Breathe with Me
Page 3

“I love you, baby,” he whispers softly.
“I love you too.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”
He links his fingers with mine and holds our hands against the bed next to my head. God, he’s so damn big. And it’s uncomfortable, but it feels really, different. Full. Our breaths are coming really fast, and then he starts to move, like he just can’t help it. His hips pull back and then push back in, slow at first and then faster.
“Oh my God, this is so fucking amazing,” he says with awe. “I’m so glad you’re my first, M.”
“Me too,” I say, happy that he’s talking. It seems awkward when we’re quiet. We talk nonstop. “I’m so happy that we waited for each other.”
“I want to be your only, baby.”
“You do?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s you and me, M and M, against the world.” His hips are moving faster, and I can feel my eyes fill with tears as his whole body tenses. God, I’ve never felt anything like this in my life. It’s as though we’re not just connected physically, but in every way. “Oh God, baby. I’m going to come.”
“Okay.” I caress his face with my hands. “That’s a good thing, right? Come, M.”
“Oh, shit.” His face contorts in this weird mask, like he’s in immense pain, and I can’t take my eyes off him. Wow.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“I think I’m supposed to ask you that,” he replies, breathing hard.
“I’m really good,” I say and smile reassuringly. But you need to pull out because… ow.
“I love you, M.” He leans his forehead on mine gently.
“I love you too, M.”
***
One year later
I’ve never been this fucking nervous in my life. Not even that first time that Mark and I had sex. I grin as I think back on that night, and the many, many times we’ve had sex since then. My Mark is insatiable and we’ve learned so much about each other over the past year.
He’s not going to be mine much longer.
I pull in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I see his car pull into my driveway. We graduated from high school last week. It was a proud moment for both of us, for our families, who threw us a huge party.
And we’re supposed to leave for New York City together in two days.
“Hey, baby,” he says with his signature naughty grin as he meets me on the porch and hugs me close. “Are you packing?”
“Yes,” I reply and bury my nose in his neck, knowing this might be the last time I have the right to do this.
“What’s wrong?” He pulls away and studies my face. He knows me too damn well. “M?”
“I don’t think you should come with me to New York,” I say it really fast, like pulling off a Band Aid.
He blinks and frowns. “What are you talking about? We’ve been talking about this for the past year.”
“I know, it’s just…” I push my fingers through my hair and barely hold on to my sanity. “I need to concentrate on dance, Mark.”
“Okay.” He shakes his head like he just doesn’t get it. “Why the change of heart?”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“How long?”
“A few months,” I whisper. Since the day my instructor pulled me aside when she caught me daydreaming about Mark and yelled at me about responsibilities and how hard it’s going to be in New York.
“Months?” He rubs his fingers over his mouth and begins to look a little panicked. “Mer, where is this coming from? Is there someone else?”
“Of course not!” I gape at him like he’s lost his marbles. “You know I love you so much it hurts!”
“Then why?”
“Because I have to concentrate on dance, Mark. This is going to be the hardest thing I ever do. The days are super long, and it’s so competitive.”
“So you’re saying I’ll just be in the way?” He props his hands on his hips and glares at me and I feel the first tear fall.
“You’ll be a distraction that I can’t afford, M.” I take a step to him, begging him with my eyes to understand, but he steps away.
“I don’t want to do the long distance thing, Meredith.”
“I don’t either.” It’s a whisper, and his face pales when he realizes what, exactly this means.
“You’re breaking it off?”
“I love you, Mark.”
“But you’re breaking it off.”
“I just think that we’re so young, and I have to focus on dance.”
He takes another step away, blinking blindly, and I know I’m breaking his heart.
“So much for M and M against the world,” he spits out.
“Mark, come inside and talk to me.”
“No, you’ve said enough.” He stops and stares at me as I cry, tears in his own eyes. “Good luck to you, Meredith.”
With that he shakes his head and leaves, and I run inside to find my mom crying in the living room, having heard our conversation.
“Mom,” I cry and fall into her arms.
“Oh, baby girl,” she coos. “I’m so sorry for both of you.”
“What did I just do?” I am crying uncontrollably, leaning on my strong mother.