Page 60 of Room to Breathe

From the floor, Beau said, “Don’t step on me.”

“I make no promises,” I returned. “I can’t see. At all.”

“I’m lifting my foot. Take about three steps forward with your hands out.”

“You’re lifting your foot? How chivalrous.”

“IfIstand too, then we’ll be like bumper cars.”

I extended my arms out in front of me and walked in the direction of his voice. “Keep talking,” I said.

“Remember that trust game they made us play in eighth grade where one person was blindfolded and the other had to direct them through an obstacle course?”

“I thought that was a game to see how well directions could be given and followed.”

“Really? I always thought it was a trust game,” he said.

The tile floor felt cold on my feet. “I was excellent at giving directions.”

Beau and I had won that game.

“Maybe I was just excellent at trusting you,” he said. That wasn’t true anymore.

The statement made us both go quiet. Or maybe he went quiet because I had grabbed hold of his foot.

“Found you,” I said, feeling along his leg to work my way to the right position. When I got to his knee, I dropped to mine. Then I crawled forward until I found his outstretched hand, which I used as my new guide, feeling down his arm, across his bicep, and to his pec. My breathing had become shallow and I forced myself to breathe properly as I moved to one elbow and then onto my side. His arm came up around my back, his hand cupping my shoulder as I laid my cheek onto his chest. He smelled like soap and mints. He smelled like him.

“Is that okay?” he asked. “Are you comfortable?”

“Um…yeah…yes.” I wasn’t sure what to do with my hand and it just floated there, an inch above him. He must’ve felt it, because his free hand found mine, pulling it across him to his waist.

“Better?” he asked.

I nodded, my heart slamming into my ribs, irritated that my body was reacting to him after all this time apart. I’d thought those flutters of awareness that started several months ago were an aberration. I was never going to entertain them for the sake of ourfriendship. But apparently our friendship was gone, and the flutters remained. That was backward. I wanted the opposite.

His fingers moved softly along my shoulder. I swallowed. Iwantedthe opposite, I told my body as every nerve ending stood at attention. Or maybe I wanted both. After several minutes, his hand stopped moving and became heavy, relaxing on my arm. His breathing went deeper.

My hand wrapped farther around his waist, which had the unintended consequence of pressing my body closer to his. He took in a sharp breath of air. I blinked, unable to decide if that was a reaction to me or if he had drifted off to sleep and was startled awake by my movement. It was hard to tell in the dark. Probably the second.

I closed my eyes, trying to relax as well.

There was a soft touch on the top of my head. I couldn’t decide if it was from his chin or his mouth or his cheek. Whatever it was, the gesture sent warmth down my body. Made liquid leak out of my eyes.

“I missed you too,” I said softly.

This time I knew his gasp was a reaction to what I’d just said.

“My rule number two…” I whispered. I waited several beats, wondering if I could or would say what I wanted to out loud.

“What is it?” he asked.

“That we don’t have to worry about anything when it’s dark.”

“Nothing?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

Whether he moved first or I did, I wasn’t sure, but our mouths smashed together in the blackness. The kiss tasted salty with tears. They were probably just mine, but I wasn’t certain. He must’ve tastedthem too, because his hand went to my cheek, wiping at the tears with his thumb as he continued to press his lips to mine.