Breathe, Annie, Breathe
Page 74
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He leads me to the foyer, where Mason and Fisher are passing out cups and hitting on girls. When they see Jeremiah holding my hand, Fisher silently mouths “Yes!” at Mason.
“How many guys live here?” I ask.
“Forty. We have over a hundred members, but some of the older guys live in apartments or in houses off campus, and freshmen usually live in the dorms.”
Running his hand along the bannister, he leads me up a wide staircase to the second floor. Composite pictures of pledge classes cover the walls. Jeremiah points out his brother Matt’s class that graduated a few years ago.
“We all share bathrooms up here, so if you need to go, use the one for girls downstairs. It always has soap and toilet paper.”
“How do I know which room it is?”
“It has a sign on the door that says Sheilas.”
“Like at Outback Steakhouse?”
He cocks his head. “I think we stole that sign from there, yeah.”
Jeremiah pushes open his bedroom door. It’s set up kind of like mine: two twin beds, two dressers, two desks. How is it different from my room? Socks, T-shirts, boxers, and shorts are everywhere.
“Sorry for the mess,” he says. “I would’ve cleaned up if I’d known you were stopping by.”
“It’s okay. I have a brother, you know.”
“A brother who would kill me if he knew you were in my room right now.”
“Yeah, he would.” I look at the pictures of his family taped to the wall. I laugh at one where Kate is shooting a water gun at him. Another shows Jennifer sitting on his shoulders at a zoo. And then I see the medals and trophies.
“There must be a hundred medals here,” I exclaim, examining one from the New York City Marathon.
“I get ’em at the end of most races. I save them.”
The room is quiet, minus the sounds of the party downstairs. I lean up against his desk. “I probably should head back to my dorm. I’m tired.”
“Don’t go,” he says in a quiet voice.
“Why not?”
“We still haven’t talked about why you were jealous tonight.”
“God!” I growl. “Do you have to win at everything? Can’t you just let it go?”
“Nope.”
“I’m not a prize to be won, Jeremiah. I’m worth more than that.”
He stalks toward me and pins me to the desk. His hips press against mine, stealing my breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps.
“Your brother told me you don’t do serious relationships. Are you just trying to win me? Then forget about me?”
He takes a step back, nearly tripping over a heavy hiking boot. His nostrils flare. “How could you question our friendship?”
“I’m—”
“No. Let me get this out.” He paces the room. “I care about you. I care about you like I’ve never cared about anybody before. More than my family. More than my brother.”
I close my eyes and grab his desk chair to hold myself up.
He goes on, “I’ve wanted you since the moment we met.”
My instincts tell me to rush out of the room, but the tug to stay with him is too strong.
“I never wanted a relationship with a girl before you,” he goes on. “My life moved too fast to slow down for anybody. But this entire summer I’ve been going slow. I’ve been waiting for you. And I can wait as long as you need. I can’t say I know how you feel or tell you how to feel better, but I can wait. I’ll be your friend.
“But don’t insult me. I haven’t been with another girl since I met you. I don’t consider you some prize to be won.”
By the time he’s done speaking, he’s panting and there’s a vulnerability in his eyes I’ve never seen before. It scares me. But it also knocks something loose.
He can wait.
“Jere?”
“Hmm?”
I reach a hand out to him. “I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“Always.”
We stand quietly, staring at each other, holding hands.
I ask, “If I’m ready for some things with you, but not other stuff, will you be mad?”
Searching my eyes, he gently rubs his thumb against my palm. “I’m ready for whatever you’re ready for.”
I take a deep breath. “I met Kyle after I smashed him in the head with a volleyball.” Jeremiah dips his head and smiles sadly, listening as I tell the story of my first love. I describe our first fight—how Kyle had signed up for the Homecoming kissing booth, not understanding we were in a real relationship and people in relationships don’t kiss other people in kissing booths, even if it is for charity.
“How many guys live here?” I ask.
“Forty. We have over a hundred members, but some of the older guys live in apartments or in houses off campus, and freshmen usually live in the dorms.”
Running his hand along the bannister, he leads me up a wide staircase to the second floor. Composite pictures of pledge classes cover the walls. Jeremiah points out his brother Matt’s class that graduated a few years ago.
“We all share bathrooms up here, so if you need to go, use the one for girls downstairs. It always has soap and toilet paper.”
“How do I know which room it is?”
“It has a sign on the door that says Sheilas.”
“Like at Outback Steakhouse?”
He cocks his head. “I think we stole that sign from there, yeah.”
Jeremiah pushes open his bedroom door. It’s set up kind of like mine: two twin beds, two dressers, two desks. How is it different from my room? Socks, T-shirts, boxers, and shorts are everywhere.
“Sorry for the mess,” he says. “I would’ve cleaned up if I’d known you were stopping by.”
“It’s okay. I have a brother, you know.”
“A brother who would kill me if he knew you were in my room right now.”
“Yeah, he would.” I look at the pictures of his family taped to the wall. I laugh at one where Kate is shooting a water gun at him. Another shows Jennifer sitting on his shoulders at a zoo. And then I see the medals and trophies.
“There must be a hundred medals here,” I exclaim, examining one from the New York City Marathon.
“I get ’em at the end of most races. I save them.”
The room is quiet, minus the sounds of the party downstairs. I lean up against his desk. “I probably should head back to my dorm. I’m tired.”
“Don’t go,” he says in a quiet voice.
“Why not?”
“We still haven’t talked about why you were jealous tonight.”
“God!” I growl. “Do you have to win at everything? Can’t you just let it go?”
“Nope.”
“I’m not a prize to be won, Jeremiah. I’m worth more than that.”
He stalks toward me and pins me to the desk. His hips press against mine, stealing my breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps.
“Your brother told me you don’t do serious relationships. Are you just trying to win me? Then forget about me?”
He takes a step back, nearly tripping over a heavy hiking boot. His nostrils flare. “How could you question our friendship?”
“I’m—”
“No. Let me get this out.” He paces the room. “I care about you. I care about you like I’ve never cared about anybody before. More than my family. More than my brother.”
I close my eyes and grab his desk chair to hold myself up.
He goes on, “I’ve wanted you since the moment we met.”
My instincts tell me to rush out of the room, but the tug to stay with him is too strong.
“I never wanted a relationship with a girl before you,” he goes on. “My life moved too fast to slow down for anybody. But this entire summer I’ve been going slow. I’ve been waiting for you. And I can wait as long as you need. I can’t say I know how you feel or tell you how to feel better, but I can wait. I’ll be your friend.
“But don’t insult me. I haven’t been with another girl since I met you. I don’t consider you some prize to be won.”
By the time he’s done speaking, he’s panting and there’s a vulnerability in his eyes I’ve never seen before. It scares me. But it also knocks something loose.
He can wait.
“Jere?”
“Hmm?”
I reach a hand out to him. “I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“Always.”
We stand quietly, staring at each other, holding hands.
I ask, “If I’m ready for some things with you, but not other stuff, will you be mad?”
Searching my eyes, he gently rubs his thumb against my palm. “I’m ready for whatever you’re ready for.”
I take a deep breath. “I met Kyle after I smashed him in the head with a volleyball.” Jeremiah dips his head and smiles sadly, listening as I tell the story of my first love. I describe our first fight—how Kyle had signed up for the Homecoming kissing booth, not understanding we were in a real relationship and people in relationships don’t kiss other people in kissing booths, even if it is for charity.
