Barely Breathing by Rebecca Donovan

wouldn't be too weird, right? I can make sure he leaves before you get up."
    "It's okay," I answered slowly. Apparently she had no idea I’d already gone through this weirdness more than I cared to remember .
    The next night, Jonathan was over watching a movie with my mother when I arrived home from Sara's. I didn't stop on my way up the stairs, not wanting to interrupt them.
    "Hey, Emma," Jonathan acknowledged, despite my best effort to be invisible.
    "Uh, hi," I returned, not looking back.
    I stayed in my room for the night, reading. Without consciously meaning to, I'd find myself listening for the front door, indicating Jonathan had left. But I never heard it before I dozed off.
     
    “Is she okay?”
    I froze at the sound of Jonathan's voice. Clamping my hand over my heaving breaths as I sat upright in my bed. I remained still. He sounded close, like he was right outside my door. My eyes flickered in the dark, waiting to see if he’d actually come in.
    “She does that,” my mother explained apologetically. “Just come back to bed, okay? She'll be all right.” There were a few seconds of silence, and then his footsteps trailed off toward her room. I heard the distinct click of her door, and collapsed in my bed, feeling terrible that I'd woken them up. Which transitioned into an alarmed recognition that he had stayed the night.
     
    I stared at the ceiling waiting for the sun to make its appearance, listening to the wind screech against my windows and finally succumbing to the realization that sleep had evaded me once again. I pulled the covers up to my chin, wishing I were in California, not stuck in this never ending winter and this ice box called a house.
    I finally threw the covers off, resigned to start the day, despite the lack of sun. I slid on a pair of socks and rifled through my drawers, pulling out clothes for the day before dragging my feet toward the bathroom. I paused outside my door when I noticed the kitchen light was on, creating a soft glow in the dark foyer. The coffee maker gurgled, and the robust aroma drifted up the stairs.
    Jonathan emerged from the kitchen with his hair wet and brushed back, creating smooth dark waves. He was dressed in a shirt and tie. His professional attire made him appear older. This mature look made me grin. He looked so... grown up in a GQ sort of way. Jonathan stopped abruptly when he spotted me, startled.
    “Sorry,” I said. My cheeks flushed with color at being caught watching him.
    He held his finger to his mouth and pointed to my mother’s door. “She’s still sleeping.” I nodded in understanding. “Did I wake you?”
    “No,” I whispered in return.
    He continued to the closet to remove his jacket and set the strap of his computer bag over his shoulder. He raised his hand in a wave before slipping out the front door. I watched him leave without a word, finding my hand still frozen in the air long after the front door had closed and his truck could be heard starting up. Why am I still standing here? I thought as I shook out of my daze and continued to the bathroom to shower and prepare for the day.
     
    “Rachel’s here,” Sara informed me as I was getting ready to run out on the court for our night game. “Oh, and we’re going to a party tonight after the game.”
    I watched her walk into the gym, waving to somebody with an exaggerated smile, mouthing, “Hi.” I stared after her in shock. What kind of bomb was that to drop right before a game with our school’s rival?!
    I could hear my mother screaming my name as I dribbled the ball down the court. I blocked her and the rest of the chanting crowd out as I called the plays to put my teammates in motion. I let the movement on the court keep me focused.
    I passed the ball to Jill outside the key along the baseline. She dribbled in toward the net and popped it back to me. Another teammate set up a pick to allow me to dribble down the paint and lay it in. The bleachers erupted, but all I could hear was a