Page 70 of Room to Breathe
Now
Bright light filtered through thewindow. A dread settled onto my shoulders, getting heavier and heavier the brighter the bathroom became. No more rule number two. We had to start worrying again. And I was worrying. My brain was trying to think of a way out of here. It was coming up blank.
We’d both gotten a little more sleep, but between the hard floor and the chilly air, I’d become increasingly uncomfortable. At one point, I’d gotten up to peer out the window above the toilet. Nobody was in the corridors. There was condensation on the glass, and a brisk wind flowed through the screen. I shut it, then settled back in beside Beau.
Kissing him in the darkness had been unexpected but magical. Now, with the past hanging over us and the future unsure, I knew this tentative truce we’d created might evaporate.
My stomach let out a large growl and I covered it with my hands.
“We should eat,” he said in a deep morning voice.
I tightened my hold on his waist, not wanting to face the day. He chuckled and placed his cheek against my head.
“I’m going to be so sore from this floor,” I said.
“Same,” he agreed, and yet we kept lying there.
My toes were cold and I moved one foot down his leg, then up the bottom of his pants, placing my freezing toes on his bare skin.
He yelped, laughed, and then wrapped me in a tight hold, turning onto his side and depositing me onto my back. He freed his leg from my toes but didn’t move. He hovered over me, his arms under my back, his mouth inches from mine. He stared into my eyes for several long breaths. My eyes stung with emotion. I wondered if he could see it there. His gaze traveled to my lips. The distance between us was slowly closing. I wanted to kiss him, in the light of day, with no disclaimers or rules, but I couldn’t.
I turned my head to the side with a chuckle. “I have morning breath,” I said as my excuse. But that was the least of our problems.
He released me and we sat up.
“Do you think you can reach that tree outside the window?” I asked.
“There’s a tree outside the window?” He stood and went to the back stall. He climbed onto the toilet, opened the window, and peered outside. “I don’t know. It’s kind of far. Why?”
“Maybe you could break off a branch? And we can use it to get the pins out of the door hinges?”
“I don’t know that a branch will be stronger or work better than your pen did.” He said it, but he was reaching his arm out all the way up to his shoulder, wedging it uncomfortably into the narrow opening. “I…” He cringed and smashed himself farther into the wall. “I can’t quite…Ugh. No.” He sighed and extracted hisarm from the opening. In his grip was a single pink blossom from the tree. He gave me an apologetic shrug as he jumped down from the toilet and held the blossom out for me.
I released a breathy laugh but took it, tucking it behind my ear. Then I stared at the locked door for a moment. My mom hadn’t found me. Somehow I thought she would, even though my phone was off. I thought she’d search me out, worry. Maybe she’d expended all her worry on my dad.
“Should we split a protein bar?” I asked.
His eyes went to the door and then back to me, like he knew what I was thinking. “Yeah,” he said, then after a beat added, “someone will come for us. Soon. You’ll make it for the meeting.”
“Just because you say things with such surety doesn’t make them true.”
He shrugged. “I’m good at fooling myself.”
I nodded to the counter. “I’ll fill our water jar, you split the protein bar.”
I filled the jar to the very top and then grabbed us each a mint off the counter as well. I tossed one onto his lap where he sat, expertly splitting the bar.
“Good thing you’re such a teacher’s pet,” I said with a smile, holding up my mint.
“You don’t want to know what’s on the tray I left on the table out there.”
“You left a tray on the table?”
“Yes,” he said.
“I do want to know, actually. Maybe imagining it will help my hunger.”
“Packaged muffins and trail mix and chips. It wasn’t just me. It was leadership. You know I’m doing leadership this semester.”