Breathe With Me (The Breathe Series Book 3) (28 page)

KEEPING MY EYES LOCKED ON
him, I jerk my finger back out of my mouth. The sweetness of the whipped topping melts on my tongue and circulates a savory sugar rush over my taste buds; I immediately crave the pumpkin pie I have divvied out in front of me…or maybe it’s not pie at all. I continue to watch Evan as Skylar sidles up beside him and a vice clamps over my heart, pulling at it with a slice of envy and making me wish I was in another time; another place.

“Is it good?” My eyes widen in excitement as he slips a finger full of whiskey spiked caramel sauce into his mouth.

Watching as he plops his finger back out, his Adam’s apple wobbles up and down at his throat while his expression changes, making me rethink trying it at all.

He hands me the bowl with a smile and a shrug. “Try it.”

Hesitantly, I take it with an uneasy nod and a surge of doubt rising within me as I keep the bowl between us; I’ve never had alcohol before. “I don’t know,” I drag out my words. “And you’re sure it has alcohol in it? I mean will it get me drunk?” Looking up, I can immediately tell Evan is barely holding it together. A grin ticks at his lips as he presses them together and folds his arms at his stomach.

“Oh yeah, one lick and you’ll be stumbling your way to my aunt’s house, slurring folk songs and handing out hugs like candy,” he teases me with a grin that I suddenly feel deep within the structure of my own face as if looking upon his has embedded one on me as well. “You’ll be drunk as shit, for sure.”

I giggle, smacking at his bicep playfully.

“Ouch…watch it.” He shifts his brows up flirtatiously and I immediately glance down at the opened bowl as if it’s now beckoning to me, saying taste me.

Before I can so much as make a move or give in to the temptation, Evan’s finger quickly comes into my line of sight. Strings of caramel trail from his hand back to that bowl in a spider web fashion. I dodge his sabotaging technique of wanting to shove it in my mouth by dipping my chin down, but instead of a sneak attack, he keeps his hand idle only a millimeter from my lips. As soon as his index finger brushes across the tip of my nose, depositing a nice amount of the sticky goo, I know my efforts failed. Evan grits his teeth, appearing to be holding back a boatload of amusement. For some reason the vision of a dog licking peanut butter off of its nose over and over and over until it’s sure that it’s gone, flashes through my mind for a brief second. I bust out laughing; I have to look like an idiot, but I don’t care. Evan’s face breaks wide open with a huge smile and all the laughter he was keeping at bay fills my eardrums with how carefree and simple being around him can be.

“Evan…” I spit out, trying to sound stern and scold him for attempting to paint my face.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to get it…”

I don’t wait for him to finish before a surge of revenge sends my finger right into the sauce and flinging it towards his nose so that I can see how he likes it. Of course, Evan is quicker than me, reading my moves before I even make them. He nudges his chin forward, but with his mouth open as he captures my fingertip right between his lips. The warmth of his mouth closes in around my skin and although I still have no idea what the sauce tastes like, my mouth also opens and my heart skips to the next beat.

He closes his eyes for a second, as if the flavor of the sticky goo is the best thing he’s ever tasted. I keep my eyes locked on his, watching his every move and overly aware of the softness of his mouth as his cheeks dip in as if he’s tasted something bitter or sour. The suction around my finger gets stronger as he pulls his head back and reopens his eyes; I can’t say a word. The whole moment has my mouth sealed shut, the air in the room is stuffy and hot, my heart is thumping like speakers at a concert and parts of my body are humming like I’ve never felt before. The moment gets serious real fast and Evan quickly loses his grin, staring back at me in silence. My hand is still held in the air between us with my fingertip resting at his lips. He slowly pulls his head back some more, opening his mouth as I watch him gently graze his teeth over my finger as he finishes his hand-fed dessert.

Neither of us say a word, but I feel strange; confused, yet excited. I have no clue why his lips on my finger has me so hypnotized, but for some reason it is the single most electrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. My stomach flips, like going down a roller coaster at full speed. His mouth lifts at one corner with a crooked grin and I flick my eyes quickly to shake off the storm of sensations racing through me. Something about feeling this way makes me feel guilty.

Evan must sense a change in the mood; he clears his throat and quickly speaks up. “You gonna try it?”

I bat away the butterflies in my stomach that always emerge when we get close like this. It’s been a year now since he kissed me and since then we’ve kept our relationship PG-13. I’m not sure how I’ll react if it ever goes beyond holding hands and kissing.

“Yeah, ok,” I say, keeping my eyes on him.

He quickly grabs the bowl out of my hands, which now makes me aware that I was on the verge of dropping it. I lower my hand, swiping my palm across my denim shorts discreetly before bringing it back up, ready to taste this weird concoction his grandpa raves about. On a blink, I lower my gaze to the tan-colored goop that looks a lot like the melted caramels that Mom and I used to use when making a turtle cheesecake or like the caramel syrup that Dad avalanches over a heap of vanilla ice cream. My stomach rumbles with that thought and my saliva glands go into overdrive, prodding me to dive in and sample it.

What the hell. I shove my finger into the mixture which is so misleading. Looking at its soft creamy appearance, I expect it to have that texture, but instead it is stiff and cold, the opposite of what I would expect a sauce to be.

I look up at Evan as I continue to dig my finger into the ooze, tugging and hooking it to capture a nice heap.

He smiles, watching me collect a supply of it on my finger. “It’s better when it’s warm and a lot less messy.”

Pulling my finger out of the bowl, I hold it above the mixture and twirl it to get the threads of caramel to weave around the large drop glued to the end of my finger. It wraps around the blob like delicate strands of pasta stockpiling onto a fork.

His smile grows as I pull it to my mouth and pause. “Is it real strong?”

Shaking his head, he chuckles. “Oh good grief…it’s not an insect or poisonous plant I’m having you try. Just taste it.”

Here goes. I shove it in my mouth, the flavors instantly spreading over my tongue from a rich sweet buttery taste, a creamy smooth texture and ending with a strong bitter bite. I think his grandpa was planning his own birthday celebration with this batch.

“Wow…” I raise my brows and smack my mouth, still aware of the remnants of caramel between the sides of my mouth and gums. The whiskey wasn’t the most predominant flavor; it was more of a butter taste with a briny after bite like a salted caramel dessert. “That’s good.” I smile, my tongue and belly screaming for more.

“I know I told you and here you were so afraid that you’d be putting one foot in the doorway of alcoholism if you took a teeny-tiny taste.”

A squeaky laugh slips out of my mouth as I lean forward and slap at his chest. He instantly grabs the bowl out of my hand, sliding it behind him onto the table and pulling me against him in one swift motion. The suddenness of it all takes me by surprise and a strange sense of dizziness falls over my entire body as if I’m drifting into a black hole while struggling to stay upright.

My eyes fall shut, but I feel them still as if they are being sewn shut; the pull of each stitch tugs at my skin, pulling and fusing them together against my will. I release a breath and dissolve into nothingness.

“Piper…hey…” a gentle pat comes and goes from my cheek, over and over as his voice becomes more clear. “Come on…Piper…wake up,” his voice is panicked and strained. “Are you breathing…God, you are. Thank God!”

My eyes flutter and a blurred image comes into my immediate view, only inches away from my face. I open them wide, stretching each lid to break loose the sewn together feeling.

“There you are. Hey,” he pulls my forehead to his and it dawns on me that I’m no longer standing. “I just about ran out to get Grandpa. I thought maybe you were having a seizure or…” he trails off as if he knows that wasn’t the case, but still wants to get a feel for me. “Do you need me to go get him or call a doctor or to…”

I shake my head, aware of what happened now. It wasn’t any sort of medical condition; it was fear; it was memories throwing a veil over my head and overpowering me in a struggle to stay awake or to let them knock me out before I’m there again. It’s happened on a couple of occasions, one while I was with Evan, one while at a dance recital, and another while I was in bed sleeping. I’ve spent countless hours going over each detail and until now I haven’t one hundred percent pinpointed the trigger.

Sitting up, I look around taking inventory of where I am and how he is touching me. His hands gently fall from the sides of my face as I ease my way up from his lap. I look over to the kitchen, shocked that I’m now on the couch.

“Did you carry me?”

He nods, a startled look in his eyes, yet he says nothing. I want to ask what happened, but I’m not even sure I want to discuss it at all.

A loud sound breaks the confines of the cabin as his grandpa swishes the screen door open and steps inside.

“You kids ready?” he says in a rush of excitement, obviously eager to get to my aunt’s party.

“Yeah…we’re ready.” Evan jumps to his feet, making the couch bounce from his lack of weight beside me.

His grandpa turns to exit with no more said. I also rise to my feet, getting a funny feeling as Evan walks out without looking back or waiting to see if I follow. My heart sinks and a wave of remorse splinters through me. I should have said more. Shaking my head and dismissing that thought with the excuse that I didn’t have time, I quickly follow them out and jump into the renovated golf cart that his grandpa is so proud of.

We both sit side-by-side on the outer seat facing the road and watching as it winds along behind us. The engine is quiet and other than the skiers and boats lapping by periodically, the trip is peaceful and stress free; all except for the fact that a lingering presence of wrongdoing keeps tugging at my heart. It’s been a year; a year and I’ve never told him anything about that night. I glance over and watch as Evan stares out at the rippling water splashing up along the ledge of the shore. The further we get from the cabins, the more secluded the area gets and steeper the drop off into the lakes edge becomes. I look away, turning my head towards the opposite side which is bordered with tall green pine trees and sprinkled with colorful wildflowers here and there. The chirping of birds and crackle of branches beyond add to natures medley of sights and sounds.