Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(100)

I glared at him. He sat on the couch, his hair wet from the shower. And still without a shirt. He was doing it to get to me. So I decided not to play fair, except now I was worried I’d cut too much off the jeans. I could feel the material riding up. I wanted to pull them down, but knew he was waiting for it. So instead, I continued outside.

‘Emma!’ Evan hollered, practically jumping off the couch. ‘Okay. I’ll put on a shirt. Now please come inside and put on a pair of shorts that cover what shorts are supposed to cover.’

I smiled proudly and stalked past him as he shoved his head through his T-shirt. ‘Truce?’

‘Truce,’ he mumbled, lowering his shirt over his taut stomach. ‘Do you still want to go to the surf shop?’

‘Yes,’ I hollered, closing the bedroom door behind me.

When I stepped out of the house, I was surprised to find a red, boxy-looking truck with a black canvas top. I flipped my eyes towards Evan curiously.

‘Whose is this?’ I asked, stepping up and pulling myself onto the seat. A waft of worn leather filled the cab. I examined the shiny red metal and black leather interior, with its small round instruments and bucket seats.

‘Mine,’ Evan answered, shutting the door behind me.

‘Where’d it come from?’ I asked when he entered his side. Despite the obvious age of the vehicle, it was in really good condition and appeared to be newly painted.

‘The garage dropped it off this morning,’ Evan explained, starting it. ‘They were converting it to biodiesel, so I had to wait a while.’

He began to pull out of the driveway. ‘Evan, stop,’ I demanded. He braked and put it in neutral. ‘Explain. Now. All of it.’

‘Explain what? Biodiesel?’ he said with a devilish grin.

‘Evan!’ I scolded. The smile dropped from his face.

His eyes flickered in deliberation. ‘Just say it,’ I pushed.

‘I needed a vehicle because I transferred to Stanford, and I start classes next quarter. And I went to San Francisco earlier this week to meet my mother because she wanted to see the place I’d picked out before I signed the lease.’

I blinked. That’s all I could do. The rest of me was stunned into paralysis. I finally asked, ‘Why are you going to Stanford?’

‘It was my first choice,’ he answered. He continued out of the driveway, leaving me staring at him from the passenger seat.

‘Okay,’ I breathed. ‘Okay. It was your first choice. Okay.’

I was expecting yelling, or at least some sign of annoyance. But she just sat there repeating ‘Okay’ over and over, like she was trying hard to accept it.

‘What’s your major?’ Emma asked about five minutes into the drive.

‘I have a double major in business and education,’ I told her. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

‘Oh.’ She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Education, huh? Serena’s boyfriend is an education major. I think he’s coming up tomorrow. You can talk to him.’

My shoulders relaxed. A small smile eased onto my face as we drove into town.

I was trying to remain calm. I didn’t know if I was actually pulling it off, but maybe asking questions would keep me from freaking out.

‘So you got a place off campus?’

‘Yeah,’ he answered. ‘A studio. It’s small, but I won’t have room-mates. This guy converted the space above his garage to rent out.’

‘Nice,’ I responded, with a casual nod that I hoped hid my turbulent thoughts. He’d sworn he hadn’t come here to get me back. And I knew the transfer deadline was months ago, so this had to have been something he planned to do way before seeing me again.

That’s when it all fell into place. Stanford was his first choice, and I’d screwed that up when I left. When I’d given Vivian that letter … And this was yet another choice I’d taken away from him.

‘I think you’re going to like it here.’ I smiled softly, rubbing my damp palms on my cargo shorts.

‘I think so too.’

We pulled into the lot at the surf shop. ‘Ready?’

She laughed at me. ‘Excited much?’

‘You have no idea.’ I grinned stupidly, jumping out of the truck.

I walked around towards her side, but she’d already opened her door. As she climbed out, I noticed her bandaged feet.

‘No socks today,’ I noted.

‘It’s getting better,’ she explained. ‘They’re not as tender, so I figured Band-Aids were enough.’

I held the shop door open for her, and we headed to the front counter.

Evan’s face was beaming as we scanned the racks of surfboards. I smiled at his excitement.

The inventory was overwhelming at first, but when I found a design by a local artist, I knew I had to have it. Much to Evan’s disappointment, the only longboard with that design was in their shop in Cardiff. We’d have to wait a few days for it to be delivered.

After I found a wetsuit that fit and selected a few rash guards, Evan and the guy behind the counter continued talking ‘surf’, so I decided to browse the bathing suits, wanting to find a better style for surfing.

I selected a few that looked like they wouldn’t fall off if – when – I wiped out, and then I came across the dental-floss suits. I held up a hot pink one, trying to understand what parts all the strings covered.