Free Barely Breathing by Rebecca Donovan Page A

toast. I paused before turning around, not prepared for the confession―especially after all of the guys she'd hidden in the past month since my "breakfast" with Chris.
    I took a breath and turned to face her. "Really?" I tried to remember the last time I'd heard a visitor and narrowed it down to about a week or week and a half ago.
    "Except," she hesitated with a breath, "he's... younger. A lot younger, and I'm not sure how I feel about it." She appeared troubled, clearly looking to me for advice.
    "How old is he?" I asked, attempting to fill the role.
    "Twenty-eight," she grimaced, waiting for me to pass judgment. I didn't react. He was older than I'd expected, to be honest.
    "How old was Chris?" I asked, without thinking.
    Her face changed to a hue of red. "He was... young, but I had no interest in dating him."
    "Right," I nodded, flushing uncomfortably. "So, do you like him?"
    "Yes," she answered, her eyes lighting up. "He's so nice, and smart, and amazingly hot, and confident," she gushed, "but... he's so young, Emily. I have no idea what I'm doing."
    "Who cares," I offered with a shrug, taking on my role with a little more gusto. "You obviously like him, and if the age difference doesn't bother him, then... date him. I mean, is it serious?"
    "Not really," she admitted. "Not yet, anyway. We've only been on a couple of dates. But we have so much fun together, and he keeps asking to see me again."
    "Then do it," I urged, completely freaking out on the inside that I was encouraging my mother to date a younger guy, or to date at all. She beamed at my acceptance.
    "You're going to the concert with Evan tonight, right?" She took a sip of her coffee, unable to keep the smile from her face.
    "Yes," I replied, eyeing her jovial expression apprehensively.
    "Shit, I'm going to be late," she exclaimed suddenly, glancing at the clock on the microwave and jumping up from the chair. She looked to me and tensed excitedly, and before I knew it, she threw her arms around me and squeezed. I was too stunned to move. "Thank you," she squealed.
     
    As I was walking into school alongside Evan and Sara, my mother texted me. Going out with him again tonight! So excited! I couldn't help but laugh.
    "What's so funny?" Evan asked.
    "My mother's dating ," I explained with a shake of my head, "and she's more nervously excited about it than most girls at our school."
    Evan raised his eyebrows. "That's got to be interesting."
    "You have no idea," I responded, rolling my eyes.
    "She has more of a social life than I do," Sara added, having heard my spiels about my mother's late nights and the sleepovers she'd host.
    "Does she go out a lot?" Evan asked, not knowing any of it. I shot Sara a wide eyed glance.
    "Sometimes," I replied casually.
    When Evan was out of earshot, Sara stated, "I didn't know you didn't tell him about how much Rachel goes out."
    "I was afraid of how it would sound to him," I explained.
    "Who cares," Sara countered. "It's not like it's you who's bringing home strange men."
    "Yeah," I explained, "but I don't want him worrying about me being in the same house as the strange men ."
    Sara nodded, understanding how that would rouse Evan's protective side.
    "Besides," I continued, "she really seems to like this guy. So maybe the string of one-nighters is over."
    "Em, you never saw the guys. Maybe it was the same guy each night."
    I flipped my eyes toward her and shook my head. "Don't think so."
    "Oh," Sara said with a shocked look of understanding. "Well, let's hope he's a keeper."
     
    The sweat had barely dried from my skin, and my tank top and hair were still damp from the exertion when I ran into the house, slamming the door behind me and flying up the stairs. Of all the nights for Coach to torture us with sprints. It’s not like we lost by that much in yesterday afternoon’s game.
    I glanced at the clock as I pulled jeans from the closet and a long sleeved shirt from the dresser, tossing them on the bed. I had twenty minutes to get