The Air He Breathes

  “We’re all a little wild, and we’re all a little something.”

  She turned to me, a silly grin finding her lips. “Oh shit. You like him.”

  “What? No. He just helps around the house. Mostly with the lawn.”

  Her voice took on a loud shout—she had no clue how to whisper. “Are you sure it’s just the lawn? Or does he help unclog your drains too?”

  “Faye! Shut up.”

  “Does he wash your dirty dishes? Your dishes were always so, so filthy.”

  “I’m not doing this with you.” I blushed. “Anyway, I need your input. Which layout do you like the best for the living room and dining room area? I want to incorporate his wood pieces that he makes. Tristan builds a lot with wood and I think—”

  “Is his wood good? Thick? Does Tristan have thick, long wood?”

  I stared at her with narrow eyes. “Is your mind always in the gutter?”

  “Always, babycakes. Always. You like him, though. I can tell.”

  “Not at all.”

  “You like him.”

  With a whisper and a turn of my stomach, I stared at Tristan, who was staring back at me. “Yeah. I like him.”

  “Jesus, Liz. Only you would fall for an asshole dude who ends up looking like Brad Pitt circa Legends of the Fall. Get it?” She smiled. “Legends of the Fall—character’s name was Tristan?”

  “Well, aren’t you clever?”

  “It’s almost ridiculous.”

  I laughed. “Almost.”

  She stepped in closer and studied my face. “What’s that?”

  “What’s what?”

  “That weird goofy grin you’re giving me—holy face full of sex! You slept with him!”

  “What? No, I—”

  “Don’t try to outsmart the sexoholic, Liz. You totally boned him!”

  Like a little girl who’d just gotten her first kiss, I squirmed. “I totally boned him!”

  “Sweet Jesus! Yes!” She stood up on the front porch and started chanting. “YES! YES! YES!!! The drought is over!”

  Tristan turned our way and raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay, ladies?”

  I pulled Faye back down to sit and giggled. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Including that sweet ass of his,” Faye muttered with a smirk. “So, how was it?”

  “Well, let’s just say I gave his thing a nickname.”

  Tears formed in her eyes and her hands flew over her heart. “My little girl is growing up. Okay, what’s the name?”

  “The Incredible Hulk.”

  She cringed. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “The Incr—”

  “No, no. I heard you the first time. You mean that green monster thing? Liz, are you fucking a guy with a green penis? Because if you are, you need a tetanus shot.” She eyed me up and down, cringing. “And higher standards.”

  I laughed. “Can I tell you the truth about Tristan and me without you giving me a scolding?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “We used sex with each other to remember Steven and Jamie. It’s kind of like…we used each other to have the feeling we used to get with them.”

  “You mean you like, envision Steven while Tristan’s screwing you?”

  “Yeah. I mean, well, at first I did. We don’t do it anymore, though. I got way too emotional and couldn’t handle it.”

  “But now you like him.”

  “Yeah. Which is bad, because he was just seeing Jamie when he was with me.”

  Faye’s eyes glanced over at Tristan. “Bullshit.”

  “What?”

  “He sees you, Liz.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Listen, coming from a girl who has slept with a ton of different guys and has envisioned Channing Tatum for most of those guys, I can tell the difference between when a person is thinking about you and when they are thinking about someone else. Look at the way he’s staring at you.”

  I glanced over at Tristan to find his stare, once again, on me. Did he really think about me when we were together?

  And if it were true that he did, why did the idea of that make me so happy? I shook my head back and forth, not wanting to really face the fact of what was happening between Tristan and me. “So what’s the deal with you and Matty? How’s that going?”

  “Terrible.” She sighed, slamming her hand against her face. “I need to break things off with him.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because like a loser I went ahead and fell in love with him.”

  My eyes lit up. “You’re in love.”

  “I know, it’s awful. I drink every night to try to forget about it. Now shut up and let’s go back to talking about Tristan’s wood.”

  I smiled and after a few hours and about a hundred dirty comments, Faye and I picked out the colors for each and every room in his house.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Elizabeth

  A few days passed before Sam called me up on Friday to ask if I was interested in hanging out with him. I’d figured he had forgotten he said he would show me around town months before, but I guessed some people were just a little slower getting around to things. On Friday night he pulled up to my house in his family’s work truck. I watched him from the living room window as he hopped out of his truck and fixed his bowtie. He started stepping toward the house, and then he paused and stepped backward. This went on for about five more rounds before he finally made it up the porch, where he debated knocking or not.

  Tristan leaned behind me and studied Sam’s movements. “Ohh, you got a hot date tonight? Is that why you’re wearing that cute little dress?” For the past few days, Tristan had been staying in our guest room since his house was being painted. That night we’d been going over my ideas for his house and I’d been showing him different boards I’d created with ideas for the space. He seemed less than interested, but I was just happy to be doing what I loved once again.

  “It’s not a date,” I said. “Sam just wanted to show me around Meadows Creek a bit, to get me out of the house.” Tristan cocked an eyebrow. “What? What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

  “You do know that he thinks this is a date, right?”

  “What?” I stood up a tad. “No, he doesn’t. He just doesn’t want me sitting around the house.” Tristan gave me a bullshit-it’s-totally-a-date look. “Shut up, Tris.”

  “All I’m saying is I doubt Stalker Sam knows that it’s not a date.”

  “What does that mean? What do you mean Stalker Sam?” I asked, my voice timid. Tristan gave me a wicked grin and started walking away. “Tristan! What do you mean Stalker Sam?!”

  “Ever since he moved into town he has a history of coming on a little strong sometimes, that’s all. I’d watch him follow girls around in town when I would be out running. Did he say where he was taking you?”

  “Yes, and it’s not really a place where dates happen, so I think you’re wrong.”

  “The town hall meeting?”

  “Exactly!” I said, pleased with the idea. “The town hall meeting isn’t a place you take someone you think you’re going on a date with.” Tristan’s lips pressed together as if he was trying to hold in a chuckle. “Stop it,” I argued. There was one knock on the door. “He doesn’t really think this is a date, does he?”

  “I bet ten dollars Stalker Sam leans over to you during Sherriff Johnson’s speech about the town fair and asks you if you want to go down to the barn house where there’s always a fish fry, dancing, and karaoke after the town meeting.”

  “You don’t want to pay me ten dollars.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m going to win the bet,” he joked cockily. “Stalker Sam is going to woo you.”

  Knock number two.

  “Stop calling him Stalker Sam!” I whispered, feeling my heartbeats increase. “He’s not going to ask me to the barn house.”

  “You bet money on it?” he said, holding his hand out.

  I shook
his hand. “Fine. Ten dollars that this isn’t a date.”

  “Ah, easiest money I ever made, Lizzie.”

  The nickname left his mouth as if it was effortless. When I pulled my hand back from his, I tried not to show how much the simple nickname affected me.

  Knock number three.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You called me Lizzie.” His eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “It’s just…no one called me that except for Steven.”

  “Sorry,” he said, nodding a little. “It slipped out.”

  “No, no. I like it.” I’ve missed it. I gave him a small smile. We stared at each other, standing still as if the soles of our shoes were super-glued to the floor. My eyes traveled to the small unfinished tattoo on his left hand, and I forced myself to take it in, instead of his stare; sometimes it was too much looking him in the eyes. “I like it.”

  “Then I’ll keep saying it.”

  Knock number four.

  “You should probably…” Tristan’s head nodded in the direction of the door. I shook my head and agreed, rushing to open the door to Sam, who was giving me the biggest smile and holding a bunch of flowers in his hands.

  “Hey, Elizabeth.” Sam smiled, stretching his hands out to me with the flowers. “Wow. You look beautiful. These are for you. I was sitting out here, and realized I didn’t bring you anything, so, I don’t know. I just picked them from the front of the house for ya.” His eyes moved to Tristan, who was standing a few feet from us. “What’s that asshole doing here?”

  “Oh, Sam. This is Tristan. Tristan, Sam,” I said, introducing the two. “Tristan’s house is being painted, so he’s staying with Emma and me for a few days.”

  Tristan held his hand out toward Sam with his beautiful smile. “Nice to meet ya, Sam.”

  “You too, Tristan,” Sam said warily.

  Tristan patted him on the back, his wolfish grin in full force. “Oh, no need to be so formal with my name. By all means, call me asshole.”

  I giggled to myself. What a jerk.

  Sam cleared his throat. “Anyway, sorry about the flowers. I should’ve thought to grab some from town but—”

  “Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Tristan said, knowing he was making him feel extra levels of discomfort. “How about you come on in and take a seat in the living room while Elizabeth and I find a vase or something to toss the flowers in?”

  “Oh, okay, yeah, sounds good,” Sam agreed, allowing me to take the flowers from his grip. “Careful,” he said. “They have thorns.”

  “I think I can handle it. Thanks, Sam. Take a seat and I’ll be right back.”

  The moment I stepped into the kitchen, Tristan was already giving me a smartass grin. “If you keep looking at me like that, I will beat you up, Tristan. This doesn’t mean it’s a date.” He snickered. I narrowed my eyes. “It doesn’t!”

  “He stole flowers for you from the front of your house. It’s much more serious than I thought. He loves you. That’s like a Bonnie and Clyde type love.”

  “You’re an ass.” He started filling up a vase with water for the flowers. As I passed them to him, a thorn landed in my finger and I cursed under my breath as blood started to appear. “Crap.”

  Tristan took the flowers, tossed them into the vase, and then took my hand in his, examining the small bit of blood. “It’s not too bad,” he said, grabbing a rag and holding it against my finger. My stomach was building with butterflies that didn’t have a place in my life. I tried my best to ignore them, but the truth was, Tristan’s touch was nice, gentle, and wanted. “Stalker Sam was right about one thing, though,” Tristan said with his stare on my finger.

  “And what’s that?”

  “You do look beautiful.” Our hands stayed together, and he stepped in closer to me. I liked how close he was. I loved how close he was. His breaths were heavy. “Lizzie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you be mad if I kissed you? And by kiss you, I mean you, not the memory of Jamie.” His eyes studied my lips. My heart was pounding against my ribcage as he moved in closer and brushed a fallen piece of hair behind my ear. Our hands stayed attached for a second longer before he cleared his throat and pulled away from me. A wave of embarrassment filled his eyes. “Sorry. Ignore me.” I blinked a few times and tried to shake the nervous feeling away. It wouldn’t leave. He knotted his hands together before resting them on the back of his neck. “You better get back to your date.”

  “It’s not a—” I started to say, but when I noticed his lips turning down a bit, I dropped the subject. “Have a good night.”

  He nodded once. “You too, Lizzie.”

  I stared up at the podium where Tanner was speaking about why Needful Things should be closed down. It made me sick to my stomach listening to him tear into Mr. Henson, who was sitting a few rows back at the town meeting. Mr. Henson didn’t seem fazed by Tanner’s words at all, though. He just sat and smiled.

  I’d never truly seen that side of Tanner—the business driven side of him. The one who would say and do pretty much anything to get his way, even if that meant throwing a nice old man under the bus.

  It left me with such a taste of disgust.

  “Tanner has some great reasons why Mr. Henson should give up his store. He says it’s a waste of space since nobody ever goes into the place.”

  “I think it’s a great store.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in there?”

  “Many times.”

  “And you haven’t grown warts or anything? Mr. Henson practices voodoo and stuff in his back room. Turns out when the Clintons’ cat Molly went missing, someone saw her wander into Mr. Henson’s store, and I kid you not, Molly came out as a pit bull dog. Even answered to the name and all. It’s freaky.”

  Chuckling, I said, “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “Heck yeah I do. I’m surprised you didn’t come out with a third eye or something after going into that place.”

  “Oh, I did. I’m just really good with makeup.”

  He chuckled. “You make me laugh, Elizabeth. I like that about you.” His eyes locked with mine, and he gave me a longing stare. Oh no…

  I broke our stare and pointed to someone else. “What about them? What’s their story?”

  He didn’t get a chance to tell me, because Sherriff Johnson was walking up to the stage.

  The moment Sherriff Johnson stepped up to the microphone to speak about the town fair I knew I owed Tristan ten dollars. Right on cue, Sam leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You know, I was thinking maybe we can go to the fish fry after this. It’s real good and there’s a lot of dancing and stuff that goes on. It’s a great time.”

  I smiled. I wasn’t sure how to turn him down. He looked so hopeful. “Well…” His eyes widened with a sparkle of excitement. “I would love that.”

  He took his baseball cap off his head and slapped it against his knee. “Woo! Awesome, awesome, awesome!”

  Sam couldn’t stop smiling wide and I couldn’t stop feeling as if going with him was a major mistake. Plus, I was out ten bucks, which sucked.

  Sam and I sat in two chairs watching everyone else dance around drunkenly and freely as he told me the backstory of each and every person in the room. He turned to face me and said, “I hope you’re having fun.”

  “I am.” I smiled.

  “Maybe we can go on another date at some point?”

  My jaw tightened. “Sam, you’re a wonderful person, but I don’t really think I’m in a place to be dating. You know what I mean? My life is currently a mess.”

  He released a nervous chuckle and nodded in understanding. “I get it. I just…” He placed his hands on his knees and our gazes met. “I had to try. Just had to put myself out there.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “So you said you’re not ready to date? Are you sure it has nothing to do with your feelings for Tristan?” he asked.

  “What?”

  A smile found his lips. “I rea
d people, remember? I saw the way you looked at him at your house. He makes you happy. I think that’s nice.”

  “We’re just friends,” I argued.

  He kept smiling, but didn’t say another word about it.

  I nudged him in the shoulder and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to get out there and dance?”

  He wringed his fingers together and looked at the ground. “I ain’t much of a dancer. I’m more of a watcher.”

  “Come on,” I said, holding my hand out toward him. “It will be fun.”

  Sam hesitated for a while longer before he reached out and took my hand. We walked to the dance floor and I watched as his nerves built up more and more. His stare was trained on his tennis shoes and I could see him counting his steps in his head.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  “Eye contact helps,” I offered. He didn’t comment. He just kept counting, as his face got more and more flushed with nerves. “You know what, I could really go for some water,” I said. Sam’s eyes met mine and he gave me a smirk.

  “I can get some for you,” he said, thankful that he wouldn’t have to dance anymore. I returned to my seat, and when he came back with the water, he handed it to me and sat. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  He cleared his throat and pointed out to someone else on the dance floor. “That over there is Susie. I guess she was the hot dog eating champion for years at the town fair. And over there is—”

  “What about you, Sam? Tell me something about you.”

  There was hesitation in his eyes before he blinked and shrugged his shoulders. “There’s not much to me.”

  “I’m sure that’s a lie,” I offered. “Why are you working at the café if your dad offered you a full time spot at his business?” He studied my face, and I stared at his. His eyes were so handsome, but I could tell he was uncomfortable for some reason.

  He broke the eye contact. “My dad wants me to take over the family business, but it’s not what I want.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Be a chef,” he said. “I figured working at the café would be a start to learning a bit more about it until I could save up for school, but I’m never allowed back by the kitchen, so it’s kind of a bust.”