Breathless
Page 10
“Nice to meet you.” A friendly smile curves Tate’s mouth, but it quickly flees when his eyes land on the open trunk with the luggage already piled inside.
“You’re leaving?” His gaze fastens on me and it’s like my parents aren’t even there. It’s just us.
Like last night, he stares at me, demands everything of me with a mere look. Only it’s a look that feels like a physical touch, the heavy pull of a current washing over me.
My mouth suddenly dries. “Yes.”
“I thought you would be here a few more weeks.”
“Change of plans.”
He shakes his head. “Why?” he demands, indifferent to our audience.
My parents look at me. I shift on my feet.
I can’t speak. Mom and Dad move off into the house, giving us privacy.
“Az.” He says my name softly. His deep voice slides through me.
“Where can this go, Tate?”
“I don’t know. But wouldn’t you like to find out?”
I shake my head, suddenly feeling like I’m caught up in a vortex, lost and directionless in blinding, dark waters, unsure which way is up and which way is down.
With a sigh, he drags a hand through his hair. He turns for the Jeep, then stops and walks back to me. “This is for you.” He thrusts the box into my hand before turning and climbing back into his car.
I stare down at it for several moments.
My mother’s hand falls on my shoulder. “That’s him, huh. Tate.” A statement. Not a question.
I nod.
“He seems quite … taken with you.”
“Yes. I think so.” I look up from the box. “He was.” Was. That word cuts me deep.
Dad’s sigh draws my attention. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes. Why do you both keep asking me that?”
He looks at Mom for a long moment before turning back at me. “Because you look miserable. We can stay another day … give you time to consider this.”
I stare at them, still so shocked that my normally protective parents would give me such autonomy. But then I remember their explanation. They know they can’t always be there to make decisions for me. I’m going to have to sprout my wings—no pun intended—and fly out on my own.
“I—” I stare into the distance, where Tate’s Jeep turns off the road and fades from sight. All of a sudden, my chest feels so tight it hurts—I imagine this is the sensation someone gets when they’re underwater for too long and out of breath. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a quick walk. Clear my head.”
“Sure. That sounds fine.” Mom smiles reassuringly and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “No hurry.”
I set off toward the dock and then veer off into the thick press of trees. It’s comfortingly familiar. It makes me think of home. The pride. The mists licking my skin. I pause, reveling in the wind and earth all around me … the smell of water so close.
I could leave now. Return to all that I know. All that I’ve ever known. Safety. Security. I halt abruptly. My hand reaches out for a tree as though I need to grasp it to steady myself.
What about my life is safe? I’m draki.
My entire life, my upbringing, my training, school … it’s all been to protect and defend my life and the lives of my kind. The threat of hunters, being captured, discovered … It’s always there, hovering like a dark cloud. Living with apprehension is nothing new. So why am I letting fear rule me now?
I look down at the small box in my hand, remembering it. I flip open the lid and gasp. I fall back against the tree, staring down at Tate’s shark-tooth necklace. The one that belonged to his mother. I pull it from the box with shaking fingers, emotions flooding me.
Blinking burning eyes, I push off from the tree, rushing blindly through the woods, a nameless force guiding me. I feel the water like my own heartbeat, hear it, inhale the crispness, the whiff of algae, sensing it before it ever comes into sight.
I burst from the trees into the clearing, jerking to a stop at the sight of the Jeep—the boy sitting on the shore. He’s here. Like I felt, like I knew he would be.
He twists around to see me.
“Az.” He moves to his feet in one easy motion. Everything about him is rigid, wound tight and alert as he gazes at me, his jaw locked. “I thought you were leaving.”
“I am.” Was …
“Then what are you doing here?”
My lips move, words forming, hanging. I don’t know. There’s no deliberation. No time to formulate. I can only stare. Only feel my heart beating wildly inside my chest. “I wanted to take a walk.”
“So you came here?”
My hands move, motion to the water. “This place has come to mean something to me.”
He looks to the water and back at me, his eyes burning and intense. “It means something to me, too.”
And I don’t think we’re talking about the pond anymore.
He takes one step for me, then stops, pulls up hard.
I shake my head, pressure building inside my chest like a dam ready to burst. I hold up the necklace, the shark tooth dangling in the air. “This means something to you, too.”
“Yes.”
“Then why give it to me?”
“I wanted you to have it. I don’t know … it felt right. Like giving it to you somehow makes sense, which I know doesn’t make any sense. Only it’s true.” He smiles crookedly and that dam breaks inside me. With a choked sound, I’m moving. My legs eat up the distance separating us.
He meets me halfway, his arms going around me. My hands fall to his chest, flatten there. His heart beats fast into my palm, almost like it’s rising up for me, reacting to my touch.
My eyes search his. “Tate …”
He brushes the hair back off my cheek. “Why are you running away?”
I inhale sharply though my nose and the breath is almost pained. He knows. He knows that I’m scared. That I’m running away from him. It’s not my overprotective parents. It’s me.
How does he know? How does he see me?
But isn’t that what you love about him? That he sees you? For the first time someone sees you....
“There are things about me …” Things you can never know. Things I can never share with you.
He slides his hands up my neck to my face. I lift my hands to hold on to his wrists. His thumbs press softly into my cheeks, locking me in place, holding me captive. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve known there’s something different, something special about you from that first day. And I know there’s stuff you’re not telling me, but I can deal with it. Maybe someday you’ll tell me. Until then I can wait.”
His thumbs move ever so slightly, grazing my sensitive skin in small circles, igniting liquid heat all through me.
“I’m not running,” he says. His eyes lock with mine, the rich, melting brown there challenging me to do the same. “I just want to be with you. I want to know you—however much you’ll let me see.”
I blink stinging eyes. “I’m not—”
His hands tighten on me, bringing my face so close that his lips brush mine as he pleads, “Don’t go.”
My skin constricts with the familiar snapping tension, but I don’t care. I don’t let it frighten me. The words burst from my lips in a low sigh of surrender against his mouth. “I won’t.”
And then his lips are on mine. Cool. Firm. Consuming, devouring me like he’s been waiting for this. For me.
I lean into him, moan into the kiss, realizing that I’ve been waiting, too. I’ve been waiting for this. For him.
We lower to the hard ground, indifferent to the dirt and twigs. Nothing has ever felt more comfortable or right. He lifts his head, smiling down at me, his hand still a delicious rasp on my face. “You’ll stay the month.”
I nod, letting happiness flood over me. No regret. “We’ll make every moment count.”
He takes the shark-tooth necklace from me and hooks it around my neck, his expression intense. “There.” He dips his head to kiss my jaw. “This month will hold us over until the next time we’re together. Because I doubt one month of you will ever be enough.”
I start to open my mouth to protest, to explain that we shouldn’t hope for anything more than this summer—that we definitely shouldn’t expect more—but then I stop, close my mouth with a snap. Because I doubt one month of him will be enough for me either.
Why couldn’t we see each other again? I’m not a prisoner. I’ll be on tour next summer.
He lifts his head and looks back down at me as if he senses I’ve reached some decision. Suddenly, in his eyes, I only see possibilities. Hope blossoms in my chest.
I lift my face and kiss him again, put everything into that kiss, every hope, every promise—to him and myself.
Fear won’t guide me. I will only follow my heart.
His arms pull me in, hug me closer, and I know it’s his promise to me, too.
EPILOGUE
One year later …
I fold the last item into my luggage and zip up the top with hands that tremble in excitement. Mom hollers from downstairs and my movements launch into high speed.
“I’ll be down in a second!”
Rushing to my desk, I start to shut down my laptop, but pause and reread the email open on my screen, sent at 11:47 PM last night.
Az, I’m counting the hours. I picked out a blue surfboard for you. Didn’t think anything else would work for my girl. I miss you. You know where I am.
Love,
T
My heart stutters a quick, happy beat inside my chest. I’ve read every email from Tate multiple times over the last year, but this one I’ve read and savored the most. I hardly fell asleep last night. I kept getting up to read Tate’s words. Our last correspondence before I actually see him again. Before we pick up where we left off in the summer … that glorious summer I’ve relived in my head all year, the memories sustaining me as I slid back into the routine of pride life.
I scan my room, take in the posters of the ocean. One-dimensional images. Suddenly they are a poor substitute for what’s coming.
Grabbing the handle of my luggage, I leave my room behind.
I’ll be there soon, my toes burrowing in the sand, my hair tangled in sea air, my skin tasting the ocean.
And Tate will be there, too.
“You’re leaving?” His gaze fastens on me and it’s like my parents aren’t even there. It’s just us.
Like last night, he stares at me, demands everything of me with a mere look. Only it’s a look that feels like a physical touch, the heavy pull of a current washing over me.
My mouth suddenly dries. “Yes.”
“I thought you would be here a few more weeks.”
“Change of plans.”
He shakes his head. “Why?” he demands, indifferent to our audience.
My parents look at me. I shift on my feet.
I can’t speak. Mom and Dad move off into the house, giving us privacy.
“Az.” He says my name softly. His deep voice slides through me.
“Where can this go, Tate?”
“I don’t know. But wouldn’t you like to find out?”
I shake my head, suddenly feeling like I’m caught up in a vortex, lost and directionless in blinding, dark waters, unsure which way is up and which way is down.
With a sigh, he drags a hand through his hair. He turns for the Jeep, then stops and walks back to me. “This is for you.” He thrusts the box into my hand before turning and climbing back into his car.
I stare down at it for several moments.
My mother’s hand falls on my shoulder. “That’s him, huh. Tate.” A statement. Not a question.
I nod.
“He seems quite … taken with you.”
“Yes. I think so.” I look up from the box. “He was.” Was. That word cuts me deep.
Dad’s sigh draws my attention. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes. Why do you both keep asking me that?”
He looks at Mom for a long moment before turning back at me. “Because you look miserable. We can stay another day … give you time to consider this.”
I stare at them, still so shocked that my normally protective parents would give me such autonomy. But then I remember their explanation. They know they can’t always be there to make decisions for me. I’m going to have to sprout my wings—no pun intended—and fly out on my own.
“I—” I stare into the distance, where Tate’s Jeep turns off the road and fades from sight. All of a sudden, my chest feels so tight it hurts—I imagine this is the sensation someone gets when they’re underwater for too long and out of breath. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a quick walk. Clear my head.”
“Sure. That sounds fine.” Mom smiles reassuringly and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “No hurry.”
I set off toward the dock and then veer off into the thick press of trees. It’s comfortingly familiar. It makes me think of home. The pride. The mists licking my skin. I pause, reveling in the wind and earth all around me … the smell of water so close.
I could leave now. Return to all that I know. All that I’ve ever known. Safety. Security. I halt abruptly. My hand reaches out for a tree as though I need to grasp it to steady myself.
What about my life is safe? I’m draki.
My entire life, my upbringing, my training, school … it’s all been to protect and defend my life and the lives of my kind. The threat of hunters, being captured, discovered … It’s always there, hovering like a dark cloud. Living with apprehension is nothing new. So why am I letting fear rule me now?
I look down at the small box in my hand, remembering it. I flip open the lid and gasp. I fall back against the tree, staring down at Tate’s shark-tooth necklace. The one that belonged to his mother. I pull it from the box with shaking fingers, emotions flooding me.
Blinking burning eyes, I push off from the tree, rushing blindly through the woods, a nameless force guiding me. I feel the water like my own heartbeat, hear it, inhale the crispness, the whiff of algae, sensing it before it ever comes into sight.
I burst from the trees into the clearing, jerking to a stop at the sight of the Jeep—the boy sitting on the shore. He’s here. Like I felt, like I knew he would be.
He twists around to see me.
“Az.” He moves to his feet in one easy motion. Everything about him is rigid, wound tight and alert as he gazes at me, his jaw locked. “I thought you were leaving.”
“I am.” Was …
“Then what are you doing here?”
My lips move, words forming, hanging. I don’t know. There’s no deliberation. No time to formulate. I can only stare. Only feel my heart beating wildly inside my chest. “I wanted to take a walk.”
“So you came here?”
My hands move, motion to the water. “This place has come to mean something to me.”
He looks to the water and back at me, his eyes burning and intense. “It means something to me, too.”
And I don’t think we’re talking about the pond anymore.
He takes one step for me, then stops, pulls up hard.
I shake my head, pressure building inside my chest like a dam ready to burst. I hold up the necklace, the shark tooth dangling in the air. “This means something to you, too.”
“Yes.”
“Then why give it to me?”
“I wanted you to have it. I don’t know … it felt right. Like giving it to you somehow makes sense, which I know doesn’t make any sense. Only it’s true.” He smiles crookedly and that dam breaks inside me. With a choked sound, I’m moving. My legs eat up the distance separating us.
He meets me halfway, his arms going around me. My hands fall to his chest, flatten there. His heart beats fast into my palm, almost like it’s rising up for me, reacting to my touch.
My eyes search his. “Tate …”
He brushes the hair back off my cheek. “Why are you running away?”
I inhale sharply though my nose and the breath is almost pained. He knows. He knows that I’m scared. That I’m running away from him. It’s not my overprotective parents. It’s me.
How does he know? How does he see me?
But isn’t that what you love about him? That he sees you? For the first time someone sees you....
“There are things about me …” Things you can never know. Things I can never share with you.
He slides his hands up my neck to my face. I lift my hands to hold on to his wrists. His thumbs press softly into my cheeks, locking me in place, holding me captive. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve known there’s something different, something special about you from that first day. And I know there’s stuff you’re not telling me, but I can deal with it. Maybe someday you’ll tell me. Until then I can wait.”
His thumbs move ever so slightly, grazing my sensitive skin in small circles, igniting liquid heat all through me.
“I’m not running,” he says. His eyes lock with mine, the rich, melting brown there challenging me to do the same. “I just want to be with you. I want to know you—however much you’ll let me see.”
I blink stinging eyes. “I’m not—”
His hands tighten on me, bringing my face so close that his lips brush mine as he pleads, “Don’t go.”
My skin constricts with the familiar snapping tension, but I don’t care. I don’t let it frighten me. The words burst from my lips in a low sigh of surrender against his mouth. “I won’t.”
And then his lips are on mine. Cool. Firm. Consuming, devouring me like he’s been waiting for this. For me.
I lean into him, moan into the kiss, realizing that I’ve been waiting, too. I’ve been waiting for this. For him.
We lower to the hard ground, indifferent to the dirt and twigs. Nothing has ever felt more comfortable or right. He lifts his head, smiling down at me, his hand still a delicious rasp on my face. “You’ll stay the month.”
I nod, letting happiness flood over me. No regret. “We’ll make every moment count.”
He takes the shark-tooth necklace from me and hooks it around my neck, his expression intense. “There.” He dips his head to kiss my jaw. “This month will hold us over until the next time we’re together. Because I doubt one month of you will ever be enough.”
I start to open my mouth to protest, to explain that we shouldn’t hope for anything more than this summer—that we definitely shouldn’t expect more—but then I stop, close my mouth with a snap. Because I doubt one month of him will be enough for me either.
Why couldn’t we see each other again? I’m not a prisoner. I’ll be on tour next summer.
He lifts his head and looks back down at me as if he senses I’ve reached some decision. Suddenly, in his eyes, I only see possibilities. Hope blossoms in my chest.
I lift my face and kiss him again, put everything into that kiss, every hope, every promise—to him and myself.
Fear won’t guide me. I will only follow my heart.
His arms pull me in, hug me closer, and I know it’s his promise to me, too.
EPILOGUE
One year later …
I fold the last item into my luggage and zip up the top with hands that tremble in excitement. Mom hollers from downstairs and my movements launch into high speed.
“I’ll be down in a second!”
Rushing to my desk, I start to shut down my laptop, but pause and reread the email open on my screen, sent at 11:47 PM last night.
Az, I’m counting the hours. I picked out a blue surfboard for you. Didn’t think anything else would work for my girl. I miss you. You know where I am.
Love,
T
My heart stutters a quick, happy beat inside my chest. I’ve read every email from Tate multiple times over the last year, but this one I’ve read and savored the most. I hardly fell asleep last night. I kept getting up to read Tate’s words. Our last correspondence before I actually see him again. Before we pick up where we left off in the summer … that glorious summer I’ve relived in my head all year, the memories sustaining me as I slid back into the routine of pride life.
I scan my room, take in the posters of the ocean. One-dimensional images. Suddenly they are a poor substitute for what’s coming.
Grabbing the handle of my luggage, I leave my room behind.
I’ll be there soon, my toes burrowing in the sand, my hair tangled in sea air, my skin tasting the ocean.
And Tate will be there, too.
