“Yeah. So we’ll talk about school when I bring you some food. What are you doing right now?”
“Grading tests and drinking a glass of wine.”
“What can I do to assure my Della gets an A?” I ask her.
The giggle that comes through the receiver goes straight to my gut, then travels south. Jesus Christ, I haven’t heard that sound in ages. “Nothing. She’s doing just fine on her own.”
“She gets that from me.”
“That’s not all she gets from you,” Eleanor mumbles.
“What else… devastating good looks, a charming personality… what?”
There’s that laugh again. I’ve got to get over there. I want to see her face when that sound passes her lips.
“Her art is incredible,” she adds on the wake of her laugh.
A huge smile takes over my face. Eleanor’s right. The kid’s got talent that rivals most adults. “I’ve got some pieces here that you would love. I can bring some over when I bring you dinner in a few minutes. Where are you living now?”
“You can’t come over here.” The playfulness is gone from her tone.
“Why not?”
“I’m Della’s teacher,” she tells me, her voice high.
“You were my girlfriend before you were her teacher. That’s got to count for something.”
“You can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why? You miss me, Eleanor. You want to see if we can start back up where we left off.” My voice drops, and I know this is a bad idea, but I never claimed to be very smart. “I know you still feel something for me. You made that quite clear in your classroom. I’m not fucking around with this. I want you back. Not a day passed over the last eight years that I didn’t think about you. Every fucking day, Eleanor, every second, you were on my mind.”
“Rafe,” she breathes out in that way that only she can, “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Della.”
I rub my hands over my face, exhausted, but relieved that the only reason she’s giving me is my sister. I can work with that. “Just answer one question for me. No bullshit, no excuses, just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. If you weren’t Della’s teacher, would you give us another shot?”
Her heavy sigh forces my eyes closed, but then they pop open with her barely audible answer. “Yes. In a heartbeat, Rafe.”
The weight on my chest gets lighter with her admission. She was mine once, it can happen again. “So, no dinner tonight. How about I bring it to school in the morning? You can have it for lunch. Claire’s chicken parmesan is always better the next day, anyway.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice low and soft.
“Okay. Sweet dreams, Eleanor. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I hang up, thinking that waiting for the morning to come will feel longer than all the nights that have passed without me seeing her. I can’t wait for this night to be over.
6. Eleanor
I love Thursdays. My boss may be non-existent at the school, but he makes sure we’re all happy. That way, when election time rolls around, he knows that all of his content little teachers will cast a vote for Daniel Perez for Senator. One of the ways that Daniel makes sure we’re happy is by giving us duty-free lunch every Thursday. Parent volunteers come in to sit with the students in the cafeteria and we get one glorious hour off to eat alone.
I head to the cottage, Claire’s chicken parmesan in hand, a smile on my face. That smile is partially due to the fact that I get an hour to chat with my friends, but mainly because I’m about to eat food that Rafe gave me this morning when he dropped Della off.
Food that was accompanied by some wildflowers.
Wildflowers that obviously came from our spot behind the park.
I can hear the cackling before I even get the door open.
“…and then he did that weird thing with his tongue again,” Bren’s saying as I step into the room. I look around at my friends. They all have red faces and tears of laughter rolling down their cheeks.
This is why I come to work every day. These girls are crazy, and I love them to pieces.
They stop and all eyes shoot to me when they hear me come in.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Caroline says. “I thought we were busted.”
“No need to stop now. I could hear you loud bitches before I even got to the door. Sounds like Bren had a good night.”
“Yeah,” she says. “And a good morning.”
I just shake my head and sit down in my usual spot to eat.
“What’s that?” Makenna asks as soon as I open the container.
“Chicken parmesan.”
“Yum… You cooked?”
“Unh unh.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw Rafe with a container like that in his hand when he walked Della to the classroom,” Laurel tells everyone. I can feel my face growing warm. I didn’t want to have this conversation with my friends.
I shrug and play it off like it’s nothing. “So he brought me leftovers. What’s the big deal?”
The smiles that stretch across all of my friends’ faces are ridiculous.
“Hadley, you’re Della’s teacher, too. Did he bring you lunch?” Bren asks my co-teacher.
“Nope.”
Bren pulls her eyes from Hadley and looks around the table. “Any of you other girls ever get lunch from your students’ parents?”
“No,” they answer in unison.
“Didn’t think so,” she says.
“Did he have flowers too, or was I seeing things?” Laurel asks.
“Those were from Della,” I spit back, not liking where this is going.
“Did she tell you that?” Bren laughs.
“Don’t,” I warn her. Despite several glasses of wine last night, I barely slept. My conversation with Rafe played on a continuous loop through my brain. I’m not in the mood for her bullshit today.
She puts her hands up, “Sorry.”
Makenna, who’s been quiet through the whole exchange, decides it’s time to put in her two cents. “Eleanor, I’m not so sure about this.”
“Nothing is going on.”
“Yet,” she says. “But I don’t know how long you’ll be able to keep him at arm’s length. It’s not just about the two of you, or the fact that you’re Della’s teacher. Think about her for a minute. She’s obviously been through something bad. What if the two of you break up again? What will that do to her?”
Leave it to Makenna to be the voice of reason. My food loses its appeal, and I don’t want to be around my friends anymore. Every doubt, every scenario of how this could go wrong is heavy in my stomach, troublesome on my heart. My chest grows tight at the onslaught of memories hitting me right now... memories of our past and what-ifs from our future are overwhelming, and it’s too much for me right now.
I have to leave.
“Eleanor,” they all call to me, but I give them some lame excuse about a phone call I need to make. Taking a cue from Della, I tuck myself into a ball in the corner of my room and try to get myself back to an acceptable level of normalcy. Pressing my cheek into my knees, I breathe in and out, slowly, staring at the wildflowers sitting in a cup on top of my filing cabinet. My heartbeat starts to calm and the clawing feeling in my stomach begins to ease.
Those wildflowers incite images of some of the best times of my life. It all seemed so complicated, so impossible, but I would go back to it in a second… the stolen moments of time, the heavy conversations and deep kisses under the dark night sky, the whispered I love you’s that the wind would carry away… I want it all back.
I want Rafe Matthews back.
I want us back.
It’s not enough to get us back. We have to keep us.
That’s what we were no good at.
___
“This is my favorite place in the whole world,” I tell him.
“Out of everywhere you’ve ever been in sixteen years, here, on a scratchy blanket, in a clearing behind an old park, is your favori
te?”
“Absolutely.” This became my favorite place when I met him here that first time that summer before freshman year. “How did you find this place anyway?”
Rafe props his head up on one hand, turning his body to face me, and I mirror his position. He rests his other hand on my hip and I break out in chills, despite the warm night air surrounding us. “Claire told me that Lucy and Miller used to hang out at the park all the time when they were younger. I started coming here to be alone when I first got to Claire’s. One day, I spotted the overgrown trail and decided to see where it led.”
My brow wrinkles in confusion. “Lucy and Miller? I thought you said Lucy and Bennett were married.”
“They are. Lucy and Miller were best friends. Are best friends,” he corrects.
“Like us,” I tell him, pushing my body into his, forcing him on his back.
“Just like us.”
His arms come around me, and I can feel his heartbeat accelerate under my cheek. I can feel us changing. Each time we’re together, the change that was subtle in the beginning becomes more obvious. We look for any opportunity to touch each other. I love being in his arms. Rafe makes me feel safe, protected, and loved. I like to think I do the same for him.
“When do you need to leave?” he asks.
“It doesn’t matter. I can stay all night if I want to.”
His hand makes a pass through my hair. “I’m sure your daddy would have every cop in this town lookin’ for you, Eleanor.”
“He doesn’t even notice that I leave,” I whisper.
For the first time since I met Rafe, his lips brush against my forehead. He means it to be comforting, but it makes me come alive with awareness. I want him to kiss me. The idea is scary and thrilling all at once… having never been kissed before. I’ve never wanted anyone to kiss me, aside from Rafe. I’ve never wanted to spend time with anyone else. I crave time with him, like I depend on it for my very survival.
“Can I ask you something?” I’m feeling brave tonight, the moon shining above me, Rafe’s capable arms around me.
“Anything. You know that.”
I wait a second or two, but then ask anyway, even though he might laugh. “Have you ever been in love?”
His arms grow tense around me, but relax a few seconds later. “Yeah, I think so.”
“How did you know?” I’m hurt by his answer. I wanted him to say no. I didn’t think his response would make me want to cry, make me want to jerk out of his hold and run away. The notion that I’m falling in love with him has been swimming around in my mind for a while now. If it hurts like this when you have your heart crushed, then I guess I’m in love with Rafe Matthews.
“Let’s see,” he says, repositioning our bodies so that I’m flat on my back and he’s hovering over me, his weight supported on his elbows, his dark eyes looking right at me. I resist the urge to close my eyes. If he stares too long, he’ll know I was asking because I’m in love with him. It’s got to be so obvious. “I want to spend all of my time with her,” he continues, the warmth of his breath washing over my skin. “She’s the first thing I think of when I open my eyes and the last thing on my mind before I drift off to sleep.” His mouth is curving up at the corner, and his dark eyes are shining with something I’ve never seen before. He curls his hands into my hair. “I get this heavy, gnawing feeling in my gut every time I lay down with her on an old, scratchy blanket in our field behind the park. All I can think about is kissing her.” His voice drops, doing funny things to my insides. “I’m dying to know what she tastes like.”
“Rafe,” I start, but I don’t know what to say to that. My heart is pounding, riddled in disbelief from his admission.
“Eleanor,” he says, smiling, his eyes dancing. I swear, he could light up this entire park with the light I can see coming through. He closes the small space between us. “You’re the best thing in my life. You’re the only thing that keeps me going. Every breath I take is because of you. I am completely, madly in love with you, Eleanor Benson.”
“Rafe,” I repeat, his name more difficult to push out this time.
“Is that all you can say?” he asks, his warm hands on my face, his thumbs passing back and forth on my cheeks. “Why am I doing all of the talking for once?”
“I think I’m in shock,” I finally manage to squeak out.
“I need to kiss you now, sweet Eleanor. Can I?”
“Ye-,” I start to say, but he doesn’t let me finish.
His lips connect with mine and we sigh in each other’s mouths. I grab onto his neck, ready for what he’s going to give me, but Rafe stays right where he is, his hands buried in my hair, our lips barely touching. I’m feeling brave from Rafe’s admission of love. My tongue darts out, seeking entrance, begging for more, but he denies my request.
“I’m going to savor you, Eleanor. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. Years. Don’t rush me. I want to go slow. Just let me breathe you in.”
His words, coupled with the return of his mouth on mine, cause me to release a whimper. The small noises I’m making set off a groan from him, which gets me exactly what I want… Rafe’s kiss becomes more demanding. It’s still slow, but the slowness comes with an edge. He’s holding back. I know he wants to let loose on me, and I love that I can do that to him.
I ease away slightly after an eternity of kisses, shaking, my erratic breath releasing into his mouth, and his into mine. He’s just as crazed by this as I am. His dark eyes are alive, hungry.
“Rafe, please,” I beg. I don’t know what I’m begging for, but I want more.
I want Rafe.
I want everything.
He thrusts his thigh between my legs, slamming his mouth back against mine. His gentle touches become more demanding; his lips, tongue, and leg working together to ignite my entire body. His hands are massaging my scalp, but I can feel them all over my body. He untangles them from my hair and whips my shirt over my head, throwing it into the grass.
“Jesus, Eleanor,” he hisses, rocking back and forth against me. “We have to stop,” he says, each word leaving his mouth between messy, demanding, heated kisses. His hands are burning the flesh on my stomach, moving up and brushing the underside of my breasts. “Tell me to stop,” he pants in my mouth.
“I don’t want to stop,” I gasp as his mouth travels south to meet his hands.
“I don’t have anything on me.”
“It’s okay.” His movements are slowing down. I want to cry from the loss of his lips on my skin. “I’m on the pill. I need them to regulate me,” I say, telling him the most unsexy thing possible while we’re doing what we’re doing.
He sits up, his breaths coming out in short, sharp bursts. He scrubs his hands up and down his face, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose. I immediately miss the heat of his flesh against mine, the weight of him on top of me. “It’s not okay, Eleanor. I’m not putting you at risk to catch something from me.”
Realization hits me full force. Throwing a bucket of ice water on me would have been less effective at cooling me off. I scramble off the blanket, searching for my shirt in the darkness.
“Eleanor,” he calls, but I refuse to turn around. “Stop for a minute.”
I can’t. I can’t stop and think about what almost just happened. We almost just had sex. I assumed it would have been his first time, too. I’m so stupid.
“Stop,” he says a bit louder, his demand coupled with his strong arms wrapped around my chest. His warmth at my back is too much to fight. I stop, collapse against him, and push down the tears that are threatening to spill. I don’t want him to see what he’s done to me. He carries me back to the blanket and gets us settled, putting me in his lap.
He tugs my shirt back over my head and starts talking while I thrust my arms through the holes, more than ready to cover myself back up. “Breathe for a minute and listen to me.” When he’s satisfied that I’m not about to launch into a panic attack, he continues. “You know that I have a shitty ho
me life. I won’t tell you about it, and I refuse to let any of that touch you. Parts of that shitty life include me having to do things that I don’t want to do.” He stops, takes a few deep breaths, and then continues talking. The change in his voice lets me know he’s about to share something with me that he doesn’t want to say, and I probably don’t want to hear. “When I was younger, I was forced to do some things that may have made me unsafe. I can promise you, though, those things are not happening any longer. People stopped touching me when I was big enough to fight back. But until I can get checked out, I won’t put you at risk.” His pained sigh is heartbreaking. “If finding this out about me is a deal breaker, I completely understand. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to be with me.” His voice cracks. My confident, assured Rafe is wavering. He’s doubting my love for him.
The pain that I feel for him is too much to bear. He never gives me much about his life with his mother, but when he does, it wrecks me. This is more than he’s ever told me. It makes me sick to know what he’s had to go through.
He holds me against his solid frame while I cry. I sob into the warmth of his chest while he apologizes over and over, but I should be the one issuing the apologies.
“I love you, Rafe,” I whisper, the words feeling perfect tumbling from my lips. “None of what happened is your fault. It’s your mother’s. I hate her.”
“That doesn’t make it go away.” His voice is cold, unattached.
I take his stone-hard face in my hands and stare into his eyes until they start to soften under my gaze. “I don’t care about that. I care about you. That doesn’t take away from who you are.”
“Eleanor,” he exhales, closing his eyes, “if you knew some of the things-,” he starts, but I cut him off, squeezing his face, forcing him to look back into my eyes.
“I know you care about Claire and her family. I know you love me. I know you would never let anything bad happen to me. I don’t need to know anything else.”
“Things aren’t always that simple.”
“We can make them that simple. Here, on this blanket, under the stars, we can promise each other not to let things get complicated. Let’s keep it simple.”
Breathe Her In Page 5
