Just Remember to Breathe (Thompson Sisters)

your attackers weight against him. Roll, rather than push.”
    I nodded. I was still winded. “You going to be up for it? I can get pretty mean.”
    He smiled. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said.
    I looked at him and said, “Why don’t we all go grab some breakfast. It’s been a while.”
    Doubt clouded his face. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
    Sherman shook his head. “Come on, Dylan. It’s only breakfast. Let’s go.”
    He sighed. “All right.”
    So, wet and dirty as we were, we walked the five blocks to Tom’s. Sitting down, we all ordered coffee, and I pulled my legs up under me in the seat.
    “You looking forward to going home?” Dylan asked.
    I shook my head. “No, not really. Anxious. My parents can be just a little over-controlling. And I’ve not been very, um, communicative this fall. To tell the truth, I’ve barely spoken with them. It’s going to be one long, tense week. And all my sisters are coming into town, which will mean chaos.”
    “Speaking of sisters,” Sherman said. “I guess I should break the news. I’m going to Texas the week after Thanksgiving. You know, for a campus visit.”
    “Oh, my God,” I said. “Does Carrie know?”
    He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve applied at Rice. Don’t know if I can get in; my grades aren’t as fantastic as my looks, you know. But close.”
    I laughed. “Good luck,” I said, smiling.
    “So, you know her better than I do. What’s a good gift to take?”
    “Condoms,” I replied.
    They both burst into laughter, and Sherman gave Dylan a high five. I blushed.
    “Sorry. Sometimes I forget to consult my brain before I speak.”
    “In all seriousness, though… you know, Carrie’s hardly dated at all. She’s always been so career-focused. Not to mention that a lot of guys are intimidated by her height, and her looks. She mostly gets complete assholes chasing after her. You’re a nice change, Ray.”
    He grinned, then said, “I’ve been practicing my nice-guy exterior. But I’m pretty much an asshole underneath.”
    “Whatever. Just get her something nice. Something… unusual. She’s got a ton of clothes and jewelry… my Dad gives her lots of money. He treats her like she’s a model. But something thoughtful, and different, would be perfect.”
    He nodded seriously, then said, “Oh, shit, look at the time. I gotta go—see you guys later!”
    I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t actually looked at the time before he said it. Instead, he dropped a twenty on the table and practically ran out.
    “See you guys later,” he called as he went for the front door.
    “Jesus,” Dylan said. “That was a setup.”
    “You think so?” I asked.
    “Yeah. He wanted to dump us alone with each other.”
    “I wonder why?”
    He looked at me, and swallowed. Then he took a deep breath, and said, “Probably because I told him last night that I’ve been having second thoughts.”
    I looked away from him, suddenly numb in my fingers and toes, feeling as if I had stuck my head in a refrigerator. “Second thoughts about what?”
    He sighed, then said, “About… me and you. Us. About my decision to walk away.”
    I stared at the black and white checks of the wall near us, trying to maintain control of myself. I didn’t answer. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. Because this hurt. This really hurt. I’d done this to myself, knowing that if I kept hanging around, he’d eventually start to waver. And now he had. It was what I wanted. But not exactly.
    When I didn’t answer, he continued awkwardly, his voice sounding very, very sad.
    “Look,” he said. “I know I hurt you. I know I screwed up. And… maybe I’m hoping you’ll give me a second chance.”
    I still couldn’t answer. My mind was running visions of us at a thousand miles a second. Running together around Central Park in the darkness before sunrise. Huddled together in his room or mine. The night we held each other in a breathless, awkward, yet wonderful make-out session in Golden Gate Park.
    I closed my eyes. I could see those things, but I had to remember other things. Being curled up in my bed, not knowing if he was alive or dead. And him not having enough respect for me to tell me to my face why he wouldn’t have anything more to do with me.
    “Will you consider it?” he asked.
    Dylan rarely opened up so much, rarely made himself vulnerable like this. It was legitimate: I could see it in his eyes. I could see it in the very slight, almost