Don't Forget to Breathe Read Online Free PDF Page A

room.”
    A single lip smacking peck and Nona said, “Of course it’s alright, Reg. I don’t mind do you, Leo?”
    “Huh?”
    “Becket’s car is at the mechanics on Rigley Street. Reggie’s going to give him a ride over there before taking you home. Is that alright?”
    “Sure, yes, fine.” I sounded pathetic.
    We climbed into the back seat of Reggie’s compact car. With long-legged Becket sitting beside me, there was minor personal space. He had to part his legs around the front seat to fit and his left knee rode high over the middle hump. When his leg swerved and touched mine, I wrestled with wanting to touch him. Over the years, I’d conjured all kinds of daydreams with the boy, and now, I tried making myself as little as possible. I could talk to Henry, no prob, but Becket, no way.
    Reggie and Nona chatted up a storm while Becket and I remained mum. I averted my eyes toward the window, playing it cool, but Becket’s scent festooned around me like an enchanting lariat. He smelled like soap and I whiffed in appreciation.
    I caught Nona’s turn of head, throwing me an awry brow. Her eyeballs giving me juvenile twitches to speak to the boy.
    Smith’s Garage came into view, delayed in traffic, Reggie then implemented a right hand turn through the intersection. “Leo,” Becket’s voice was assertive, eliciting my neck to kink in his direction. “Reggie said you live on Westgate, that’s in my direction. I’ll drive you home.”
    Even if I had a rebuttal, he elbowed the door and stepped out before I had a chance to answer. I’d heard he was a domineering quarterback and the team obeyed his every command.
    My head whipped to Nona. I must’ve looked like a deer in headlights, cause she encouraged, “Go, girl. Call me later.” Her eyebrows jumped to her forehead tendering a go-get- ‘em smile.
    Outside the mechanic’s garage, I waved to a departing Reggie and Nona and tried steeling myself against a happy dance performance. The pitter-patter of my heart kept beat to a conga-line.
    With keys juggling in his hand, Becket ambled from the garage to his car. In a gentlemen fashion he held the passenger door open and looked for me. Still standing by the garage entrance, I felt like a ditz, and scraped some dignity to walk with him watching.
    Once stationed behind the steering wheel, he turned to me with impassive eyes. “I’m an excellent driver. But you might want to put on your seatbelt.”
    I was also a doofus, and buckled up.
    “You live at eighty-six Westgate, right?”
    I nodded and wondered if Reggie told him my address.
    “You’re quiet, for a girl.” His message was clear; girls talk too much. I fiddled with the hem of my sleeve as my tongue glued itself to the roof of my mouth.
    “Well if you’re not going to speak, mind if I put on some tunes?”
    I initiated a simple shrug. He then provided me with a smile, enhancing his features to the tenth degree. I read a book recently where the protagonist swooned in her lover’s arms, and I’d snickered, yet, I think I just swooned.
    I hadn’t expected his choice of music as he leveled the radio’s volume. I had him pegged as a head-banger, wild boy, but a baroque style of strings floated through the speakers.
    My body relaxed, drawing in a peaceful breath.
    “There, that’s better.” He watched me. “You’re a pretty uptight girl.”
    “You don’t know me.”
    “Ah-h, she speaks,” he said, awarding me another mind-blowing smile. “The next street is Westgate, right?”
    Disheartened with the short drive, I nodded.
    “Did I say something wrong?”
    Baffled, I glanced at him. “No, why?”
    “You were just opening up, getting all talkative. I could hardly get a word in edgewise.”
    I offered a tight-lipped smile.
    We coasted along Westgate and I indicated where I lived. “That’s my house on the right. The one with the green trim.” Pulling into the driveway, he let the car idle. “Thanks for the ride.” I snapped the door