Inhale, Exhale

by Matthews, C. L.

  I’m not letting go.

  I’m not letting her go.

  “Lo,” I say, liking the way her shortened name sounds coming from me. “I want this.”

  “I like that,” she responds. “Lo.” She winks at me, as if there’s a joke there, like she didn’t just deflect my statement on purpose. “And I want this too.”

  Before I can smile and rebut, she brings her lips to mine. Instead of passionate battles of the tongues, it’s over almost as fast as it started. She lifts herself off my lap, and I glimpse cheeky boy shorts beneath her skirt and feel heat rush through me again.

  Jason Collins dating before other shit? Yeah, I didn’t think I’d see the day either.

  “Bye, Jase.” She waves a little, blowing me a kiss and walking out of the locker room.

  Did that really just happen?

  chapter seven

  Two weeks later

  Jase

  After my ankle is bearable to walk on, I decide to go to her house. I didn’t end up having a fracture in my ankle but a fairly bad sprain. She has no clue I’m coming. Wanting to make the best impression on her mom, not like the Neanderthal people think I am, I wear jeans and a long Henley. As I make my way through the knee-high vinyl gate, I try to form the words and not sound ridiculous. It’s hard. She makes me feel things—things no other girl has ever made me feel. I’m not this guy, never have been, but she’s different, and I don’t know why.

  An older lady with dark hair like Loren’s, but cropped at her shoulders, opens the door. Must be her mother. She even has the same color eyes as Lo, her cheekbones and smile are all her daughter too.

  “Yes?” she asks kindly, her eyes full of warmth, unlike my mother these days.

  “Hello, ma’am,” I start, trying to appear like my charming self rather than the nervous teen about to ask her daughter on a date. “Is Loren here by any chance?” I smile for good measure.

  Her eyes twinkle with an awareness that has me as curious as it does nervous.

  “Ren, honey! It’s for you!” she yells out and then turns back to me. “Come on in.”

  She opens the door wider, allowing me to enter. My heart practically leaps out of my chest in anticipation. I’ve wanted to ask her out for over a week, but she’s been avoiding me. Other than class today, she’s sat away from me, almost like she regretted agreeing to a date.

  “Is it Toby?” a younger teen asks, coming from around the corner.

  His eyes meet mine with annoyance and disappointment, and I wonder why. I peer at him curiously. A brother? And he knows mine?

  “No, his brother,” I offer, unable to keep my smile away from the disapproving glare he returns.

  “Jason,” he mutters in apprehension.

  I have a sneaking suspicion my brother has spoken of me, and not in any good ways.

  “That’s me,” I return, raising my eyebrows since he already knows my name. “You know Tobe?”

  “He’s... Yeah, he’s cool.” He heads up the stairs.

  Awkward, but okay.

  As first impressions go, Lo’s little brother must not like me much, but I’m here for her, and a little dislike on anyone’s end won’t deter me.

  Feet nearly stomp down the stairs, and a frown suddenly turns into a half-smile. “Jason,” she muses. She bites that succulent bottom lip of hers. “Whatcha doing here?”

  Her normal sureness is nowhere to be found, and I find myself wanting to see that more, see her soft side, see the person she hides behind the bravado of carelessness.

  I stride to her, closing the five-foot gap. Stroking my hand down her cheek, I grip her chin, angling her jaw to kiss those lips she won’t stop nibbling on. Before I get the chance, a throat clears, and I’m stuck in an awkward pose.

  “Ren, honey, can you tell your father that dinner is almost ready?” Lo’s mom commands gently.

  Her eyes widen as she stares agape at her mom and then nods, leaving me in the worst situation possible.

  “And you,” she comments, as if unsure of how to proceed, “would you like to stay for dinner?”

  I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling dry.

  “I actually came here to ask Lo on a date,” I say, lacking my usual bravado. I’m nervous, and this woman looks tough and no bullshit-like.

  “Really?” she enunciates, her eyebrows nearly touching her hairline. “Ren doesn’t date. Actually, my little girl doesn’t even speak to boys—other than Tobias, that is.”

  “She does now,” I tease, feeling like myself. “It’s... She’s different.” I don’t know why I opened to her at all, but I do. “She makes me want to be a better person, and that’s hard to find.”

  A smile tilts at her lips. She has a new light in her eyes, almost as if she realizes I’m not a tool. I am, just not to Lo. Never to her.

  “Then, I give you permission to try.” She laughs at the final word, and I’m sure I’ll soon find out what she means by try. She turns away and walks toward the dining room. “Go ahead. Try. Ask her.”

  “Ask me what?” Lo questions, rounding the corner.

  Suddenly, I feel like I can’t speak, like my tongue is swollen and full of everything I can’t say, but when she stares almost as nervously as me, it melts that scared part of me, the one afraid to trust, afraid to give into happiness.

  “A date,” I admit, moving a stray hair from her face. “Go out with me... tonight.”

  Her eyes meet mine with apprehension. She already said she would, and now’s the time.

  “No.”

  It’s a simple one-word answer, but it almost steals the oxygen from my lungs. No? No one has ever said no, but I can count the number of dates I’ve been on in one hand.

  Two. I’ve been on a total of two dates.

  It’s like she sees my struggle, honing in on me, reading me. “Not yet,” she clarifies with a soft smile. “Come back tomorrow, Jason.” She leans into me next to my ear. “Don’t give up yet.” Then she lays the gentlest kiss on my cheek and walks away.

  Do I stay? Do I leave? This is new territory for me.

  “Jason,” Lo’s mom calls out, “eat with us.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Tanner.”

  “Please, it’s Anise.”

  My face heats, whether in embarrassment or warmth I’m not entirely sure, but I head into the kitchen, and soon, she’s having me set the table.

  It’s nice. I’ve never had this... people who care.

  “So, Jason,” Anise begins, stirring the pasta in the large pot but keeping her eyes on me. “How long have you known Ren?”

  “Jase is fine. Only my mom and stepdad call me Jason, and only when they’re angry with me.”

  She beams. “Okay, Jase. Well?”

  “We’ve just met. Immediately, I wanted to know her.”

  “Ah, love’s first kiss.”

  “W-we—”

  “It’s just a phrase. Calm down. Plus, Loren isn’t one for secrets.”

  When I peek at Lo, she flames. Her face reddens beyond coral, treading onto a dark rose tint.

  “I’m smitten,” I reply, smirking at Lo because of how uncomfortable she is. If at all possible, her blush deepens.

  “Aw,” Anise responds, gripping her chest. “I love young love.”

  I wanted to correct her and tell her love isn’t possible this fast, but in a way, it’s untrue. This is strong. It’s intense, and even if cheesy, it’s exactly how I felt at the party last summer.

  She sucked me in. She tasted of peaches and everything sweet, and she hummed my heart a lullaby with her moans that I still haven’t forgotten.

  I want it again.

  I want it all.

  I want her.

  “Too bad it’s a one-way street,” I say on a sigh, knowing Lo will get angry at that little information I dropped for her mom.

  “Excuse me?” Lo growls, her nose scrunched up in distaste. It’s so cute, her little nose and how she’s red again but for an entirely different reason. “You. Don’t. Speak. For me.”
r />   A chuckle escapes from me. There she is. My feisty girl.

  “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

  She scoffs and makes an unladylike groan. “See. This is why I don’t do boys.”

  “Boys?”

  “Yes, Jason. Boys. You are a boy. A man would’ve taken what he wanted.”

  In the background, I see Anise covering her laughter with a towel. Her eyes are filled with delight.

  Instead of being a gentleman, I cross the small space, hauling her tiny body against mine. Then, without another thought, I kiss her.

  Right in front of her mom.

  And I don’t regret a moment.

  Not a single fucking one.

  A throat clearing has me releasing Lo. Her cheeks are flushed, her throat and chest too. Those damn lips that have distracted me several times are swollen from me, and it takes every cell in my body to restrain myself from hauling her away and burying myself deep in her.

  I won’t be that guy, though.

  Not with her.

  I’m going to change her view on love—on men—on me.

  When I turn, an older man glares at me. His dark hair is cropped short, almost as if he spent a good amount of his life in the military. He doesn’t seem cruel, though the expression on his face swears death for me. Other than his obvious distaste for a guy kissing his daughter, he seems kind. He has this air about him, and the wrinkles by his eyes are proof of that. “And you are?” he growls, his gaze narrowing to near slits.

  “Jason Collins,” I reply, lifting my hand for him to shake.

  “Charmed, I’m sure.” He places his hands on a chair near him, bracing his palms. It’s not to make me fear him, but rather, he seems like he’s going to explode.

  “Sir—” I say, but he cuts me off.

  “Don’t let me ever see you touch my daughter like that ever again.”

  “Jeremy!” Anise yells.

  “What? He had his paws all over my baby girl. No sane man would want to see that.”

  “It’s adorable,” she argues, her eyes twinkling when she peers back at me. “They’re a good fit. This is the first boy she’s ever liked.”

  “Mom,” Lo exaggerates, her entire body freezing up. “Stop.”

  “It’s true. I thought it’d be Tobias, but no...” she muses, smiling triumphantly.

  “Toby? My brother?” I inquire, trying to hide the bitterness. Toby won’t have Lo. Not if I have anything to do with it.

  “Your brother? That’s just fantastic,” Jeremy grunts, gripping the chair even tighter.

  “Half-brother, but same difference,” I reply, shaking my head. “Didn’t know Lo was into him like that...”

  “Is that... jealousy?” Anise asks, her face lighting with amusement.

  “And if it is?” I return, raising an eyebrow.

  “Then I’d say welcome to the family. I like you.”

  “Ugh,” Lo groans. “I’m right here and don’t want to hear anymore. Can we eat?”

  I chuckle, the tense situation slowly deflating with the sounds of plates being moved around.

  “Let’s,” Anise says, setting all the dishes in the middle of the table.

  Jeremy doesn’t say another word, but he no longer looks like he’s going to kill me either.

  After dinner, Lo walks me out, barely containing her smile. This brought her happiness. Even if it felt a bit awkward and perhaps was a bad first impression on her dad, it made her happy. That’s a win in my book.

  She hides her face from me when we make it from the door. The embarrassment in her blush and her desire to be hidden and to not be forceful is refreshing. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced.

  She’s a breath of fresh air, and she doesn’t even realize it.

  She opens the door, leading us both to the front lawn.

  “Why would you want to date me, anyway? I’m a nerd who thinks boys are optional?” she questions, biting her lip, like she didn’t mean to let the question out. She chews on the end of her fingernail. It’s an anxious habit of hers, I’ve noticed her doing it on several occasions.

  “So I can watch you all day long and not get odd stares,” I return with a smirk, hoping she’ll say yes when I come to ask her again tomorrow.

  “You’ll still get those stares, Jason Collins, but most of them will be coming from me.” With that, she winks, turning back to her house, leaving me baffled on the front porch like a lost dog.

  chapter eight

  Jase

  For the next week, every single day, I ask Lo to go out with me. It’s become a game. She says no. Then, Anise will smile and make me eat dinner. Two of those times, Toby is there. He gives me the worst looks I’ve ever witnessed from him.

  But nothing will stop me from getting her.

  Nothing will stop me from making her mine.

  I’m guessing tonight will be the same. Another dinner, another smile from Anise, and a night without the girl. But she’s worth it.

  I haven’t so much as kissed a girl since tasting Peaches for the first time. Sure, I get offered. At every party, girls crawl over me, but no one matters now. I want her. She consumes me. She brings my life meaning, one I haven’t ever found in the booze, lackadaisical fucking, or fights with random guys.

  Heading home after school, I pray Brant isn’t there.

  Toby’s father and I don’t get along. Actually, almost always, I end up being bruised from head to toe sans visible areas, and he laughs. It’s becoming Groundhog Day whenever he gets off from work. Mom takes pills, Brant drinks, and I get to be the soundboard for his fists and her cries.

  Toby gets to avoid it all since he’s never home. Of course, no one can hurt the golden boy...

  When I open the door, the acrid scent of vomit and booze welcomes me. Mom. My heart sinks along with my stomach at the sight at the top of the stairs.

  “Mom?” I request softly, seeing my mom in a nightgown she’s worn several times already. It’s caked in her own vomit, sticking to her chest like a blanket.

  “Jason?” she groans, gripping her head, attempting to cover her eyes.

  “It’s me, Mom. It’s me,” I reassure, not knowing what else to do. No matter how much I push her to leave Brant, she won’t. It kills me, knowing he hurts her this much.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” she cries, her body shaking with defeat. “I’ll be better.”

  I’ll be better.

  I’ll get help.

  I won’t do this anymore.

  All of Mom’s favorite phrases ring through my ears like a gunshot. She won’t stop. She won’t get help. She won’t be strong for herself.

  “Let’s get you showered, Mom.”

  Like every other time I find her wasted, I lift her, carrying her frail body to the bathroom. Setting her down, I start the bath, making sure it’s warm. Before undressing her, I kiss her forehead.

  “Come back to us, Mom.”

  Then, like every other time, I undress her, setting her in the tub. This never gets easier. No kid should have to take care of his mother. And it’s only me. Toby never sees her this way. I clean her up before he gets home.

  After ten minutes or so, she seems more aware. Like usual, she cries and apologizes to me profusely. It doesn’t mean a thing.

  Actions.

  Those are what matter.

  I believed her so many times, allowing her to give me false hope, but not anymore. Too many promises later, I’ve been stripped of hope.

  It’s been lost to me.

  And because of her health, I vow to never be her—or worse. Him.

  I’ll be better than them both. I’ll be stronger, surer, and more caring.

  I let her be, heading to my own room and then showering off her vomit. Other kids don’t even realize how good they have it, being able to live with normal parents who love them. I’d know. Going to their houses is like a smack in the face. My family is a mess.

  After I’m done, I dress in my normal black V-neck and acid-washed jeans and run my hands through
my hair in attempt to get it tousled the way I like. With it this wet, it’s not exactly easy. As I head downstairs, ruffling the longer strands up top of my head, Brant walks in.

  His gaze immediately finds mine, and the scowl I’ve come to know as his bad day one overtakes his face. His expression darkens, and the evil lilt to his lips lets me know I’m in for the worst night of my life.

  “Where do you think you’re going, boy?” he hisses, his voice full of unsolicited anger.

  “To Loren’s,” I respond, placing my hands in my pockets. Wrong move. I know it, and as soon as his eyes flickers to them, his grimace deepens.

  “To Loren’s,” he mocks, setting down his briefcase. He closes the distance between us, gripping the front of my shirt. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  With that, his fist collides with my ribs. I keel over, the breath leaving me in one jolt. His hands continue to make real estate on my body, not even avoiding my face this time. Then, it’s his Italian loafers colliding with my body. I’m going to hurt more tomorrow. I’ve allowed myself to hollow out, to avoid the pain he’s wreaking on my body. After what feels like hours of him taking his anger out on me, he climbs the stairs, and I attempt to breathe on my own. Shit!

  The pain slices through me with each breath my body tries inhaling. As the silent agony-filled tears leak out of my eyes, the anger rises.

  Why me?

  Why can’t I be the bigger person and fight back?

  Why did my mom marry this son of a bitch?

  The cold floor gives me solace, numbing the aches that seem to be everywhere at once, but when I hear the shower start, it puts me in motion. If I’m here when he gets back, he’ll either beat me some more, or worse, he’ll pretend he’s sorry.

  One good humph of energy barely gets me in a sitting position. Anything’s better than the fetal position. My chest feels swollen, as if a person’s sitting on my ribs. It has to be broken. That’s the only explanation for the lack of breath I have.