Breathe with Me
Page 10
“So what?” He shrugs. “You’re not babies now. If you still feel something, why not call him? Get to know each other. Maybe you’ll discover that he turned into an asshole and you can put the whole thing to rest.”
“He’s not an asshole,” I reply with a laugh. “That I know for sure. Mom wouldn’t have loved an asshole.”
“Look, the way you explained it to me that time we got drunk and poured our hearts out to each other that night we both blew the Annie audition, you were the one to break his heart, not the other way around. So, if he’s willing to give it another shot, maybe you should give it a shot too.”
“Who are you? Dr. Phil?”
“I’m much better looking than Dr. Phil,” he replies. “Don’t insult me.”
“I’m busy with the studio now. Business is crazy and I’m taking on more one-on-one clients too, and you’re starting that choreography job at the university soon.” I sound like an idiot to my own ears.
“Is it the sex you’re worried about?” he asks with a smart-assy frown. “Here, I’ll help. Sex 101.”
“Stop it.” I giggle and kick out at him, missing him by a good eight feet.
“How to give a hand job.”
“Stop talking!” I am laughing hard now, loving Jax for being fun and hilarious.
“Step one: use your mouth.”
“Oh my God!” I laugh and laugh and Jax joins me, flashing that perfect, white smile.
“I’m not worried about the sex.” Not very worried.
“It’s been a while for you. I understand.”
I stick my tongue out at him and watch as he starts to laugh again.
“I’m so happy that I amuse you.”
“You do, cupcake. You really do.” He takes a deep breath and then sobers. “Call him. You could use a little excitement in your life.”
“Maybe.” I pull the throw pillow against my chest and sigh. “I’ll think about it.”
“Think about getting some new throw pillows while you’re at it. Those are hideous.”
“I told you that we could go furniture shopping whenever you want.”
“Okay, we’ll go this weekend then.”
I nod, then climb to my feet and stretch my arms over my head. “I’m going to take a shower and call it a night.”
“Running with me in the morning?”
“Yeah. Wake me up.”
“Set your fucking alarm. You throw shit at me when I wake you up.”
I wave at him and walk away without answering. He’ll wake me up. He does every morning.
The shower is hot and perfect and I stay under the water a good ten minutes longer than I need to before washing my face, shaving my legs and turning the water off.
I dry my body, blow my hair dry and pull on a tank and short shorts before climbing onto my bed and tug my iPad to me to go over the schedule for the rest of the month.
My phone is mocking me. Mark’s number is right there. How many times over the past ten years did I lie in bed at night and wish with all my might that I could call him and hear his voice just once?
After two years I mustered up all of the nerve I could and dialed his number, but it had been disconnected.
And now I have his number and he encouraged me to call.
I bite my lip and lift my phone, staring at his number in my contacts. He not only punched in his number, but instead of typing in his whole name, it just says, M.
I swear I can hear my mother in my head saying, “You only live once, baby girl. Just call the boy.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I press the green send button and hold my breath as I wait for him to answer.
But he doesn’t. An automated voice comes on the line saying that the person at this number isn’t available.
I end the call rather than leave a message. My shoulders sag in disappointment, but I shrug one shoulder and set my phone aside then return my concentration on my iPad.
Less than one minute later, my phone rings.
M.
“Hello?”
“Tell me this is Meredith,” he says. He’s panting and I can’t help but wonder what he’s been doing.
Or who.
“What if I say it’s not Meredith?” I ask with a grin.
“Then I’ll be pissed that I ran away from remodeling my bathroom to call this number back. I need my shower back.”
I have a shower you can use.
I almost say it out loud but catch myself. We’re not there yet.
“Remodeling your bathroom, are you?”
“So this is Meredith then?”
“Like you couldn’t recognize my voice.”
He chuckles and I hear him swallowing. God, I bet his throat looks amazing when he drinks water.
“You said I should call,” I begin a bit uncertainly.
“Yes, I did. Do you have plans tonight?”
I look around my bedroom and laugh in spite of myself. “Yes, I’m in bed working.”
“Hmm, dancing in bed is always fun.”
“No, the business side of it, funny guy.” Oh, how I’ve missed this funny side of him. “I was going to call it an early night.”
“Running in the morning?”
“You remember my running routine?” I ask in surprise.
“I remember everything, M.”
I bite my lip as tears fill my eyes. “Me too.”
“I work tomorrow,” he mutters and I can just hear the wheels turning in his head. “But I am free tomorrow night and I have the day after off.”
“He’s not an asshole,” I reply with a laugh. “That I know for sure. Mom wouldn’t have loved an asshole.”
“Look, the way you explained it to me that time we got drunk and poured our hearts out to each other that night we both blew the Annie audition, you were the one to break his heart, not the other way around. So, if he’s willing to give it another shot, maybe you should give it a shot too.”
“Who are you? Dr. Phil?”
“I’m much better looking than Dr. Phil,” he replies. “Don’t insult me.”
“I’m busy with the studio now. Business is crazy and I’m taking on more one-on-one clients too, and you’re starting that choreography job at the university soon.” I sound like an idiot to my own ears.
“Is it the sex you’re worried about?” he asks with a smart-assy frown. “Here, I’ll help. Sex 101.”
“Stop it.” I giggle and kick out at him, missing him by a good eight feet.
“How to give a hand job.”
“Stop talking!” I am laughing hard now, loving Jax for being fun and hilarious.
“Step one: use your mouth.”
“Oh my God!” I laugh and laugh and Jax joins me, flashing that perfect, white smile.
“I’m not worried about the sex.” Not very worried.
“It’s been a while for you. I understand.”
I stick my tongue out at him and watch as he starts to laugh again.
“I’m so happy that I amuse you.”
“You do, cupcake. You really do.” He takes a deep breath and then sobers. “Call him. You could use a little excitement in your life.”
“Maybe.” I pull the throw pillow against my chest and sigh. “I’ll think about it.”
“Think about getting some new throw pillows while you’re at it. Those are hideous.”
“I told you that we could go furniture shopping whenever you want.”
“Okay, we’ll go this weekend then.”
I nod, then climb to my feet and stretch my arms over my head. “I’m going to take a shower and call it a night.”
“Running with me in the morning?”
“Yeah. Wake me up.”
“Set your fucking alarm. You throw shit at me when I wake you up.”
I wave at him and walk away without answering. He’ll wake me up. He does every morning.
The shower is hot and perfect and I stay under the water a good ten minutes longer than I need to before washing my face, shaving my legs and turning the water off.
I dry my body, blow my hair dry and pull on a tank and short shorts before climbing onto my bed and tug my iPad to me to go over the schedule for the rest of the month.
My phone is mocking me. Mark’s number is right there. How many times over the past ten years did I lie in bed at night and wish with all my might that I could call him and hear his voice just once?
After two years I mustered up all of the nerve I could and dialed his number, but it had been disconnected.
And now I have his number and he encouraged me to call.
I bite my lip and lift my phone, staring at his number in my contacts. He not only punched in his number, but instead of typing in his whole name, it just says, M.
I swear I can hear my mother in my head saying, “You only live once, baby girl. Just call the boy.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I press the green send button and hold my breath as I wait for him to answer.
But he doesn’t. An automated voice comes on the line saying that the person at this number isn’t available.
I end the call rather than leave a message. My shoulders sag in disappointment, but I shrug one shoulder and set my phone aside then return my concentration on my iPad.
Less than one minute later, my phone rings.
M.
“Hello?”
“Tell me this is Meredith,” he says. He’s panting and I can’t help but wonder what he’s been doing.
Or who.
“What if I say it’s not Meredith?” I ask with a grin.
“Then I’ll be pissed that I ran away from remodeling my bathroom to call this number back. I need my shower back.”
I have a shower you can use.
I almost say it out loud but catch myself. We’re not there yet.
“Remodeling your bathroom, are you?”
“So this is Meredith then?”
“Like you couldn’t recognize my voice.”
He chuckles and I hear him swallowing. God, I bet his throat looks amazing when he drinks water.
“You said I should call,” I begin a bit uncertainly.
“Yes, I did. Do you have plans tonight?”
I look around my bedroom and laugh in spite of myself. “Yes, I’m in bed working.”
“Hmm, dancing in bed is always fun.”
“No, the business side of it, funny guy.” Oh, how I’ve missed this funny side of him. “I was going to call it an early night.”
“Running in the morning?”
“You remember my running routine?” I ask in surprise.
“I remember everything, M.”
I bite my lip as tears fill my eyes. “Me too.”
“I work tomorrow,” he mutters and I can just hear the wheels turning in his head. “But I am free tomorrow night and I have the day after off.”
