Short of Breath for You Read online

  When I reached her, she seemed to be having trouble breathing. Shit. She was having one of those attacks she used to get.

  What should I do?

  *****

  I tried to remember what the doctor had told me the day I took her in when she had one of those attacks at our tutoring session. Something about touch being calming and to do something that would take her mind off the anxiety - something monotonous.

  “Maddie, can you talk?” I asked, studying her in the white light of the phone. Her face looked scared and she was pulling increasingly shallow breaths into her lungs. She shook her head.

  Oh boy.

  I took her hand and led her over to the wall, helping her to sit down, leaning her back against the concrete blocks. Then I settled her hand more comfortably in mine and put the other hand on top.

  I searched my mind for something rhythmic and monotonous to say. And the last thing we had studied together popped into my head.

  “Sine is equal to the opposite over the hypotenuse. Cosine is equal to the adjacent over the hypotenuse. Tangent is equal to opposite over adjacent.”

  I used a quiet voice and spoke slowly, remembering what the doctor had said. It had freaked me out when she hadn’t been able to breathe and had made quite an impression on me. I had been determined to help her the next time.

  But there hadn’t been a next time.

  Because the class finished and she refused to go out with me.

  I hadn’t seen her again after that.

  I pushed aside my hurt feelings. What mattered was helping out an old friend -

  well, an acquaintance really, if I was being honest - and then getting out of this ridiculous situation I had got myself into. I’d calm her down, call her a cab, and go out to some club.

  I really needed a mindless hookup tonight.

  My dirty mind immediately imagined having Maddie in my bed in every position imaginable. I reminded myself that she didn’t want me. And that she was in trouble right now and I had no right to be fantasizing about her.

  The erotic dreams I’d had about her since I’d met her were bad enough.

  “Cosecant equals hypotenuse over opposite,” I continued listing all the trigonometric ratios. Then I went on to the pythagorean theorem. By the time I got to Double Angle Identities, her breathing seemed better.

  “Maddie?” I said, wondering if she would even speak to me. “Can you breathe now?”

  “Yes,” she said, sounding a lot better. “Except for the excruciating embarrassment of seeing you again under these circumstances.”

  I laughed.

  She always had a sharp sense of humour and the ability to make fun of herself without it seeming self-deprecating.

  “Yes, well, it isn’t exactly without awkwardness for me either. The only thing I was good for when I knew you back in college was playing hockey and now you come to see a game and I personally lose it for us. So not fair,” I said, wanting to make her feel better. But the words were also true.

  Hockey was the only thing I was really good at. And the one time an old crush comes to watch I play possibly my worst game ever? Excruciatingly embarrassing - as she had said.

  She chuckled and I felt relief course through me. She really was feeling better. That was good.

  “The tripping penalty? The rest of your team let them get that goal on the power play. That wasn’t on you.”

  She pulled her hand out of mine and I felt its loss.

  “Yeah, but if I hadn’t got the penalty they wouldn’t have had a power play in the first place.”

  “But Wright missed the shot.”

  “And I wouldn’t have, if I’d been on the ice,” I pointed out.

  “I thought there was no I in TEAM?” She joked.

  I gave her a wry grin.

  “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

  She shrugged.

  “One of us ought to,” she said.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” I suggested, getting to my feet and holding her arm as she stood up, too. “I’ll call you a cab?”

  “Nah, I’ve got my car,” she told me. “Thanks, Dylan. I appreciate your trigonometric recitation. It was really impressive.”

  I gave her a half-smile.

  “Guess you were paying attention at our tutoring sessions,” she said.

  “I was always paying attention, Maddie,” I said, meaning something else.

  She studied me, a confused look in her eyes.

  “People call me Madison now,” she said, as we walked slowly toward the door.

  “I guess you’re a hotshot architect?” I said.

  “Yes,” she stopped, looking up into my eyes. “You remember my major?”

  I nodded.

  I remembered everything about Maddie.

  It’s hard to forget your first serious crush who had shut you down so thoroughly that you hadn’t had the guts since then to tell any girl how you really felt.

  “Maybe we could get a coffee,” my traitorous mouth suggested before I could stop it. I reached out and turned the doorknob. “What the…?”

  The knob wouldn’t turn.

  I rattled it.

  “It’s locked?” Her eyes were wide.

  I looked at my phone.

  Eleven.

  “The arena’s closed,” I said, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “We mustn’t have heard when they locked the door because I was reciting trigonometry.”

  “Shit.”

  I agreed completely.

  “What are we going to do?”

  I looked down into Maddie’s green eyes and deliberately kept my gaze away from her chest. I could think of a hundred different things I wanted to do with Maddie.

  But I had a feeling that wasn’t what she meant.

  Chapter 4

  Madison

  No.

  This was the worst.

  Or the best?

  I couldn’t tell anymore. My brain wasn’t functioning having Dylan this close to me. And what did he mean when he said that he was always paying attention? Then he gave me that smouldering look that ought to have caught something on fire. I think maybe my panties were smoking.

  And he had been so sweet and kind when I was freaking out. He had even recited trigonometry. Now that was a man after my own heart.

  No. I didn’t want Dylan and his trigonometric ratios, I reminded myself.

  Even if his eyes were warm and kind. And he was tall and strong. And his lips looked firm and kissable. And that jaw covered in stubble… don’t get me started.

  I sighed. I was so confused.

  And now I was stuck in the zamboni room with Dylan for the night? That couldn’t be good.

  “We could shout for help?” He suggested in response to my question about what we should do. “But I honestly think it would be a waste of energy. The building’s closed. And the caretakers are gone home.”

  “Let’s at least find the light switch,” I said, and we felt all along the walls, looking everywhere a light switch might be placed. But we couldn’t find one.

  “It must be in the hall,” Dylan said.

  And of course, I’d been trying to hide from him so I hadn’t wanted any light. Plus I’d sort of been in a rush and freaking out so finding the light switch hadn’t been a high priority. Now, of course I wished I had turned it on. Being here in the dim light with Dylan was doing things to me.

  “Guess we’re stuck with the mood lighting,” he said, and his words made me tingle.

  Mood lighting? Seriously?

  I began to pace, needing some distance from him.

  He smelled like soap. And his hands had been smooth when he’d held mine, not rough the way I had imagined them.

  And yes, I had imagined Dylan’s hands. Going certain places. On my body.

  But that was a long time ago.

  I averted my eyes every time they landed on him because he was so handsome that I was sure if I locked gazes with him for any length of time I would melt like ice w
hen the cooling system failed. Into a puddle. On the floor.

  This thought brought me to an image of Dylan and I on the floor in a tangle of limbs.

  No, no, no. I needed to think. I was a smart woman. I could get us out of this.

  “Either we try and figure something to get out of here. I mean, they always make it look so easy on TV. Or we just sleep here,” I said, clearing my throat nervously at the thought of Dylan and I sleeping anywhere together. “The caretakers will let us out in the morning.”

  “Why don’t we see what’s here and try to decide if any of it could help?”

  “Good plan,” I agreed. Anything to keep my mind off the dirty things I wanted to do with Dylan in the semi-darkness.

  We searched the room and came up with… nothing. There was some junk in the closet at the back. But nothing that could get us out of here. Basically the room was just a garage where they parked the zamboni.

  We tried jimmying the lock with one of Dylan’s credit cards, but the door fit nice and tight and both the frame and the door were steel with no give to them.

  We could have unscrewed the hinges if they had been on this side. And if we had a screwdriver. But they weren’t. And we didn’t.

  We tried breaking the window but we had nothing heavy enough to break the small pane of thick glass.

  “How can there not be any tools in here?” I said, frustrated. “The card won’t work. But a screwdriver would.”

  “Too bad you hadn’t put your hair up in a bun,” Dylan said, his tone regretful. “I know how to pick a lock with bobby pins.”

  I lifted my eyebrows.

  “In college my neighbours were constantly locking themselves out of their room.”

  “So you learned how to pick a lock with bobby pins?”

  “The internet has a lot of useful information, Maddie. I mean, Madison. And my neighbours were cute girls I wanted to impress.”

  “Ah, that makes sense then,” I said, the story only confirming everything that I believed to be true about Dylan.

  How had I managed to get myself into this ridiculous situation with him?

  Finally, Dylan pulled over the tarp that he’d found in the closet, so we wouldn’t have to be on the frigid concrete.

  “It’s freezing in here,” he said, digging out a sweater from his hockey bag. He offered it to me. “You cold?”

  With Dylan next to me, making my blood heat?

  No way.

  Besides, I tended to run hot. It takes a lot for me to get chilled.

  “No thanks,” I said. “I’m fine.

  He gave me a look of disbelief.

  “I have plenty of insulation,” I said, patting my butt. Then I sat down on the tarp.

  “I like insulation,” he said, putting on the sweater and sitting down beside me. Whatever that meant. He, of course, had no insulation at all - every inch of him was covered in hard muscles and there didn’t seem to be ounce of fat on him anywhere. Probably all that skating that hockey players do.

  We sat in silence for a while.

  “You want to sleep?” He asked into the quiet.

  “No.”

  No, I definitely didn’t want to sleep. I was so wired, I couldn’t possibly, even if I had wanted to.

  “Want to talk, then?”

  “About what?”

  What could Dylan possibly want to talk to me about?

  “Why wouldn’t you go out with me back in college?”

  I felt struck dumb.

  What kind of question was that to ask?

  I turned to look at him and he was gazing intently back at me with those eyes that I knew were blue but looked black in the shadows.

  “Why would you care?” I countered, bewildered. “It was just for a bet anyway, wasn’t it?”

  “What?” He snapped. His eyes flashed with anger.

  I pulled back.

  “Wasn’t it?” I said, suddenly feeling like an idiot.

  Memories flooded back. Dylan giving me shy glances across the table. His red cheeks when he’d asked me to go out with him. The disappointment in his eyes when I jokingly said no, thinking that he was just messing with me. I could never believe that someone that hot could want to go out with someone like me.

  “There was no bet, Maddie. I mean, Madison,” he corrected himself, emphasizing my full name bitterly. “Is that what you thought? Is that why you wouldn’t go out with me?”

  The attraction that I’d felt had been one-sided. Hadn’t it? That’s what I’d always told myself. And now what? He was saying that I was wrong? That I’d completely misjudged him?

  “Is that why you wouldn’t go out with me?” He repeated.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I thought you were messing with me. I didn’t think you were serious. Are you saying that you… actually wanted to go out with me?”

  He muttered something that sounded like cursing.

  “Yes, Madison,” he ground out. “I wanted to go out with you. A lot.”

  “Oh,” I said, not sure what to say to that. “Why?”

  His eyebrows flew up.

  “Well, if I had to explain. I’d probably say it’s because you’re the smartest, most talented, hottest woman I’ve ever met. And I was crushing on you. Hard.”

  I swallowed audibly.

  He couldn’t be serious.

  Chapter 5

  Dylan

  I was furious and at the same time I felt a tiny flare of hope in my chest.

  “You were crushing on me?” She said as if it was the most unbelievable thing in the world.

  “Yes, Madison. What do you want me to say?” I was so mad at her. “What will it take for you to believe me? It’s embarrassing enough admitting my unrequited… crush,” I said. “You really want to stomp on my heart, too?”

  “No,” she said, her eyes upset at the thought. “It’s just…”

  I held my breath.

  “Just…”

  “Just what, Madison?”

  “I had a crush on you too but I didn’t think you were serious when you asked me out.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall.

  She was quiet.

  “I’m sorry, Dylan.”

  “No need to be sorry,” I said, opening my eyes again and turning my head to look at her. “It’s all ancient history.”

  “Right,” she said, her voice disappointed.

  “Isn’t it?” I asked, studying her face.

  She shrugged.

  “Madison…”

  I considered my choices and then made a split second decision to tell her the truth.

  “I’ve spent the last three years trying to forget you,” I said, the words coming out in a rush.

  She blinked.

  “Me too,” she blurted out.

  Our eyes met and I couldn’t tear mine away, nor did I want to.

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Well,” I said, feeling shaky I was so excited. “I really want to kiss you.”

  “Please,” she breathed.

  Madison

  Well, this was unexpected. Just as I had feelings for Dylan that had never gone away but had only been shoved down deep inside. It seemed that he had feelings for me, too.

  He hadn’t forgotten me.

  He remembered everything - even the trig.

  And he’d had a crush on me.

  Still did, it seemed.

  I wouldn’t have believed it, except that he was sitting awfully close to me and the look in his eyes was genuine.

  You couldn’t lie with your eyes.

  His gaze dropped down to my lips and back up. He lifted his hand to cup my cheek and shifted to face me a little more.

  My heart was beating so fast and I couldn’t breathe - but in the good way this time. I felt as though if I even so much as took a breath, this might disappear. Like if I looked away for even a second, he might be gone.

  “Madison,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine. A warm feeling burst in my chest and I
felt giddy.

  “Call me Maddie,” I told him and he smiled.

  Then his lips were on mine and I forgot everything. I forgot the hurt, the embarrassment, the bad night I’d had, the ludicrous situation of being locked in a room with Dylan and a zamboni. I might have even forgotten my own name.

  He slid his hand back around my neck and tangled his fingers in my hair, tugging my head back to get a better angle. His lips were firm and warm and mine parted without the least bit of resistance. Damn, I needed him. Right now.

  Finally we pulled apart, both of us gasping. I was so turned on, I thought I would burst into flames.

  “Maddie,” he said, sitting back. He pulled his knees up and interlaced his fingers, leaning his arms on his knees. “I want you so much. But I have to know. Do you really want to do this?”

  He met my eyes, his face serious.

  “Make out with the guy I’ve been fantasizing about for years?” That was a no-brainer. “Yeah. I want to do this.”

  I grabbed his shirt, pulling him toward me.

  “Fantasizing?” He gave me a sexy little half smile.

  “For years, Dylan. Don’t let it go to your head, trigonometry boy,” I said, pressing a kiss to his lips. He kissed me back and then pulled away.

  “For the record, I had certain embarrassingly erotic dreams of you,” he admitted. “A lot.”

  “Were any of them in an arena?” I joked.

  “I’m a hockey player, Maddie. There were a lot in the arena.”

  I wiggled my eyebrows.

  “Any of them in the zamboni room?”

  “Now that I never imagined,” he said, pushing me down onto my back and straddling me. “But then, this is all so much better than I ever imagined.”

  “Dylan,” I said, needing him but not wanting to beg.

  “I got you, Maddie,” he said, lying down next to me. His gaze was intense when it met mine and I had never felt more seen. Then he kissed me deeply, his tongue thrusting in and out the way I wanted him to do elsewhere. He slid one leg between mine and I moaned at the feeling as I rubbed against his strong thigh.

  Oh yes. This was so much better than I had ever imagined, too.