Just Remember to Breathe Read Free

hips and breasts; as always, she was like a fantasy.
    “I’m waiting for an appointment,” I said.
    “Here?” she asked.
    I nodded. “Work-study assignment,” I said.
    She started to laugh, a bitter, sad laugh. I’d heard that laugh before. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said.

Nothing significant at all (Alex)
    I was late when I got to the Arts and Sciences building, and ran up the six flights of steps to the third floor, knowing the elevator would take forever. I checked my phone. It was three o’clock. I needed to get there right now.
    I counted down the room numbers, finally reaching a dark hall. The light was out at the end of the hall, casting the area in not quite darkness. There it was, room 301. Next to the door, a student sat, his head resting on his fist, face turned away from me. He was reading a book.
    I took a breath. His hair reminded me of Dylan’s, but shorter, of course. That, and his arms were… well, very muscular, and he was tanned. This guy looked like someone out of a catalog. Not that I went fainting over guys with big biceps, but seriously, a girl can look, right?
    As I approached though, I felt my heart begin to thump in my chest. Because the closer I got, the more he looked like Dylan. But what would he be doing here? Dylan, who had broken my heart, then disappeared as if he’d never existed, his email deleted, Facebook page closed, Skype account gone. Dylan, who had erased himself from my life all because of a stupid conversation that shouldn’t have happened.
    I slowed down. It couldn’t be. It just… couldn’t be.
    He took a breath and shifted position slightly, and I gasped. Because sitting in front of me was the boy who’d broken my heart. Quietly, I said, “Oh, my God.”
    He jumped to his feet. Or rather tried to. He got about halfway up, and a look of excruciating pain swept across his face and he fell down, hard. I almost cried out, as he tried to force his way back up. I started forward to help, and he said his first words to me in six months: “Don’t touch me.”
    Typical. I had to stuff down the hurt that threatened to burst to the surface.
    He looked… different. Indefinably different. We hadn’t seen each other face to face in almost two years, not since the summer before my senior year in high school. He’d filled out, of course. In all the right places. His arms, which I vividly remembered being held in, had doubled in size. The sleeves of his tee shirt looked like they were going to burst. I guess the Army does that for you. His eyes were still the same piercing blue. For a second I met them, then looked away. I didn’t want to get trapped in those eyes. And damn it, he still smelled the same. A hint of smoke and fresh ground coffee. Sometimes when I walked into a coffee shop in New York, I’d get an overwhelming sensation that he was there, just from the smell. Sometimes memory sucks.
    “Dylan,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
    “I’m waiting for an appointment.”
    “ Here?” I asked. That was crazy.
    He shrugged. “Work-study assignment.”
    No. No way.  
    “Wait a minute… are you saying you’re in school here?”
    He nodded.  
    “What happened to the Army?” I asked.
    He shrugged, looked away, then gestured toward the cane.
    “So of all the schools you could have chosen, you came here? To the same place as me?”
    Anger swept over his face. “I didn’t come here for you, Alex. I came here because it was the best school I could get in to. I came here for me.”
    “What, did you think you could just show up and sweep me back into your arms after ignoring me for the last six months? After erasing me from your life?”
    He narrowed his eyes, looked at me directly. In a cold voice, he said, “Actually, I was hoping I just wouldn’t run into you.”
    I stifled a sob. I was not going to let him get to me. I spat back, “Well, looks like we both had some bad luck. Because I’m here for my work-study assignment,