Free Breathe Me (A 'Me' Novel) by Jeri Williams Page B

this again.
    “If you could do one thing, what would it be?” He continued to study me without waiting for my reply. Could he see how much I struggled with answering it?
    “What is this, twenty fucking questions?” I didn’t want to answer questions about myself, my dreams and hopes. He would never see me as more than a quick lay, and I, well, I would never see me as more pathetic than allowing it.
    It was all so very pointless.
    “I just want to get to know you, the real you,” he appeased.
    “What do you mean, the ‘real’ me? This is me,” I snapped unnecessarily at him.
    “Somehow I doubt that.” His gaze cut through me like a sharp wind.
    “How would you know? You don’t know me.”
    “Let’s see, you work in a bookstore because you love books, you probably live through them. You’re soft and self-conscious but pretend to be all hard and shit. You have been hurt and are afraid of something or someone, probably the same someone or something that hurt you, and…you’re beautiful, although I’m thinking you don’t think so because no one has told you enough. So how’s that?” He finished with a smugness to his face that should have bothered me, but didn’t.
    I was speechless.
    He read me like an open book, and I suppose I was, to anyone willing to look close enough. No one ever bothered to look at me twice, not even Ember, to figure out it was all an act. Fake. I was a fake, and it took this guy, this insanely beautiful man, who had known me for only a few days to see me. Really see me. It unnerved me. Who was this man?
    “All that proves is that you have stalker tendencies.” I played with my hair again, pulling it over my face to hide the shame I was needlessly feeling all of a sudden. I felt his warm grip lightly on my arm, moving my hand away so that he could look me in the eye.
    “Don’t hide from me, Harley.”
    Breathless. That’s what he left me.
    I couldn’t move his hand away, and I couldn’t stop staring into those eyes. Eyes that saw through my bullshit and mess and saw me .
    “I’m not. I’m just…I don’t know.” I blew out an exhausted breath. I had nothing. I couldn’t say anything. So I just looked away. I was a coward on top of everything else.
    He turned my face back to him gently. “Why are you so afraid?” His voice mirrored his touch.
    I couldn’t answer. I felt the stupid vulnerability giving away to shame, and my lips started quivering. Oh god, no, I couldn’t have a meltdown in front of him. I couldn’t. But yes, because why did I ever believe that I could be a normal twenty-three-year-old out with a boy? People liked to talk about panic attacks like they were cool, like it was the new fad. What was so cool about a tightening chest and racing pulse? I felt my breathing quicken, and my palms started to moisten with sweat. My chest squeezed and jumped, like there were a thousand horses galloping around inside of me.
    I was almost positive he could see my heart beating rapidly in my chest about to break free any minute. The thump , thump , thump of my heart was so loud it consumed me. My vision started to blur, and my head was swimming, I was going down in a matter of minutes over that stupid word. Afraid. I hated it. There was nothing I could do, no escape.
    “I need to go to the bathroom,” I blurted and ran toward the front of the diner where the restrooms were located. I made it through the door in a blur and collapsed behind it, clutching my chest and willing my breathing to slow down.
    Need to calm down.
    Breathe. Positive thoughts in, negative out. I kept repeating the mantra I read in a book once, but it wasn’t working for me now.
    Breathe.
    “Harley?”
    Fuck! He sounded like he was directly on the other side of the door, bent down to my level. How could he have known I was on the floor?
    “Harley, let me in. It’s okay.” He said softly before pushing the door, and me in the process, and sliding through the small crack he’d created. I