Gasping For You

Meet Cute

I awoke only to see hazel eyes staring back at me briefly. I was in motion yet my legs and arms weren't moving. My body felt heavy and sweaty pressed into this stranger's arms. I felt calm.

I turned my head and Maverick came into my vision, "Are you okay?! I'm so sorry I wasn't paying close enough attention. I was trying to get us through the crowd and... and.."

"It's okay Mav, calm down. I'm fine." I try to reassure him. My mind takes a second to process, "I would like to know who is carrying me though." 

"I'm Denver, one of your brother's old-time hockey friends. I saw you about to collapse and had to step in. Your brother said he could take over but I figured I'd take you back to the house myself since I was already holding you." He glanced down at me, quickly. He was hesitant with every step he took. 

Maverick instantly starts explaining, "Remember Denver? I played with him in my junior league in 7th grade. He came to that sleepover once where one of our friends peed the bed and almost shit his pants when Denver played a prank on him." Mav said walking alongside us. Our house coming closer into view. There were fewer people scattered along the sidewalk.

"A prank that will never be mentioned again," Denver grunted, readjusting me, and giving my brother what I can only assume was his death stare. His hands were placed respectfully, only holding my legs and my back. I could feel his bare stomach, taut and hard on my side. 

My mind tried to push through the memories, "Wait, the prank where he put a firecracker on his stomach and it exploded all over his..." I stared wide-eyed, looking between Denver and my brother.

"Yep, that one. Poor guy got penis burns. I don't think he is still fully recovered." Mav laughed.

"Jesus Christ. It wasn't supposed to move that way. I apologized for years and he says he's fine." I could only see his strong jaw, clenched; looking ahead. 

"I don't think anyone can fully recover from that. I'd never sleep out again." Mav cackled, walking up to our newly painted grey steps. The shutters were still ratted from the wear and tear of the ocean air. My mom was slowly working on the house, it was her constant distraction.

"I'll never live it down, will I?" Denver spoke to himself.

"No, you won't especially with us knowing all about it" I spoke, nodding over at Mav. Denver simply rolled his eyes as we walked up the steps. Mav held the front door open. Our footsteps were the only noise to fill the house. 

"You can put me down now, I can walk. I feel a lot better than I did. The dizziness is gone." I try to wiggle out of his arms.

"Can you wait till I actually get through your front door? Don't want to have to catch you again," the same smirk from earlier poked through. 

"You know I bet you'd love to have the privilege of catching me again. That happens once in a blue moon because I know my body better than anyone. Just a small fluke. I am an independent woman," I spoke fiercely, my head high.

He places me down lightly on our very worn blue couch. Mav has already gone into the kitchen. I know he is most likely getting my pass-out essentials -- Gatorade, a snack, and IV fluids to hook up to my line.

"I understand you are an "independent woman" but that doesn't mean it isn't okay to accept help, especially in situations like yours." His arms were crossed and he looked at me sternly. Given my brief encounter with him, the audacity for this type of sass had me buzzing. 

My eyes took him in, he wore bright red and yellow board shorts and was barefoot. His chestnut hair with minimal interwoven blonde streaks placed perfectly on his head. His face showed a prominent nose and light hair covering his chin and upper lip. The arch of his eyebrow and cheekbones flowed perfectly. A small brown birthmark adorned his right cheek,  near his one-sided dimple. 

My eyes scanned down his body, his arms defined and strong. His chest, large and well-defined followed by an impressive 8-pack.  My gaze continued to wander down until I heard a cough.

My eyes looked up quickly. I could feel my face turning red immediately. "How do you know anything about my situation?" I asked trying to distract him from clearly seeing me checking him out.

Thankfully, he went along with it, "I see your brothers' posts about you on his stories. He links your blog posts and I've checked it out before."

"Oh sorry, I forgot I share my life so publicly," I say, shyly looking down at my hands. My blog was everything to me. It allowed me to share my honest truths about living with cystic fibrosis and connect to other people who are possibly going through the same feats. 

"Nothing to apologize about. I have a lot of respect for you." He said pulling his arm behind his head to scratch an itch that felt all too purposeful. His arm muscles straining so deliciously. 

I was about to speak when he cuts in, "I also get the independence thing, my brother was the same way. He was too damn stubborn for his own good. Couldn't tell him to take his meds, it had to be on his own terms." He takes a deep breath, "He had cancer." The hesitation was clear at his last spoken words. 

He sits down on the sofa across from me. Brushing his hands over his face to mask any emotion I could get a glimpse at. Silence followed.