one of the more humiliating moments of my life?"

Jonathan smiled widely, his perfectly straight teeth gleaming in the low light. "Sorry."

"Are those real?" I blurted without thinking.

"What?" he asked, completely perplexed.

"Your teeth," I continued to stare. They seemed too white in this low light, and too straight. I couldn't stop looking at them. A true indication that I needed to go to bed.




       
         
       
        
"That was a rather bizarre change of subject," he noted in amusement. "And yes, they're real. After years of braces, of course, but they're mine." He shook his head, still grinning.

"What?" I pushed, not sure why I wanted to know what kept the grin on his face. But I asked anyway.

"Forget it," he played, "you don't want to talk about it."

I rolled my eyes. "My personal life is not up for conversation."

"Not your personal life," he corrected, "your sex life."

"I don't have a sex life," I retorted quickly, my face flushing as soon as I said it.

Jonathan laughed again. "I know."

I buried my head under the pillow and groaned.

"Why is everyone making such a big deal about it?" I murmured from beneath the pillow.

"Because it is a big deal," Jonathan responded bluntly. His tone lost its humor when he confirmed, "But you're serious, right? You and Evan?"

I peeked out from under the pillow and found him waiting for me to answer. I nodded.

"And what's going to happen when you go to Stanford?"

"Hopefully he's coming with me," I answered, sitting up and smoothing the hair that was floating around my head.

Jonathan nodded. "He's as smart as you?"

"Pretty much. He also has some influence that I don't."

"Money," Jonathan concluded with a smirk.

I shrugged. "Part of it."

"And powerful parents," he added. He didn't even wait for me to answer. "Do they want him going to Stanford with you?"

I looked down, not wanting to think about Stuart's harsh words on New Year's Eve.

"Aahh," Jonathan surmised. "Not so much."

"It's his dad," I explained lowly. "He doesn't exactly approve of me."

"Not approve of you?" he laughed like that was completely ridiculous. "It's probably the money. I know that dad. But I went to college with her anyway."

His words caught my attention. He nodded guiltily. "I did it too. Fell in love with the rich girl. Her parents approved of me enough, until they realized how serious we were. But we went to Penn State together anyway, even though I really wanted to get as far away from this area as possible―and Pennsylvania was still too close." He took a deep breath. "I shouldn't have stayed."

"You broke up," I concluded, even though the answer was obvious since he was now dating my mother.

"Something like that," he grinned, the smile not reaching his eyes. I could tell by his uneasiness that the emotion was still raw, even after all these years. "College is... different." 

I waited, not sure if I should ask him to continue―but wanting to know the story.

Jonathan gripped the blanket and looked toward the dark foyer. I could tell he was thinking about it, what happened between them.