Breathless 3 (Breathless #3) (4 page)

We talked until I was completely calm once more, but
in the back of my mind, I kept thinking about what she had said and about what
I had read. She was right; if Johnny really did have some kind of antisocial
tendencies, it would definitely show — wouldn’t it? He would probably come up
with some way to justify driving his girlfriend to kill herself. If nothing
else, I had to hope that he would be willing to tell me a little bit more about
the situation. I had to hope that he would be a little more open. Of course, I
would have to be careful about how I asked. I couldn’t just flat out go “Hey,
so Johnny, are you a sociopath?”

Gigi and I went to the dining hall and grabbed some
dinner. She was compassionate enough to go along with my lingering uncertainty
about the risk of running into Johnny before I was ready to talk to him. She
agreed to go along with my cover story of being sick. We joked about it a
little bit before going down for our dinner, with Georgia coming up with absurd
expressions of shock and dismay, over-the-top descriptions of how I had been
draped over the toilet, puking my guts out.
At
least
, I thought,
if any of my
professors asked Georgia about it she’d be able to cover for the classes I’d skipped
earlier in the day
. I was still tired, still anxious, and still confused
about the whole situation, but I had to admit to myself that Gigi was right. I
wasn’t going to get the answers to the questions I had from the Internet. I
would have to get them from Johnny himself. I would have to trust that he cared
about me and that he was willing to tell me the truth.

The problem was I didn’t know if I could trust him at
all.

Chapter
Five

After dinner, I gave more thought to what Georgia had
said. We had talked a little bit more about it when we came back with our food.
“It’s pretty obvious to me that he has, like, really strong feelings for you. I
think he’ll tell you what’s going on,” she said. I wasn’t sure I could trust to
his feelings as much as Georgia thought I should, but I didn’t really have much
choice.

I felt weird — skin-crawly, jittery, nervous — as I
walked across campus. I had managed to get a quick shower at Georgia’s
insistence and had pulled my long blonde hair back into a sloppy ponytail. I
certainly wouldn’t be in any shape or condition to go out, but I wasn’t
planning on going anywhere I would need to look impressive. My stomach
flip-flopped inside of me as I walked along the pathway, looking around. There
was some kind of deep-down paranoia that I’d run into the nasty girl who had
poisoned the well of my mind against Johnny.
But if she’s right about him, then shouldn’t you be grateful that she
told you?
But then
, I thought,
that same girl was obviously into Johnny
.
She had flashed him, she had flirted with him. Obviously, she was only
interested in getting me out of the way so that she might have a chance with
him.

The security lights came on across campus one by one,
illuminating little blue-white circles on the pavement. In between, darkness
was descending, and I went between not being able to see at all and being able
to see my own figure far too clearly. It wasn’t cold yet; it was still late
summer. But I could feel the tinge of approaching autumn in the air. I was
hyper-aware of everything around me — the sound of some girls laughing on their
way back to the dorms on one of the parallel sidewalks, the buzz of a late
summer beetle a few feet away from my ear. I caught movement in the corner of
my eye and my heart pounded until I realized it was one of the campus police.

The frat and sorority houses were so far away from the
dorms that I almost regretted walking. But if I had convinced Georgia to drive
me over to the Phi Kappa house, it would be weird; and I couldn’t really ask
her to stay outside while Johnny and I had some lengthy discussion. It was
better by far that I had walked the distance, no matter how nervous it made me.

Frat row was weirdly quiet and for a moment — caught
up in my own paranoia and anxiety — I felt like I was a walking horror movie
trope, the girl going down the dark, quiet street, just ripe to be snatched by
some psychopathic killer, some
slasher
out for
revenge on the world because some girl turned him down for a date or something.
You’re being ridiculous,
I told
myself.
If there was a serial killer on
campus killing girls, then there’d at least have been an alert about it.

I finally came to the Phi Kappa house and took a deep
breath. Somewhere inside the sprawling place, Johnny had to be sitting around,
doing something. It occurred to me to wonder that there were no parties going
on; the frat looked so different when it was quiet like this, when everyone was
inside, when half the campus wasn’t piling in to drink and dance and make out
with each other. I walked up the walkway and climbed up the three steps to the
front door. I heard a cheer from inside — shouts, some comments, some laughter.
Running underneath that I could hear the dull roar of the TV.

I took another deep breath and lifted my hand. It felt
numb, like a heavy wooden block at the end of my arm.
Just get it over with, Becky,
I thought firmly. It wasn’t as though
putting it off would make me less anxious or get me answers any sooner. I
knocked quickly three times, biting my bottom lip to suppress the instinctive
little yelp of fear that rose up inside of me. For just a moment, the urge to
run away — to dart off of the porch, down the walkway, and try and get down the
street as quickly as possible before someone came to the door — came over me. I
swallowed against the tight, dry feeling in my throat and told myself that I
was being ridiculous. No one answered the door; I knocked again, harder,
finally regaining feeling in my hand. My knuckles ached from how hard I
knocked. There was a shout inside of someone telling someone else to go get the
door.

My heart was still pounding in my chest when one of
the other members of the frat opened the door; for a moment I was disappointed
that it wasn’t Johnny himself, but then I realized there were plenty of guys
who belonged to the frat. It wasn’t like I could expect him to always be the
one to answer the door. It would probably just be whoever was closest or the
junior-most members. The boy frowned as he saw me, his head half-turned towards
the living room area, distraction plain on his face along with more than a
little annoyance. “Hi,” I said nervously.

“Hi,” he replied, giving me a look as if he was
doubtful of why I was there or even if I was some kind of weird freak.
In fairness, you are at the door of a frat
in the middle of the night,
I thought wryly.

“Is Johnny around?” I asked, trying to make my
expression as pleasant as possible. “I was hoping I could talk to him real
quick.” Something happened inside of the house and I heard a shout rise up from
whoever was in the room — some of the shouts delayed, slurred somehow. With the
door open, I could smell the unmistakable reek of alcohol.

“Hey! Johnny! Some chick’s here for you!” The
annoyed-looking boy called out over his shoulder. I heard a low-voiced joke,
the sound of a bunch of guys laughing, and then Johnny’s voice called out from
somewhere within the huge house that he was coming. The boy wandered away,
barely even giving me a second glance on his way back to whatever was on TV. A
moment later, Johnny appeared at the door, as if out of nowhere. His confusion
left his face all at once as his gaze settled on me.

“Becky! Hey, baby.” He came through the door and
kissed me immediately, not even giving me an opportunity to react or to ask him
not to. Part of me melted. In spite of my fear and anxiety, I had missed him,
missed the way his lips felt against mine. He pulled back, his hands on my
waist, looking down at me. “You’re still looking a little off, but I’m glad you
felt good enough to come by,” he smiled, looking so genuinely pleased to see me
and so happy that I was there, that I almost gave up on my quest.
But you have to know. You have to find out.
You can’t just let him charm you into forgetting.

“I still feel a little iffy, but I wanted to come over
and talk to you.” I gave Johnny the strongest smile I could manage and he
touched my cheek, his bright eyes full of affection and some sweet, gentle look
that I couldn’t help but warm to.

“Why don’t you come in? The game’s almost over.” There
was another shout, another cheer from inside and I glanced over his shoulder.
The idea of being around all of his other frat brothers was less than
appealing, but I told myself that I was on a mission. I had a responsibility to
get this over with.

“If it’s almost over, sure,” I said. Johnny laughed at
my doubtful look.

“I swear. A few more minutes and you can have me all
to yourself.” I was determined; we were going to have this conversation sooner
rather than later.

“Lead the way then,” I said, giving him another smile.

As Johnny led me into the frat house living room, a
wave of revolting smell rolled through the air, filling my nose. Every eye of
every boy in the house was on the huge flat screen TV; they were in different
jerseys, most of them holding either beers or red Solo cups. The entire room
reeked of cheap liquor and beer, sweat, and stale Doritos and Cheetos. I
crinkled my nose in distaste and resolved to breathe as much as I could through
my mouth instead of through my nose; that at least might make it more bearable.

I couldn’t make anything out about what was going on
in the game; it was football, but I had come in, as Johnny told me, towards the
end of the game. I had never really had an easy time understanding anything at
all about football in general, even with a few of my high school friends
playing for the school team. But I sat down in Johnny’s lap when he resumed his
seat and obediently glanced at the TV. I noticed that of all of the guys in the
frat, Johnny was the only one not drinking something; half of the rest of them
were positively tore down.

I felt a flicker of irritation as Johnny’s attention
went onto the game almost completely. He wasn’t as hugely invested in the game
as the rest of the guys, but he was obviously watching intently. After a few minutes
he glanced back at me. “So you’re feeling better?” his hand on my waist
caressed me through my clothes lightly and I was conflicted between feeling a
little bit revolted at my surroundings, a little bit afraid of this man whose
character I didn’t know, and a little bit irritated.

“A little,” I said, smiling slightly. The other boys
in the frat were talking amongst themselves, debating something — arguing some
play or some call by the ref, I wasn’t sure. Johnny’s attention went back to
the game, and in spite of the fact that he was still caressing me idly,
stroking up and down along my waist and ribs, holding me close, it was obvious
to me that I might as well have almost not even been there.

I heard one of the frat brothers say something in a
low voice about one of the cheerleaders as the TV showed a brief flicking shot
of them. The boys around him laughed — the drunk, annoying, coughing kind of
laugh that a bunch of twenty-something boys make when they’re drunk, and I
frowned to myself. The game didn’t actually seem to be ending — it seemed to be
dragging on. I had no idea what was going on, but the boys in the frat, Johnny
included, were getting more and more excited about it as the timer started to
tick down.

I looked around; the place wasn’t actually dirty, but
it reeked. I started to question why I had even bothered to take a shower
before coming over. As the other members of the frat bickered amongst
themselves, with Johnny occasionally chiming in with a comment, any hope of
getting him to myself was totally gone. I sighed. My anxiety was starting to go
away, replaced with irritation.
Of course
,
I thought,
it wasn’t exactly like I had
planned on seeing Johnny. I’d told him that I was sick, that I was going to
stay in. He hadn’t been expecting me at all.

But I wanted to get him alone. I needed to get him
alone to have the conversation we had to have. Minutes dragged by and I decided
that in spite of my urgency in needing to know, the discussion wasn’t going to
happen any time that night. I would just have to get through another sleepless
night — and probably have another nightmare — and work my nerve up the next day
and find a time to talk to Johnny about everything that was on my mind. I slid
out of his lap. “Hey,” I said when he stirred, turning his attention back onto
me, away from the game. “I’m sorry, babe, but I need to get going.” I tried to
keep the irritation out of my voice and gave him a weak little smile. I leaned
in and gave him a quick kiss before turning away to the door.

Johnny followed me, and I heard someone call out.
“Johnny Steel? More like Johnny rubber!” and someone make a whip-cracking
sound. Johnny blushed and I cringed.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I should have
called ahead and made sure you weren’t busy.”

“Don’t worry about them; half of them are drunk, I
don’t really care.”

“Just give me a call when you’re done watching the
game,” I suggested. Johnny looked at me sharply, frowning a little.

“Are you all right? You know you can stop by whenever
you want.” I shrugged.

“It’s okay. I get it.” I smiled as best as I could in
spite of my irritation. “You’ve got a thing with them. I’m not going to be that
girl.” Johnny glanced at the TV, at the room full of his frat brothers.