The Air He Breathes

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 read 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.”

“I can talk to Matty about letting you get in the kitchen sometimes,” I offered.

A genuine smile rose on his lips and he thanked me, but declined the offer, saying he would figure it out on his own. He pushed himself to a standing position. “Well, this is getting a bit too Dr. Phil for my liking, so I’m going to head over and get me some more catfish. Do you need anything?” he asked. I shook my head and watched him walk away.

“Oh thank God, you’re still alive,” muttered a voice next to me. I turned as Tristan slid into Sam’s seat.

“What are you doing here?” I’m so happy you’re here. I like when you’re here. Ask me the kissing question again.

“Well,” he began to explain. “When a friend goes on a date with Stalker Sam, it’s your responsibility to check in on that friend.”

Friend.

I’d been friend-zoned. Ask me the kissing question! Please.

“And since when are you the responsible friend?” I asked, playing nonchalant about the fact that my stomach was doing cartwheels and somersaults while unicorns and kittens danced around inside of me.

“Since about…” He glanced down at the invisible watch on his right wrist. “Five seconds ago. It sounded like fun to come and watch you and Sam make complete fools of each other.” He tapped his fingers against his kneecaps, avoiding eye contact with me.

Oh my gosh…

He was jealous.

I wouldn’t mock him about it, though. “Dance with me?” I asked.

When his hand reached out for mine, my heart skipped a beat. I placed my hand in his and he led us to the dance floor. He spun me around once before pulling me closer to his body. My breaths were short and fast as I stared into his eyes. What are you thinking, stormy eyes? He stood inches over me, never letting his hold on me falter. I could feel the eyes of every person in the place staring at us. I could almost hear their judgments, their whispers.

My head lowered, my stare falling to the ground. I felt his finger lift my chin and he forced my stare to meet his, which was fine. I liked looking at him and I liked the way he looked at me. Even though I wasn’t certain what it meant—the two of us staring at each other the way we were.

“You lied to me,” I said.

“Never.”

“You did.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“But you lied.”

“About what?”

“The white feathers. I saw the receipt for them. You said you found them at Mr. Henson’s shop.”

He chuckled and frowned. “I might have lied to you about that.”

I leaned in closer to his lips, seconds away from kissing him, seconds away from our first kiss where he was him, and I was me.

My hands fell against his chest and I could feel his heartbeats against my touch. I could almost see his soul within his eyes. The song stopped, but we stayed close, our breathing patterns matching each other’s. Our breaths heavy and nervous. Excited and scared. His thumb ran alongside my neck, and he stepped in closer. I liked how close he was. I feared how close he was. He tilted his head slightly as he gave me the smallest crooked smile, staring at me as if he was promising to never look away.

They all warned me about Tristan, begging me to stay away. ‘He’s an asshole, he’s wild, and he’s broken, Liz,’ they would say. ‘He’s nothing but the ugly scars of his yesterdays,’ they swore.

But what they didn’t see, what they chose to ignore was the fact that I was also a little wild, a bit crazy, and completely shattered too.

I was damaged goods at best.

But when I was with him, at least I remembered to breathe.

“Mind if we switch partners?” A familiar voice interrupted me from falling into Tristan’s taste. I looked up to see Tanner smiling toward me with Faye in his arms.

I smiled, even though I kind of wanted to frown. “Of course.”

As Tanner took my hand, Tristan took Faye’s. I missed him even though he was only a few steps away from me.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Tanner said, pulling me close to him. “I know I have two left feet, but I can still move my hips pretty well,” he joked.

“I happen to remember a certain holiday party where you won the award for the best worst dancer.”

He crinkled up his nose. “I still think that my shopping cart dance should’ve won the best dancer, but with your husband as the judge, I knew I would be screwed over.”

I laughed. “The shopping cart. How did that one go again?”

With two steps back, Tanner started pretending that he was pushing a shopping cart and placing items into said shopping cart. He then started to invisibly place his items on a check-out lane where he scanned his food and bagged it up. I couldn’t stop laughing. He smirked and moved back to me, falling into our much slower and easier dance routine.

“Perfect. You really should’ve won the best dancer that night.”

“Right?!” He bit his bottom lip. “I was screwed.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure there are plenty of holiday parties in the future that you can reclaim your victory.”

He nodded in agreement and combed my hair behind my ear. “God. I missed you, Liz.”

“I missed you, too. Gosh, I’ve missed everyone. It just feels good to…feel again.”

“Yeah. Man, that has to be great. So this is the point where I clear my throat and take a leap of faith, asking you if you want to maybe get dinner with me at some point.”

“Dinner?” I asked, taken back by his question. “Like a date?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tristan dancing with Faye.

“Well, not like a date. But an actual date. Me and you. I know this probably seems weird and all but—”

“I’m kind of seeing someone, Tanner.”

His face dropped, confusion in his stare. “Seeing someone?” He stood straighter, uttering his fogged mind. “Are you seeing Sam? I know you two came together, but I didn’t think he was your type. I didn’t think—”

“It’s not Sam.”

“It’s not?” His stare moved across the room, landing on Tristan and Faye. When he looked back at me, the playfulness I’d seen moments before was gone. All color was drained from his face, where a new vibrant irritation now existed. “Tristan Cole?! You’re seeing Tristan Cole?!” he whisper-shouted. I cringed. I wasn’t exactly seeing Tristan. I truly had no clue how he even felt about me, but I knew I had these feelings for him—and I couldn’t ignore them much longer.

“You come back to town and you pick the absolute worst person to start dating.”

“He’s not as terrible as everyone thinks.”

“You’re right, he’s even worse.”

“Tanner.” I placed my hands against his chest. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t mean to feel whatever it is I’m feeling for him, but you can’t help who you fall for.”

“Yes. You can. Tristan and Mr. Henson are not the kinds of people you want to be associated with.”

“What’s your problem with Mr. Henson’s shop anyway? Mr. Henson is one of the kindest men I’d ever met.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re wrong, Liz. And I’m terrified that Tristan is going to hurt you.”

“He won’t.” He didn’t believe me. He somehow convinced himself that the idea of me and Tristan was a terrible thing. Just like the rest of the town. “Tanner, he won’t. Now, come on,” I said, pulling him closer to me, feeling how stiff his body was. “Just dance with your friend and stop worrying so much about me.”

“I’m worried about your heart, Liz. After Steven, you were destroyed. I don’t want your heart to get broken again.”

Oh, Tanner.

I lay my head against his chest, and he combed his fingers through my hair. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Well, I guess I’ll just need you to hug me sometimes.”