Coming Up for Air

by Nicole B. Tyndall

  And the line goes dead.

  I can still hear the muffled music coming from the party downstairs, and I try to ignore my pounding heart long enough to think. I have to get away from the noise. Greg’s scolding words echo in my head.

  I kissed Tyler. I can’t believe I kissed Tyler. My stomach turns. What about Braden? I fumble into Dr. West’s bedroom, still feeling too exposed, and move past the bed and into his large bathroom. What the hell was I thinking?

  Sliding onto the floor, I tuck my legs tight into my chest, and let my heart pound against my knees. A wave of nausea rolls through me. I open the lid to the toilet and expel the cinnamon whiskey. It burns even worse coming back up. I wish I could fold into myself until I disappear.

  “Had?”

  Great. Wonderful.

  “Yeah.” I lean back into the wall, feeling empty. I answer his question before he can ask it. “I’m fine.” When I’m finally brave enough to look up and see Tyler’s face, his eyes are full of concern.

  “You don’t look fine.”

  The truth is that my head’s spinning. My throat is burning. And I’m still drunk. Drunker than I realized when I was dancing. Making out with one of my best friends. He glances at the toilet. “It wasn’t that bad, was it? The kiss.”

  The sound I make is pitiful and amused.

  He finds his way to the wall opposite me and then slides down to the floor too.

  The words leave my mouth before I can think myself out of them. “You called me gorgeous.” It sort of sounds like a question. Or maybe an accusation.

  He looks at his shoes. “Oh. Well…” He pauses. “Yeah, I guess I did. But to be honest with you, Butler. Right at this specific moment, you’re looking kind of a mess.”

  My laughter echoes in the bathroom. “Yeah. No kidding.”

  “Like, you’re a little boney these days, and you’ve got makeup under your eyes—”

  “You really don’t need to give me details.”

  His nose wrinkles. “And this entire room smells like puke.”

  “Sorry,” I answer sheepishly.

  He shrugs. “I wasn’t talking about how you look, anyway. But on a normal day, yeah. That too.”

  “But mostly the puke smell, right?”

  “Yeah, mostly.”

  I study Tyler, thoughts and emotions all tangled together. In the last year, it feels like he’s the only person who understands me. The only one who sees me clearly. And I don’t think I’ve been repaying the favor.

  “Ty?” I manage.

  His face goes serious. “Yeah?”

  “Do you have any mouthwash?”

  He laughs and lifts himself up from the floor. He hands me a bottle of neon blue liquid from the cabinet below the sink. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” I take a swig, swishing it around, enjoying the minty relief.

  Ty looks at me as I sit back on the floor. “Do you want to talk about…the other thing that happened?”

  My heart rate spikes again, and my fingers pull at the threads of the white rug next to me. “I’m sorry, Ty.” I risk a glance up at his face. “I shouldn’t have—”

  His gaze is steady. “Don’t be. I’m not. And you might have been the one who actually, you know, kissed me. But I sort of started it.”

  My brow furrows. “I’m the one who asked you to dance.”

  “But I didn’t dance with you like a friend would.”

  “And I didn’t kiss you like one.”

  “Well, yeah. Okay. I don’t really know how friends would kiss.” He moves, sitting up straighter and leans toward me. “That did surprise me. It was…”

  “Yeah,” I agree, because whatever he was going to say, he’s right. I laugh to try to dispel some of the awkwardness. “It was really good.”

  His eyebrows lift.

  “You didn’t think so?” Then I laugh even harder, feeling mildly deranged. I let my head fall heavy against the wall behind me.

  He puts a hand out. “No. I agree.” His voice is firm. “I just didn’t expect you to say it.”

  “Well, I did.” I gather my resolve and sit back up. “But—”

  Ty sighs, and as if by a switch, the light behind his eyes goes out. “I know. I get it. You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

  “How do you know what I’m going to say? I barely know what I’m going to say.”

  “I just…I assumed you were going to say it was a mistake. Weren’t you?”

  I’m suddenly aware of how close we are. I remember his hands in my hair and the surprised sound he made when I kissed him.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. I probably should, but…”

  “But?” His expression is hopeful. I don’t know what to say, so I just watch him. “We don’t have to figure it out right now—” He pauses for so long that I wonder if he’s going to continue the thought. Finally, he says, “I have an idea.”

  The air in the room charges. I curse myself for noticing it.

  “An idea?”

  I look at his eyes. They’re alert, present, assessing me carefully. I’m so close I can see his lashes, short and curly. “Maybe we could try one more time before we decide anything?”

  “Try?” My body feels light, nervous. “Like an experiment?”

  “Just to see. Like, if it was a fluke. No pressure if you don’t want to.”

  I can’t help myself. I have to clarify: “So you want to kiss me? In a bathroom that smells like puke that I’m responsible for?”

  “Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “I kind of do.”

  For a beat, we’re both still, and I realize I have to be the one to do it. He’s not going to close the space between us. Especially not now, not after drinking, and not when I’m so confused. So I move toward him, palms steady and knees sliding on the cool tile.

  He’s against the opposite wall, watching me approach him. Aside from his chest rising and falling, he doesn’t move at all, not until our faces are just inches apart. I tilt my head into him.

  Slowly, he sits up straighter and then barely presses his mouth against my lower lip. I suck in air, surprised at the current of feeling between us. He stops at the sound, pulling away to look at me.

  Do we stop now?

  I’m frozen. Then I dip my chin, very slightly, and he lets go of whatever had been holding him back. His fingers press gently on the sides of my neck as our lips meet with greater intensity. He lets go of whatever has been holding him back as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer. My brain leaves entirely.

  I haven’t been touched like this, feeling safe and wanted, in longer than I realized. It’s filling a void I didn’t know existed, but now that I’ve noticed it, it’s endlessly deep.

  His body shifts, pressing against me, and I feel a pull from deep in my stomach. He moves his lips to my neck, his teeth brushing the thin skin over my thumping pulse. I barely remember to breathe as his mouth works its way back to mine.

  Without thinking, I grab the ends of his shirt. Tugging it over his head, I rip our mouths temporarily apart for the chance to touch more skin. See more skin. I look at him and feel my heartbeat pound.

  He follows my lead, lifts my shirt and discards it. He stops for a moment, eyes tracing my body.

  The word beautiful leaves his lips, and I catch it. His hands wrap around my exposed back. I press my teeth gently into his bottom lip, and his fingers dig into my hips, low. My heart is beating so fast—

  “Had? You in there?” It’s Becca’s voice.

  Tyler and I open our eyes at the same time. I pull away from him and jump up off the floor. “Yeah, hey,” I say in a shrill voice as I look for my shirt—actually, it’s Becca’s shirt—and pull it hastily back on. When I look down, Braden’s key is hanging in the middle of my chest.

  I might be sick
again.

  I hear her walk into the bedroom, making her way toward us through the open door. “Oh, hi, Hadley. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

  She knows.

  “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” Tyler’s shirt is on backward. Oh my god. Oh my GOD, what have I done? I thought I messed up downstairs, but now I’ve really done it. And it’s definitely not his fault.

  She’s leaning in the doorway. “You’re big kids. You can do whatever you want.” Becca’s really trying to play it cool, but there’s something uneasy under her actual words. “But I’m leaving. You still want a ride, Hads?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” My voice is tight. Becca takes the hint and leaves the bathroom.

  Tyler and I are both standing now, facing each other in the small space of the doorframe. His mouth is swollen from kissing me, and his shirt is all rumpled, but tight around his biceps. The tag bobbles below his Adam’s apple as he swallows. And the sight of him like that instantly feels so endearing to me that it almost hurts.

  I stare at him, still not moving. Completely unsure of what to do, what to say. If he were just my regular friend Tyler, I would hug him goodbye. I wouldn’t even think about it. But I can’t bring myself to close the space, afraid of what it might lead to.

  Then he smiles his slow-motion smile. A smile I’ve seen a million times, but now reinvented. He shakes his head. “Fuck.”

  And whoa. And everything in between.

  “Yeah.”

  “I feel like I should apologize? But I don’t know how to apologize for that.” He pauses. “That wasn’t normal, right?” It’s like he’s talking to himself. Then he looks me dead in the eye. “I have never felt anything like that in my entire life.”

  Instinctively, my fingers find my necklace. I let my eyes fall. Because I have felt something like that. But somehow it doesn’t make this moment feel any less significant.

  I look at him one last time, and the resulting pang in my stomach is something I’m not ready for. “If you have to apologize, then so do I.” I nod toward the door. “But I have to go. She’s my ride. We’ll…talk about this later?”

  “Okay. Later.” His expression is goofy, and he says it like he’s in a daze.

  I press my lips together, and I don’t wait for more. More is what got me into this mess. Instead, I leave the room to go find Becca. The whole way home, I’m not sure if I want to laugh or cry.

  “And it was good?” Becca looks delighted.

  At least that makes one of us.

  Sitting on her bedroom floor, I run my hands over her carpet. “Yeah. But I basically feel like the worst person in the world.” The other night, after the party, I told her I wasn’t ready to talk about it, so today, she’s making up for lost time with the rapid-fire questions.

  My phone buzzes.

  “Hads? Is that him again?”

  “It’s not a big deal. Tyler and I have always texted.”

  “Right, but it’s the content of these texts that interests me. Plus, you phone’s been dying for like…hours. I’m surprised it can even get all these messages.”

  “We’re just agreeing not to be weird. To give each other some space, time, whatever. To think about how the hell to handle this…situation.”

  “And?”

  I’m ready to tell her that I haven’t the faintest freaking idea, that I’m the biggest mess of all the messes, when I hear my phone buzz again. I glance down to darken the screen, but it doesn’t say Tyler’s name.

  It says Braden Roberts.

  I slam my phone to the carpet, facedown. I press my hands against my chest and breathe deeply.

  “Hadley?”

  I pick it back up.

  I’m so sorry, Hadley. And then a text bubble appears. He’s typing more. He’s typing right now.

  He’s awake.

  When I look up, Becca is staring at me.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She pauses, understanding. “Wait.”

  I nod quickly.

  “What does it say?”

  I hand Becca my phone. “He’s typing!” she exclaims.

  I leave my body, and I’m watching this from somewhere far, far away.

  My phone buzzes again.

  Becca’s voice is protective. “Well, that’s about the only acceptable thing for him to say.”

  I grab my phone from her. Three more texts come in quick succession.

  It’s killing me.

  Almost literally.

  Will you meet me somewhere? I can come to you.

  The room is quiet as I hand Becca the phone again. “You’re not going to, are you? What about Ty?” she asks incredulously.

  But I don’t even think about it. There’s no answer but yes. I text him back, telling him to meet me at my parents’ house. Mom and Dad are at Mom’s radiation treatment, and Judd has classes all day today. I have to go, now. But Becca’s room is such a mess I can’t find my sweatshirt and purse. “I have to. I’ve been losing my mind wondering how he is.”

  She has some counterpoint, but I don’t hear it. “If I see him, then maybe I can move on. Figure out the Tyler stuff. Right now, it’s all…” I make a wild gesture with my hands. “I need to untangle it.” In the middle of this chaos, choosing to see him feels like the simplest decision in the world. I spot my bag. “Sorry to bail.”

  Becca is on her feet in front of the threshold of her bedroom. “Text me when you get there and when he leaves. Call me if you need me. And don’t blow off Ty.”

  “Ty knows I need time to sort everything out.”

  “I know, but still.”

  I squeeze her arm. “It’ll be fine.” In this moment, I would say almost anything to get her out of my way. We both know that I may have just blown up our group of friends, but she doesn’t say anything; just gives me a warning look and moves out of the doorframe, letting me pass. I bolt out of her room without so much as a parting glance.

  My purse lands with a thud on the passenger seat. It’s less than a ten-minute drive to my house, but it feels endless. The whole way there, I fluctuate between driving like a maniac and remembering the accident and slowing down.

  My heart feels like it might blow up.

  When I pull into the driveway, I grab my phone and keep my promise to Becca to text her. Here. She immediately answers, but my phone dies before I can read it. I shove it back into my purse and take a couple controlled breaths.

  Braden is going to be here any minute.

  When I get out of the car and stand in the driveway, I feel like I’m using baby deer legs. I should go into the house, wait for him in the living room, do something. But my legs won’t move.

  I can’t stop thinking of what the alternate version of this moment would look like, one where I speed off in my car and never look back. Where I text him and say, no, sorry. I can’t. I remember his lies and my camera, and I simply say no. But in this reality, I stand paralyzed, afraid to look up from my shoes, remembering the other version of him. The one who let me pretend our first date was our fifth so I’d be less nervous, who couldn’t wait until daylight to ask me to be his girlfriend, who comforted me after Mom was diagnosed. Sometimes I convince myself that the force of my will alone could bring back the boy I used to know.

  Before I can make a decision, a car parks in front of my house.

  The door clicks open and then closes with a thud. My eyes stay fixed on the ground, taking in the stains on my Keds. My hands tremble at my sides.

  “Hadley.” His voice is home.

  I take a deep inhale and force my gaze up. He’s stopped a few feet in front of me.

  And he’s the same but entirely different.

  His hazel eyes are piercing, more nervous than I’ve ever seen them, accentuated by his green T-shirt. And the evidence of the accident is ever
ywhere. Part of his head was shaved—the hair is shorter on one side than the other—and along the side, he has a healing scar from the stiches. His left arm is in a sling. He’s littered with bruises. Frankly, he looks exactly how I have been feeling: shattered and put back together all wrong. Even though I still desperately miss it, I don’t need my camera; I know the sight of him like that will stay with me forever.

  We stare at each other for a few moments, silent except for my pounding heart. And his too. I can’t hear it, but I know it as well as my own.

  “When did you get out? Are you allowed to be here?”

  “I’m so sorry, Hadley.” His voice breaks at my name.

  I don’t move, but my heart throws itself at my rib cage. “You’re okay?”

  He nods. He’s looking at me like I’m the answer to every question he’s ever asked. “Are you?”

  “Yeah.” But my vision goes blurry with tears. “I don’t know.” I feel pulled in so many directions; I’m going to rip into pieces.

  He takes a step closer, then abruptly stops himself. His brows are creased with pain. “Can I…?” He offers his uninjured arm, reaching into the space between us.

  “Braden—”

  His arm falls. “I understand.”

  My heart fractures. Unable to find the words, I take a step closer to him.

  “Oh thank god.”

  And when he wraps his arm around my body, all the pieces slide back into place. Feeling so suddenly whole makes my body ache. I grip on to him. “You’re okay,” I tell him, letting the weight of the world fall into his chest. “You’re here.”

  He nods against my head as he rocks me. We move back and forth, and his hand twines in my hair, rubs my arm, rests on my hip. He touches me with so much love that it puts my heart back together and breaks it anew.

  “Nobody would let me see you.”