Just Breathe (10 page)

I’m so grateful to Dominic for doing this. I wish he was here with me dancing, experiencing this moment. But here he is; dancing near enough to me that I feel like we’re together, but not too close that it cramps my style. I hate when couples bump and grind in public. Dancing together is one thing, but I’ve always preferred to dance alone. Most guys incorrectly think a dance is an invitation to grope the girl. I want to do my own thing, have him nearby but I don’t want to have to focus on him, I want to focus on the music. I just want to move, share the music. Share the moment. I don’t know if Dominic gets it, but he smiles like he’s right here with me.

The music is everything. It’s just so much, filling my chest as though I’m breathing the sound in. The first few notes of a Lady Gaga song that’s safe for me to listen to, So Happy I Could Die, ring through the speakers and I feel like I know exactly what she meant. I can’t believe Dominic did all this for me. It’s so thoughtful and sweet.

Giving into it further, I close my eyes and feel the music. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to dance—doing it in my room isn’t the same as the intensity the club speakers throw off, or the lights, or the other people. It’s an experience that I didn’t realize how much I’d missed until tonight. I’d cry if I wasn’t so happy. Maybe I feel like crying
because
I’m so happy. Dominic returns my huge smile, and I impulsively hug him and scamper away, back to my spot on the floor, shy but alive until the magic hour ends and he drives me home.

We don’t talk much during the drive back to my place. I’m still too full of the experience to speak, and he seems content to let me bask in that feeling in silence. He parks in front of the house, and I smile over at him. He opens my door for me and walks us up the path to the house. I stop before unlocking it; a sign that he isn’t invited in, but that I’m open to a kiss. If I wasn’t into him, I’d have just said goodnight and gone straight inside, but I lingered, hoping he understood the signal.

“Thank you for tonight,” I say seriously.

“You’re welcome. Can I see you again?”

“I’d like that.”

He steps closer, slowly enough that I can back away if I want to. I don’t. I move forward to meet him. Glad I’m wearing my platform boots, it evens our height difference enough that I don’t have to climb him to kiss, but I would so climb him if I had to. His cologne or body spray is something that smells dark and spicy, and it’s heady, clean, and delicious.

I step into him as he wraps one arm around me, hand lightly pressing against my lower back. His other hand slides through my hair, pulling it back from my face, and continues on to gently rest at the back of my neck. He looks into my eyes, his mouth curls up into a sexy smile, and then his lips are gently on mine.

Amazing kiss doesn’t even touch it; this is a devastating lip lock. I completely lose myself in it. Twenty seconds, or twenty minutes later, we separate. I feel drugged and dazed and utterly happy, like I’ve been shaken up and pieces of me are gently floating back down to earth—sort of like a snow globe.

Not even a god damned earthquake could stop me from going in for seconds.

The second kiss is harder, deeper, faster, more intense. His arms tighten around me, we’re pressed together, and he’s warm, and feels so strong. His tongue lightly strokes mine, and I run my hands up his back, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt. The base, animal part of my brain debates tearing his clothes off right there on the doorstep, but reason and common decency prevail. After a moment, I break the kiss but stay close.

“Wow.” His voice is husky and he sounds as dazed as I feel.

“Mmm,” I murmur. “You are trouble.” I swoon into his gentle hug.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He releases me and I feel the loss of his warmth like something has been torn away from me. “Goodnight, Elle.”

“Goodnight, Dominic.”

“I’ll call you.” He walks away from the house.

“Kay.” I unlock the door and step inside. That man is trouble. And I can’t stop smiling.

Chapter Nine

Without opening my eyes, I contentedly stretch, feeling happy. And then remember my dream. As the details come into focus, shame and frustration crawl up my arms and tie my shoulders into knots. I dreamed of Jason. Again. He and I together, kissing, making love. Him smiling at me with love in his eyes, and me thinking,
finally! I am right where I’m supposed to be!

Then he gave me a scarf with a strange pattern on it and said he wasn’t sure about us anymore. The scarf was our relationship, somehow, and I knew if I could only do
something
with it, that it would remind him of what we’d shared. But all I could do was stare at it, trying to find the pattern of our demise.

But I woke up before I could find it.

I wish I could call Marie—if only I’d told her about it all along. She’d make me laugh, and say something mean and true about Jason, and we’d laugh, and things would feel better.

For the past couple months I’ve been spending a lot of time not thinking about Jason. Now I’m doing the same with Marie. She’ll be gone soon, and it hurts too much to think about that. And I can’t even escape into sleep, because I dream mean dreams. Betrayed by my own mind. But why? Why now?

Is it because I’m finally moving on, feeling happier than I have in months? Am I a masochist? No wait, wouldn’t that be sadist? Or would it be sado-maso—whatever. Subconscious mind, thou art a heartless bitch. What was it anyway, the dying throes of a love gone bad? Such bullshit. Especially after last night with Dominic. Now
there’s
something to dream about.

I hadn’t wanted the night to end, but like any savvy woman, I know appearing too eager isn’t prudent on a first date. It’s frustrating to no end; guys will say they want a woman who is direct and isn’t into playing games, but if they got a woman who was just that, they wouldn’t want her because the thrill of the chase would be gone. We don’t always want to jerk guys around, but their evolution forces our hands.

Holy crap Dominic can kiss. It’s been so long I’d almost forgotten how much I enjoy it.

I flip my pillow over and run my hand over the cool satin. These sheets are perfect. There’s no way I’d have bought them for myself, but they really are fabulous. All thanks to Marie. I should call her and see if we can cram in some extra girl time, especially since she’s moving soon. Too soon. I can’t believe she’s leaving.

Feeling like time’s a-wasting, I sit up and grab my phone. Two missed texts. The first from Marie:
Get your ass out of bed. I’m bringing breakfast. Be there in half an hour.
That was received seventeen minutes ago. Our synchronicity pleases me.

The other text is from Dominic, received at seven a.m. Wow, early riser. It’s ten-forty now. I smile and feel warm inside as I read it.

Dominic: Had a great time last night. I know I’m supposed to wait three days to feign casual interest, but can we skip that? What are you doing next Saturday?

He wants to see me again!
A grin claims my face as
I respond.

Elle: No concrete plans yet. Did you have something in mind?

After a short victory dance around my room,
I sling on a pair of faded jeans and a tight vintage t-shirt with a picture of Oscar Wilde on it. My phone dings as I pull my second sock on—text received.

Dominic: Yes

The phone buzzes in my hand and I jump. Nerves of steel. It’s him! “Hello?”

“Hello. I figured I could continue texting you, but I’d much rather talk. Texting is so impersonal.”

Mmm, I want to lick my phone. His voice makes me feel all kinds of things, most of them inappropriate. “I definitely prefer hearing a voice.”
Your
voice. I’d purr if I was able. “I had a great time last night.” I immediately blush.

“So did I.” His warm tone makes me feel better about gushing. It also reminds me of how his lips felt on mine, which makes me blush harder. Lost in the memory of the way his body felt, I can’t form words. Luckily he continues. “I was wondering if you’re available to do something next Saturday?”

“That’s a week away.”

“I know. I didn’t want to lose my chance because you’d made other plans.”

I’m flattered he thinks I have a packed social life and happy he’s making plans with me a priority. He just IS that into me!

“What time?”

“Ah.” He pauses. “This is an early one—eight in the morning.”

“Ouch. Luckily I don’t work next Saturday.”

“Excellent. So you’re up for it?” There’s a smile in his voice.

“I’m definitely up for it.” The doorbell rings. Shit! Marie. “Someone’s at the door, I’ve got to go.”

“All right. I’ll see you Saturday at eight?”

“Definitely. Bye.”

“Bye. Oh, and Elle? Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

What the hell am I getting myself into?

The doorbell rings again, and I make a mad dash to answer it. I manage to jerk the door open before Marie starts kicking it. While generous to a fault, patience isn’t one of her virtues.

“Hey.” I grab the bag she’s holding in her teeth. She’s got a coffee in each hand, so I step back and wave her inside.

“Morning. How’s my favourite sexy librarian today?” She kicks off her ankle boots.

“Good.” I shut the door and follow her into the kitchen. “Whadja bring me?”

“A ham and cheese croissant and a cinnamon bun.”

“Awesome!” I grab us a couple plates and sit down at the table. “I was going to call you and see if you wanted to hang out today.”

She makes a face as she puts the food on the plates. “Actually, breakfast is about all I can do this weekend. I have tons to finish up at the office before the move.”

Well, fuck. I take my plate from her. “Oh.” I take a bite of croissant and focus on my coffee to hide the sudden sting of tears. If I look at her I’ll cry. She either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t mention it, and I manage to keep my cheeks dry. Emotions wrangled into submission, I speak again. “Are you excited?”

“It’s not like I’m going to get more money, and it’s going to suck being away from you.” This time it’s her eyes that get damp and me pretending not to notice. “But it’s Spain! I’ve wanted to go there since I was fourteen.”

I cough to clear my throat, but unleash a coughing fit. Deep hacking bursts feel like something is tearing inside my chest. Ugh. So glad I quit smoking, but this detoxing thing sucks. I’ve been coughing phlegm out of my lungs for the past couple mornings. Gross. My eyes water, and I wipe them with a napkin.

Marie stares at me. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I sip my coffee, relaxing as the creaminess coats my throat with warmth.

“Elle, you really need to—”

“I know! I’d been smoking way too much. No need to nag.” Something else I can blame on Jason. He’d turned me into a wheezing pothead. It makes me even more glad I quit.

“I mean, I know I have no right to give you shit about it—hell, I smoked more than my fair share a few years ago. But it’s something you should try and then move on. It’s experimentation, not meant to be a lifestyle choice.” She points at the wild colours of the living room. “I mean, Rubik’s Cube chic? No. Just no.”

“Actually, I haven’t smoked anything in almost two weeks. I quit.”

“That’s awesome! I should have noticed—your eyes look huge now! I’d forgotten how big and pretty they were with you being high and squinty all the time.”

I bat my eyelashes at her and take another swig of coffee. She has no idea why I’d been hitting the weed extra hard these past few months. It went far beyond youthful experimentation. What Jason did nearly killed me. Maybe not killed me, but definitely emotionally crippled me. I’m only just starting to feel like I’m going to make it. Weed played a large role in my recovery. Alcohol has picked up the slack.

And now there’s Dominic. I smile thinking about him.

Old Eagle Eye Marie doesn’t miss a thing. “Oh! What’s that? I know that look! Who is he? What’s his name? Bitch, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me as soon as I walked in!”

“It’s early days. We just had our first date last night.”

“And? What’s his name, where’d you meet, where did he take you, how’d the date go, is he hung like a horse?”

“His name is Dominic. He’s a patron at the library. We went out to dinner, then to a club.”

“What?” Marie’s eyes bug out. “How?”

I focus on my hands. “He called in a favour with the DJ who was his friend. I got an hour of safe music. We danced, and laughed, and...” I trail off feeling vaguely ridiculous that anyone would go to that much trouble just for me.

“Elle. Look at me.”

Blushing furiously, I look up into her all-too-serious eyes.

“You are
so
worth it. I like him already. An Italian stallion!” Shaking my head to deny it, she cuts me off. “You have missed out on so much, babe. You deserve someone who will treat you like the goddess you are. It’s no less than you should have.”

So much for holding the tears back. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” I full-on ugly cry.

“Me too,” her voice is hoarse with emotion. Her cheeks are wet as well. “Ugh, this is not how I wanted to spend the limited time we have left together. But I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She brushes a kiss to my cheek and is gone before I can stand. The door closes behind her, and the house suddenly feels too empty.

Chapter Ten

Wednesday night, sprawled on my bedroom floor, I’ve gone back to cutting up words for my decoupage project. What would Dominic like? Not that I’d make him anything—I think it’s far too soon for presents. But if I made him something, what would I make? A journal, a box?

Though I don’t know what I’d create, I know the words I’d use. Weird, witty, wild ones. Powerful phrases taken out of context, turned on their heads. Oscar Wilde, Dorothy Parker meets Lewis Carroll. Smart and funny and unexpected. Maybe some Vonnegut. I think he’d dig that.