Just Remember to Breathe (29 page)

For those six days, my parents made Dylan welcome, letting him stay in the guest room on the fourth floor. The two of us spent our early mornings together, running, or him teaching me hand-to-hand combat techniques. Sarah actually joined us for that, and I could tell she thoroughly enjoyed it. I quietly mentioned to my Dad that she might enjoy enrolling in self-defense classes. Both of the twins would benefit from it.

The day after thanksgiving, Crank and Julia left for New Zealand, to return to the band, which was on tour. Carrie flew out two hours later for Houston, where Ray Sherman was going to meet her for a week-long visit.
 

The twins, of course, had another year of high school, but hopefully that year would be tolerable for my parents. Jessica and Sarah were inseparable again.
 

I got to take Dylan out to dinner with Kelly and Joel, and show off my ring. We’d set the date for July, and the wedding would take place here in New York. Our families would have to come to us.

That night, I went with Dylan back to his apartment. When we got back, we sat on the bed in his room and I said, “I want to play a game.”

He looked at me, a wry grin on his face, and said, “What?”

“Okay. You get to go first. Ask any question, but we don’t ask about the past. Ask questions about the future.”

Dylan looked at me, then said, “Okay. The future.” He took a deep breath, then said, “Where do you see yourself five years from now?”

I thought for a moment, then said, “Here in New York. I’ve finished law school, and I’m working for a nonprofit organization, I think. Maybe working with rape victims? And you’re here. We’ve got a gorgeous apartment, with high ceilings, and huge windows, but not much space, because working for a nonprofit, I wouldn’t be making much money probably.”

He chuckled, then said, “I like it. Your turn.”

“Same question,” I said.

“Well… to be honest, I’ve been thinking about changing my major. I love writing, but I’m not sure it makes sense to study literature. It makes more sense to study life. I see myself working as a counselor, for the VA. Social worker. Trying to help vets who get screwed up in the head like me.”

“You’re not screwed up.”

He nodded. “Oh, I still am, Alex. I’m working on it, but it’s not going to go away overnight. Or even this year, or next. I still have nightmares about when we got bombed. I still… see it sometimes. I just don’t like to talk about it.”

I pulled my arm underneath me, resting my head on it, and said, “You’d better get used to talking, Dylan. You’re not putting me through that again. I expect both of us to be ready to talk about what’s going on inside.”

He closed his eyes, and whispered, “Alex, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Yes, you do,” I replied.
 

“Okay… well yeah, I guess I do. I thought I was protecting you.”

“There’s such a thing as over protecting. There’s such a thing as ruining your present because of worries about the future. You understand what I’m saying?”

He nodded.
 

“What is it you’re really afraid of?”

“Turning into my father.”

I sighed. “Tell me more about him. You almost never talk about your father.”

He grunted. “Like I said, there’s things I don’t like talking about.”

“Oh, I figured that out a long time ago, Dylan.” I put my arm down, and rested my head on his shoulder. He was warm.
 

“Dylan,” I said, screwing up my courage. “Listen to me. And listen closely. I love you. With all my heart. I’m willing to spend my life with you.”

I could feel his heart beating as my hand rested on his chest, right next to his hand. Then he said, his voice a low growl, “I’d rather die than lose you again.”

I closed my eyes, and tried to focus. “Then you have to talk to me. You have to tell me what you’re thinking and feeling. You don’t decide for me what the best way to protect me is, Dylan. Don’t you dare. You ask me, you don’t decide for me. Am I clear?”

He looked at me, and I could see I was getting through. He smiled, actually.
 

“I’m serious, Dylan. I’m a big girl. I can take whatever you throw my way. But I damned well better be informed.”

“You have no idea how much you’re turning me on right now.”

I burst into laughter and slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“What? I told you how I felt!”

“Will you promise me?”

He nodded.

“Not good enough. I want to hear it.”

He took a deep breath, then looked into my eyes, and said, “Alex, I promise. I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, and feeling, no matter how fucked up it is. I won’t… I won’t try to protect you from me. Not without talking about it.”

His voice caught, and we looked in each other’s eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes that caught me from across the room three years ago and never let me go.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered.

“I do,” I replied. Then I leaned forward and kissed him, very softly, on the lips.

He closed his eyes, and I could feel his body tensing, hungrily, and I found myself biting his lower lip. He moaned softly, and for me, that led the floodgates loose. I pushed myself closer, pressing my body against his, and lowered my lips to his neck. He was clean-shaven after his shower, and I could taste the faint tang of his aftershave.
 

I was breathing heavily, suddenly so wound up with desire I wanted to rip his clothes off on the spot. I looked up at him, met his eyes, and whispered, “Something very important was interrupted Saturday night a few weeks ago.”

He smiled, and our eyes met, and he sat up, then leaned close to me and very slowly kissed my neck, my chin, below my ear. Each kiss sent a small shudder through my body. As his tongue and lips worked their way down to the top button of my shirt, my hands moved of their own accord, underneath his T-shirt, running up his strongly muscled ribs and around his back.

He began to unbutton my shirt. As he stopped at each button he kissed the skin he revealed. I lay back, arching my back as his lips slowly worked their way down my chest, then my stomach. Each pause was excruciating, and I let out a loud moan as he lightly breathed against the underside of my ribcage.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured.

“Tell me,” I whispered.
 

He slid his hands up to my shoulders, and I slightly lifted myself off the mattress as he slid my shirt off. He kissed my shoulder and said, “You’re like looking at a sunset on the beach,” then began working his way across to my other shoulder, stopping at the base of my neck.

“Hmmm…” I said.

“Sometimes you’re so beautiful I have to shade my eyes just to look at you,” he murmured.
 

At that, he slid his left hand behind my back and awkwardly undid the hooks in my bra. I slid the bra down my arms, and he brought his mouth to my right breast and kissed first the underside, then slowly worked his way to the nipple. I almost screamed at the sensation, as he quietly said, “You were so beautiful when we met I was terrified to talk with you.”

I closed my eyes and shuddered as his lips worked their magic, now moving toward the button on my jeans. He paused there, and said, suddenly and soberly, “Alex, stop, I have to tell you how I feel right now.”

My eyes popped open.
 

“
What?”
I said.

“Just kidding.”

I growled at him, and he carefully undid the zipper and I slid my jeans down my hips and kicked them off onto the floor.

I heard him gasp. Meeting his eyes, he whispered, “I’ve been waiting three years to see you like this. I just want to look at you, drink the sight of you in.”

I stretched, then said, “You’re not finished yet.”

He chuckled in a low voice, and said, “No. Not yet.”
 

Then he brought his lips to my navel and began kissing again, working his way down. He slid my panties down around my hips, kissing me everywhere, his hand gently caressing the side of my hip, down to my calf.
 

I was absolutely alive with sensation, every nerve ending in my body crying out for relief as he slowly kissed and licked all the way down one leg to the calf and my feet, then began working his way back up the other leg.
 

Oh. My. God. I was going to scream with pleasure or frustration or both, and then suddenly his mouth touched me
there
, and I really did think I was going to scream. I’d never experienced such intense sensation and pleasure, and I felt my hands grip the blanket, bunching it up in my fists as I gasped.

“Oh, God,” I cried out, leaning my head back, my eyes rolling up. I almost started to cry at the intense pleasure of it, and didn’t even realize that even as he was doing it, he was working his own clothes off of his body, until he suddenly stopped. I wanted to cry out,
Don’t stop!
until I realized he was working his way back up, kissing my navel, the undersides of my breasts, my ribs, my neck, then my mouth.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he whispered.

I couldn’t talk anymore. I just nodded, frantically, and put my arms around his waist and pulled him to me, and suddenly he was inside me. I let out an involuntary cry, because it
hurt
, and he paused, watching me, waiting.
 

I bit my lip and nodded at him, wanting to say
go
but I couldn’t say anything at all. Then he moved again, and the pain of our separation, the heartache, the arguments and questions and complications—everything was washed away in that moment of intense pleasure that was so amazing it hurt.

I wrapped my legs around him, crossing my feet behind his back, and dug into his back with my nails, and at first he moved so slowly that I wanted to cry out in frustration. When I thought I couldn’t go on anymore he would stop, and smile, looking at me. He was drawing it out, stopping himself so we didn’t have to stop.
 

I didn’t ever want to stop, but I didn’t want to go slowly any more. I pushed at his chest, rolled him over, and straddled him, our chests together, and brought my lips to his as my hips pushed against him. Then we both cried out, one right after the other, and I felt my whole body shaking and shuddering. I grabbed his shoulders, then collapsed against his chest, my pulse thumping in my chest.

We were silent, just breathing in and out slowly. We twined our fingers together, and I lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
 

Slowly I slid off of him, and curled up at his side, then rested my head on his shoulder. He turned his face toward me, and I could see his eyes were watering.

“What’s wrong, Dylan?” I asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just that… if you had asked me, three years ago, what my single, secret, biggest dream was… well… this is it. You and me, Alex. You’ve managed to make it all come true.”

I slowly kissed him, then we lay there, talking long into the night, about our shared dreams for our future. And I drifted off to sleep, knowing that after all this time, all the complications and pain and separation, that somehow we’d managed to work our way through it, and that together, we’d face our future, and our dreams, with smiles on our faces and courage in our hearts.

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Copyright information
     

Just Remember to Breathe

by Charles Sheehan-Miles

      Published by Cincinnatus Press

      Copyright 2012 Charles Sheehan-Miles.

v06052013

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is unintentional, with the exception of certain named historical characters.

      Cincinnatus Press

     Bethesda, Maryland

Now Available in print and ebook

Everyone should have something to rebel against.

Crank Wilson left his South Boston home at sixteen to start a punk band and burn out his rage at the world. Six years later, he’s still at odds with his father, a Boston cop, and doesn’t ever speak to his mother. The only relationship that really matters is with his younger brother, but watching out for Sean can be a full-time job. The one thing Crank wants in life is to be left the hell alone to write his music and drive his band to success.