Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) Page 4

  At the end of the bed, a suitcase lay open and almost full.

  I watched as Carol folded things from a laundry basket and put them in the suitcase. But I couldn’t help but notice that she seemed heavy all of a sudden.

  I walked over and put my hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She sniffled. “Yeah, I just wish she could stay here. I hate feeling like she’s better off somewhere else.”

  “I know.”

  “And I know it sounds awful, but I hate feeling like you can help her and I can’t.”

  “It’s okay. It’s only temporary.”

  “But what if you guys really hit it off and she decides she’s happier with you and never wants to come home-“

  “It won’t matter,” I said. “It’s only temporary.”

  “How do you know?” She sat on the edge of the bed, wringing one of Kate’s tank tops in her hands. “How am I supposed to believe we can ever be okay again? After all the lies? And her knowing we talked about sending her away?”

  “Because you love each other,” I said, sitting down next to her. “And that isn’t going to change. She just needs some time in a different environment so she can focus on taking better care of herself.”

  “What if she wants you to take her to school in the fall?” Her shoulders dropped, dragging her face down with them. “You’re so much more fun than me.”

  I shrugged. “That can’t be helped.”

  She forced a smile.

  “And of course you’ll be the one to take her to school.”

  Carol shook her head. “If she wanted you to, I guess I would try to underst-”

  “Carol. It’s not even an option. I won’t be around to take her to school.”

  “Why? Where are you going?”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to tell her. She had enough to worry about. But I knew if the situation were reversed, I would absolutely want to know.

  She looked back and forth between my eyes.

  I reached out and took her closest hand between my palms. “Carol.” I cleared my throat. “I’m dying.”

  “What?”

  “I have lung cancer.” I swallowed. “And it’s inoperable.”

  Her eyes started to water. “But you can’t…you’re-”

  “I only have a few months. And I don’t want to spend them undergoing treatments that will only prolong what would become a very poor quality of life for me.”

  I knew she was stunned because her mouth was hanging open and she hated when other people did that.

  “I want to spend them with Kate.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay?”

  She shook her head and her whole face scrunched up like a prune. “Not okay” was all she managed to say before she burst into tears and threw her arms around me.

  I knew it was only the element of surprise that caused her to express her emotions that way.

  I knew after a few minutes she would decide that she should be the one comforting me. At which point she would go back to being in control again. Then she would say all the right things, read all the right books, and ask all the right questions. Her support would be exemplary.

  Like it always had been when I needed her.

  But after all the months I’d spent worrying about how she would respond to the news and trying to convince myself I shouldn’t tell her, it was a relief to discover she cared so much.

  And I could tell by how hard she was squeezing me that even if she knew all the awful things I’d thought about her over the years, she wouldn’t have hugged me any less tight.

  Chapter 7: Kate

  Dawn was home a lot. I guess she was taking a break from work for a while. Which seemed odd, but I was just grateful to be there so I didn’t ask questions. To be honest, I liked that she was around so much. It made me feel like purging wasn’t an option. Which made it easier to stop myself from binging in the first place.

  I mean, there was one night where I kind of lost it and stuffed myself until it hurt at the pizza party after the Catholic League Championship. But when I got home, I couldn’t do shit about it. Dawn’s bathroom was in the middle of her apartment and the shower was too small to bend over in.

  So even though I was still having those “trigger” feelings, like, all the time, at least I started to recognize them for what they were. Which made it a little easier to cope. Sure, I was smoking a lot more pot, but that had to be better for me than abusing myself with food. It certainly felt better.

  Of course, the best part about staying with Dawn was that I didn’t have to worry about driving when I was going out. I could take the train straight to Annie’s. Which was great because most of the parties we went to were in her neighborhood anyway.

  That night’s party was no different. We were going to this guy Tim’s house. I wasn’t really friends with him directly, but Danielle knew him from grade school. Plus, we were girls. Drunk girls. That basically made us the guests of honor.

  I took a few shots of vodka and then a few more at which point I could feel the cool liquid coating my stomach. By the time we got to the party, I could feel the heat coming off my cheeks.

  I felt great for about an hour into the party. Then I started to get sloppy. Like, planning how to get from point A to point B across a room sloppy. Of course, right when I was thinking maybe I’d drink Sprite without vodka in it for a few minutes, Ian invited me to be his beer pong partner.

  Which was a huge deal. It was the equivalent of him standing on the table and saying I like this girl so much that I'd rather have her on my team than win this round of beer pong and my right to play the next round.

  It was pretty gallant of him. I mean, that kind of thing just didn’t happen. Girls were usually only welcome near the beer pong table to do one of three things: refill beers, go after stray balls, and try to distract the other team.

  It made me think that maybe we weren’t just using each other. Maybe he actually liked me and wanted to spend time with me. Or maybe he just wanted to run his hand across my lower back and my ass and have me blow on his balls for good luck in front of people. Whatever it was, I was flattered.

  So I did my best despite the fact that I could see twice as many cups and balls as everyone else. And I even managed to get one in at a crucial moment, tying us up with the other team. But in the end, Ian just couldn’t carry us through to victory. Of course, he wasn’t mad that I’d blown our chances because he expected it to happen. Still, it was fun to get to play for a change.

  I was surprised how much drunker I felt after drinking my half of our cups of beer. But I was even more surprised that instead of going from sloppy drunk mode to napping mode, I was feeling kind of horny. Maybe it was because Ian was really touchy-feely during the game. Or maybe it was because of how hot he looked in his lacrosse jacket. All I knew was that I wanted him to suck my tongue right out of my mouth.

  We found an empty room upstairs. It must’ve been the master bedroom. It had that typical parent’s room vibe: big cushy bedspread, open spaces, an odd lack of personal effects, and a big TV.

  I followed him inside and closed the door behind me.

  “Sorry we didn’t win the game,” I said.

  He slipped his hands under my shirt and slid them around my waist. “We didn’t?” He smiled. “It sure feels like we won.”

  My lips were already parted when he pressed his mouth against mine. My insides started to churn as I walked backwards towards the big bed. First he pulled my shirt off. Then I unzipped my skirt, let it fall to my ankles, and stepped backwards out of it. He followed my lead, pulling his shirt off and wriggling out of his pants as we moved across the room.

  When the back of my legs touched the bed, I fell onto my back and scooted up towards the pillows. Ian crawled after me, pinned me down, and started kissing me again. We writhed against each other, and I felt a gush in my underwear as I pressed my hips up against him. He was so excited he groped my boobs over my bra. I doubted that was any more enjoyable f
or him than it was for me, but I went with it.

  “God Kate, you’re so sexy,” he said. “I want you so bad.”

  “I want you inside me,” I said softy enough that I could deny it if he laughed.

  He reached down to rub the outside of my underwear with his fingers. “I want to be inside you.”

  “But for more than two seconds this time,” I said, trying to speak in the same sexy voice.

  He stopped moving his hand. “What?”

  “Nothing?”

  “What did you just say?”

  “Nevermind.”

  “Seriously. What did you say? About two seconds?” The dim light from the bedside table gave away the disappointment in his face.

  Fuck. I knew I couldn’t take it back. What I didn’t know was how he could be so surprised. “I was just hoping this time, maybe you could try to last a little longer.”

  The silence in the room swallowed me up like the bed was a huge sinkhole.

  “Don’t stop,” I said, finally. “That felt good.”

  He started to move his hand against me again, and I rocked my hips towards him. I was eager for him to feel my wetness and forget what I’d said.

  I reached down, pulled my underwear off, and threw it on the floor. Then I reached for his dick, discovering that it wasn’t hard just before he swatted my hand away.

  “Get hard for me,” I whispered, knowing it was all my fault.

  Before I could do or say anything else, he knelt over me, took his dick in his hand, and started to stroke himself. It felt like I was watching something secret, something I wasn’t supposed to see, but he seemed relaxed. He even let his head fall back for a second.

  It wasn’t until he looked down at me again and started stroking himself even faster that I got scared. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my eyes off the aggressive way he was pumping his cock. It was so different from how I would’ve done it. Rougher. Angrier.

  Then he walked forward on his knees until he was masturbating right over my face. Suddenly, I knew exactly how many balls were in the game. And I wasn’t comfortable anymore. Not with the way he was yanking his dick over me and not with the darkening look in his eyes.

  I realized if somebody walked in and saw me in that position, I would've been mortified. Which made me think maybe I shouldn’t be doing this? Maybe this is wrong. It felt wrong.

  And as I went from frightened to embarrassed to pissed off, I realized it wasn’t too late.

  I didn’t have to do what he wanted. I didn’t have to do something that would make me feel dirty and bad about myself.

  “Stop,” I said.

  But he kept jerking himself right above my face.

  “Stop!” I said louder, pressing my clenched fists against the bed.

  But he just ignored me and kept pointing his dick at my mouth.

  Finally, I used all my strength to push him off of me, bolted along the trail of my clothes towards the door, and didn’t look back.

  Chapter 8: Dawn

  I was patting the bacon with a paper towel when she appeared in the kitchen doorway. One side of her hair was scrunched up just above her ear as if she’d been doing breakdancing head spins on the spot all night.

  “Morning,” I said.

  She fell against the doorframe and pulled my spare robe around her. Her eyes were still puffy from the night before.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  She twitched as if she wanted to shrug, but didn’t have the energy.

  “Better than you look I hope?” I offered her a smile. “Have a seat.”

  She dragged a chair away from the table and slumped into it like a heap of laundry.

  “You’ll feel better after you eat something,” I said as I laid her poached eggs on buttered toast.

  Her first words were hoarse. “Smells good.”

  I laughed. “It speaks!”

  Her dark eyes smiled briefly when I put her plate down in front of her.

  I wanted to be cheerful without overdoing it. The jury was still out on how hung over she was.

  “So we’re doing that thing where we have a hearty breakfast so we don’t feel like eating everything in sight by 11 o’clock.”

  She nodded.

  Even though she was used to my food commentary, I knew how pervasive food stress was to young girls with eating disorders. There was no way I could talk about food more than she was thinking about it. Of course, I knew better than to expect her to give me any verbal feedback.

  “I know bacon is fatty, but it’s Saturday, right? So we can live a little.”

  She lifted a piece of crispy bacon and cracked the end off in her mouth.

  “And I poached the eggs in the microwave which is one of my favorite healthy tricks. So they’re totally guilt free.”

  She put salt and pepper on the eggs and then used her fork to poke the first yolk.

  “See? Nice and runny.” I took my teabag out and laid it at the edge of my plate where it pooled in its own brown juice. “Plus, eggs are great if you have a hangover.”

  Her eyes flashed up at me.

  “Oh I’m sorry? Are we pretending you didn’t get hammered last night?”

  “Sorry.”

  “No you’re not. But you don’t need to apologize. As long as you’re not an idiot about it, you should be allowed to have a few drinks.” I snapped a piece of bacon in half. “Not eight. Maybe not ten. Probably about half as many as you had before you went to the party.”

  She raised her eyebrows at me. “Thanks for picking me up.” She cut a piece of bread and stacked some egg on top of it.

  “You’re welcome,” I said, reaching for the pepper. “But you want to know the truth?”

  She sighed. “Does it matter?”

  “I don’t care why you were drinking last night.” I swapped the pepper for the salt. “But I do care about why you cried yourself to sleep.”

  She froze, holding her bite halfway between her plate and her mouth. A pink flush appeared on her pale cheeks. “I was just really drunk.”

  I shook my head. “I’m no stranger to a good drunken cry, Kate. That’s not what happened last night. You didn’t say anything all the way home, and then as soon as you went in your room you started sobbing.”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  I cocked my head at her.

  “It was just boy stuff.”

  “Boy stuff?”

  “I was just mad at a boy.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “A friend’s boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Do I have to keep guessing?”

  She exhaled. “You won’t say anything?”

  “No,” I said. “And for the record, I have plenty of my own problems to worry about. I’m only asking because maybe I can help or maybe I’ve had the same problem before.”

  She pursed her lips. “He’s just this guy I sometimes…” She dragged her fork through a pool of yolk.

  “Hook up with?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to stay objective so I wouldn’t ask for the boy’s name and address and go kill him myself.

  “Last night he wanted to do something I didn’t want to do.”

  “Something you weren’t comfortable with?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I was crying.” She lifted her fork towards her mouth. “Cause I was pissed at him.”

  “Did he try to stick it in your butt?”

  The look of horror on her face was priceless. “No! What the fuck?! Sorry. No. He did not try to stick it in my butt.” Then she laughed for a second and shook her head.

  I felt a bit better having lightened the mood. “So did you do whatever the thing was that he wanted to do?”

  “No.”

  “Well that’s good isn’t it?”

  She shrugged.

  “You should never do anything you don’t want to do, Kate. Not when it comes to sex.”

 
Her eyes flashed when I said the ‘S’ word.

  “And anyone who genuinely cares about you will never ask you to do something you aren’t comfortable with. Do you understand?”

  “I know.”

  “But you should be proud of yourself for not giving into peer pressure. You’re the only one who can look out for you so you have to stick up for yourself.”

  “I did.”

  “Good.”

  She picked up her toast and ripped a corner off with her teeth.

  “I’m sure your boyfriend-”

  She looked at me out of the corner of her eye.

  “Sorry- friend that’s a boy. I’m sure he understands.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t.”

  “Then there’s a good chance he doesn’t care about you as much as you think he does, as much as you want him to, or as much as you deserve.”

  She swallowed her toast.

  I kept quiet and wondered if she was going to say anything else.

  “I have this friend-”

  Oh here we go.

  “And she’s dating this guy. He’s in college.” She looked up at me and then back down at her plate.

  I pretended to be interested in my breakfast, too, though my appetite had been off lately.

  “And things are really great with him, I guess.”

  “Bedroom things?”

  She nodded.

  “And you want that?”

  She shrugged. “Doesn’t everybody?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Everybody does.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Don’t you have some advice or something?”

  A smile spread across my face. “Sure.” I reached for my tea and took a sip. “You said your friend is supposedly having great sex with this guy, right?”

  She pulled a foot up onto her chair and rested her chin on her knee.

  “So that means at least one of three things is going on.”

  She nodded and pushed some hair out of her eyes.