Ten Tiny Breaths (13 page)

The other part of me is curious about how
Trent’s going to handle this “accosting.” After the constant parade
that first night, things had been fairly tame. I have to think it’s
because, like Pepper, they presume he’s waiting for Ben to start
batting for the other team.

To my pleasant surprise, Trent pulls his arm
off the table and adjusts himself in his chair so his body is
angled toward me. “I’m fine, thanks.”

With a slight pout, she purrs, “You sure?
You’ll regret it. I’m quite entertaining.”

His eyes lock on my face and he doesn’t
attempt to conceal the smolder in them. “Not as much as I’ll regret
leaving my present company. I think she could entertain me for a
lifetime.”

My heart skips three beats and my breath
hitches. If there was ever any doubt about Trent’s interest, he’s
crushed it with that look, with those words. I don’t notice China’s
scowl, which I’m sure is stripping the skin from my bones right
now. I don’t notice her walk away. I don’t notice anything around
me anymore. Trent and I are suddenly the only two people in the bar
and that same uncontrollable urge I felt the day he saved me from
the snake now gets a hold of me.

I close my fists into tiny balls and keep
them glued to my side. I have to control myself here. I have no
choice. I can’t lunge at him like a hormonal freak, which is
exactly what I am right now. I clear my voice, trying to play it
cool.

“Are you sure? Because the most you’re
getting out of me are club sodas.”

“I’m okay with that,” I hear him whisper.
“For now.” His bottom lip slides in between his teeth, and the
temperature in the room instantly rises by twenty degrees. Penny’s
has turned into a bloody sauna and my mind has scattered into
oblivion as I struggle to stand.

But I do manage to stand and stare at Trent
as the grating announcer’s voice comes over the microphone.
“Gentleman …” The next dancer is on her way out. I’ve learned how
to drown that voice out, and have no trouble doing it now as I lose
myself in Trent’s presence.

That is until I hear:

“… A special feature performance of the night
… Storm!”

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me!” I
spin around, checking the bar to find Ginger and Penelope behind
it. All attention is transfixed to the stage in anticipation as a
mystical green glow hangs over the stage, like they’re waiting for
a life-altering performance and not another naked girl in a strip
club.
My
naked
friend
. “Ohmigod. This is going to be
so awkward. She didn’t even warn me!” I don’t realize I’m moving
back until I bump into Trent’s inner thigh.

“You don’t have to watch, you know,” he
whispers into my ear.

The slow throb of a dance beat starts
pounding through the club, and a spotlight lifts above the stage to
illuminate a scantily clad female body, sitting in silver hoop,
suspended. I can’t look away, even if I want to.

It’s Storm in a sequined bikini that leaves
nothing to the imagination, floating in the air on this metal hoop.
When the music picks up, she flips backward, every muscle in her
arm straining as she dangles by one hand. With no visible effort,
she folds her legs back over and fluidly slides her body through
the hoop to hold another impressive pose. The music picks up tempo
and she kicks her legs out, gaining momentum until the hoop swings
back and forth like a pendulum. Then suddenly she’s hanging by her
arms, spinning fast, her hair flying through the air, her body
contorting and diving into various graceful poses. She’s like one
of those people in Cirque du Soleil—beautiful, poised, doing things
I never believed humanly possible.

“Wow,” I hear myself murmur, mesmerized.

Storm is an acrobat.

The scrap of material covering her breasts
somehow flies off.

Storm is a stripper acrobat.

Something brushes against my fingers and I
flinch. My head jerks down to see Trent’s hand resting on his knee,
his fingertips an inch away from mine. So close. Too close, and yet
I don’t pull away. Something deep inside me spurs me forward. I
wonder if there’s any chance …
what if
… Inhaling, I look up
into his face and see a world of calm and possibilities. For the
first time in four years, the thought of a hand covering mine
doesn’t send me into a dizzying spiral down.

And I realize that I want Trent to touch
me.

Trent doesn’t move though. He stares at me,
but he doesn’t push. It’s like he knows this is a bridge I’ve all
but torched and turned away from. How does he know? Storm must have
told him. Keeping my focus locked on those gorgeous blue eyes, I
force my hand to close the distance. My fingers are trembling, and
that voice screams at me to stop. She screams that this is a
mistake; that the waves are waiting to crash down over my head, to
drown me.

I shove the voice aside.

So slow, so light, my fingertip skims his
index finger.

He still doesn’t move his hand. He remains
completely frozen, as if waiting for me to make my move.

Swallowing hard, I let my entire hand skate
over his. I hear a sharp intake of air as he gasps, his jaw
clenching. His eyes are locked on mine and they’re unreadable.
Finally, his hand shifts and covers mine, his fingers gently
slipping in between. Not forceful, not rushed.

A load roar of approval erupts on the fringe
of my eardrums, but I barely hear it over the rush of blood in my
ears.
One … two… three …
I began taking those ten little
breaths.

I can’t contain the euphoria swelling inside
me.

Trent’s touch is full of life.

I’m sure I hear glass shattering somewhere
nearby, but I’m too stunned for anything to register. “Is this
okay?” he whispers, his brow pulled together before I can process
his question, his hand is wrenched out of mine as a pair of giant
mitts land on his shoulders, tearing the warmth and life with
it.

“You’ll need to leave, sir,” Nate’s voice
thunders. “No touching the ladies.”

My peripherals catch motion beneath me.
Looking down, I find a bus boy sweeping up the shards of Trent’s
empty glass. I guess it slipped out of my free hand.

“Is it okay?” Trent asks again earnestly,
like he knows it might not be okay to touch my hand. Like that’s a
perfectly acceptable fear to have. Like I’m not a head case.

Try as I might, I can’t open my mouth or move
my tongue. I’m suddenly like a statue. Petrified.

“Kacey!”

Nate yanks Trent back and out the door and I
do nothing but watch him go, that intense pleading gaze riveted to
my face until it’s out of sight.

Everything seems wobbly as I wander back to
the bar in a daze. The walls, the people, the dancers, my legs. I
mumble an apology to Ginger for taking more than fifteen minutes.
She waves it away with a smile as she pours someone a drink. With
wooden movements, I turn back to see that a shapely native woman
has taken center stage, doing some sort of rain dance reenactment
in a scant feather costume. Storm is nowhere to be seen.

The world moves forward, oblivious to this
significant shift in my tiny universe.

“So, what’d ya think?” Storm interrupts the silence
in the car on the ride home.

I frown, not understanding her question. My
mind’s still stuck on Trent, on the feel of his hand; on me,
standing there like an idiot, not saying a thing. I’m so wound up
over Trent and that pivotal moment that I’m for once not fazed by
the confines of Storm’s Jeep. He held my hand. Trent held my hand
and I didn’t drown.

I notice Storm’s small fists curled tightly
around her steering wheel and she’s looking everywhere but at me.
She’s nervous. “What do I think about what?” I ask slowly.

“About … my show?”

Oh! Right
. “I don’t know how those
boobs of yours don’t throw your balance off.”

Her head tips back and she laughs. “It took
some getting used to, believe me.”

“Seriously, that was the most amazing thing
I’ve ever seen. What the hell are you doing in a strip club? You
could be in Cirque du Soleil or some shit like that.”

I catch a hint of sadness in her giggle. “Not
a lifestyle I can handle anymore. That means training all day and
shows all night. I can’t do that with Mia to care for.”

“Why is this the first show I’ve seen?”

“I can’t do that every night. It’s hard
enough to stay upright and get a bit of a work out in
everyday.”

Huh. Storm works out
. I had no idea.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugs. “We all have our secrets.”

My eyes drift out the window. “Well, that’s
one hell of a way to reveal a secret.”

She chuckles, nodding in agreement. There’s a
pause. “How was your little chat with Trent?”

“Oh, life altering.” His touch still lingers
on my fingers and I can’t shake the pleading sound of his voice.
Raw shame has settled on my shoulders. I should have answered him.
Instead, I let Nate toss him out like a drunken ass.

I hate the feel of being in my skin right
now.

We drive a few more minutes without talking.
Then Storm breaks the silence with a full frontal assault. “Kace,
what happened to you?” My jaw instantly clenches, unprepared, but
she rushes on. “I still don’t know you at all. Given I’ve pretty
much bared all. Literally. I was hoping you’d trust me to do the
same.”

“You want me to spin around on a hoop and
take my top off?” I joke, my voice flat. I know that’s not what she
means.

“I asked Livie and she wouldn’t tell me. She
said you needed to.” She says that in a low voice, like she knows
she wasn't supposed to ask Livie in the first place.

My gut sinks to the floor. “Livie knows
better than to tell anyone my secrets.”

“You need to start talking to someone, Kacey.
That’s the only way to get better.”

“There’s no getting better, Storm. This is
it.”
There’s no coming back from the dead
. I try to keep the
coldness from my voice, but I can’t help it. It’s there.

“I’m your friend, Kacey. Whether you like it
or not. I may have only known you for a few weeks, but I’ve trusted
you. I’ve trusted your sister with my five year old, invited you
into my home, and got you a job. Not to mention that you’ve folded
my underwear and seen me naked.”

“All that without giving you my number. Oh,
the guys at my gym would be so proud of me.”

We pull into the parking lot outside our
apartment as my hand works fretfully over the door handle, the
confines of Storm’s Jeep as it morphs into a confessional tin can
overwhelming.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m not an
idiot. I don’t do that with everyone. But there’s something about
you. I could see it from day one. It’s like you’re fighting against
being yourself. Every time a little bit of the real you escapes,
you shut it down. Cover it up.” Her voice is so soft and yet it
makes me break out in a cold sweat.

The real me. Who is that?
All I know
is that since moving to Miami, my carefully crafted defenses have
been attacked from all angles. Even Mia and her gapped tooth grins
have managed to worm their way into the cracks in my armor. No
matter how many times I tell myself I don’t care, I’m starting to
find my heart beating a little bit faster and my shoulders lift a
little bit higher when I make them laugh.

“You don’t have to tell me everything, Kace.
Not all at once. Why not just one little thing every day?”

I rub my brow as I try to find a way out of
this. After the last time I blew her off, I thought she’d give up.
But she’s just been biding her time. What if I bolt out of this car
right now? Maybe this is a turning point in our friendship. Maybe
she’ll write me off if I do something like that again. A sinking
feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that will bother me. And
Livie. That will outright crush her and I can’t do that. I hear
Livie’s voice in my head.
Try.
I know I have to. For
Livie.

“Four years ago, my parents, my boyfriend,
and my best friend died in a drunk driving accident.”

There’s a long pause. I don’t even have to
look to know that tears run down Storm’s cheeks. People crying over
it doesn’t faze me anymore. I’ve permanently shut off that
tear-jerking switch.

“I’m so sorry, Kacey.”

I nod. Everyone apologizes and I don’t know
why. They weren’t the douche bags in the other car.

“Do you remember any of it?”

“No,” I lie. Storm doesn’t need to hear how I
remember every single moment trapped in the mangled Audi. She
doesn’t need to hear how I listened to the hissing sound of my
mother’s last breath, the noise that haunts me every night. Or how
on one side my friend Jenny’s broken body molded itself against the
car and how on the other, my hand lay trapped in my boyfriend’s
hand, sensing every degree drop as heat left his corpse. How I had
to sit in that car, unmoving, surrounded by the bodies of those I
loved for hours while the emergency crew struggled to cut me out. I
shouldn’t have survived.

I don’t know who let me live.

Storm’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Were you driving?”

I turn to glare at her. “Do you think I’d be
sitting here now if I had been?”

She flinches. “Sorry. What happened to the
drunk driver?”

I shrug noncommittally, staring straight
ahead again. “He died. He had two friends in his car. One died. One
walked away. That guy’s out there, living his life right now,” I
answer, my words oozing with bitterness.

“Have you ever met him?”

“Never,” I whisper. The truth is I went out
of my way to know nothing about him. About any of them. I wanted
them to not exist. Unfortunately, I saw their names in the
insurance papers they made me sign. Those names made them real,
searing into my mind so I couldn’t possibly ever forget. They were
three real people. Real people who murdered my family.