Love, Emma

Chapter Thirty-Eight:

The second I'm in the hall my feet are running, even though I have no idea where I'm going. As I near his locker, I pull out my phone, dialing his number as I climb the stairs.

He answers on the first ring, his breathing so ragged he has to clear his throat before he can speak properly.

"I-I'm s-so-so s-so-sorry, I-I-"

"Nathan, where are you?" I feel bad for cutting him off, but I can tell something's wrong, can tell he's not okay. We can talk about the lunch later- at this point it's the last thing on my mind- after I know where he is, after I know if he's alright.

"I-i-i-in th-th-the gy-gy-gym." Turning on my heel, I go back the way I came, taking the stairs two at a time until I'm on the ground level, nearly sprinting to the gym.

I keep him on the line until I reach the doors, listening to the sound of his soft breathing, to the hum of the heater, trying to soothe myself with the melodic background noise.

"I'm here," I hang up as I enter the gym, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness of the empty room before I let the door fall shut behind me.

I spot him quickly, laying on his back in the top row of the open bleachers, his legs bent at the knee so his feet can rest flat against the plastic surface. 

"Nathan, are you okay?" Taking the steps two at a time, I take note of his position, instantly concerned; his arm is bent at the elbow over his eyes, his cellphone held loosely in his hand, as if trying to hide from the world, trying to block it out.

Moving his arm, he wipes his face with his hands, eyes trained on the ceiling rafters over him as he pockets his cellphone.

I crouch down beside him when I reach the bench, taking in his tear stained cheeks and red eyes, even though he's trying to hide it.

Unconsciously, my hand goes to his hair, pushing the strands back off his forehead soothingly, letting the tufts of brown slide through my fingers. With my free hand I grip his own, trying to give him some reassurance.

I sit in silence with him, letting him gather his words before he starts speaking, squeezing my hand painfully in his.

"I-I c-co-couldn't do i-i-it." He shakes his head softly, turning to look at me with glassy eyes. "I-I w-wa-was go-go-going, I w-was ab-about t-to wa-walk in to th-the café-cafeteria, a-an-and th-then I-I c-coul-couldn't br-bre-breathe, a-and th-their w-w-wa-wasn't en-enough air, an-and-"

"Shhhhh, Nathan just breathe, deep breaths." I soothe him softly, wiping the stray tears that dribble down his jaw.

"I'm s-s-so-sorry."

"It's okay, Nathan, don't even worry about that. Are you alright?"

He nods, sitting himself up and then spinning to face me, his back against the wall, pulling me up gently from my crouch  to stand between his legs.

Slowly, he winds his arms around my waist, pressing his face into my stomach, breathing deeply. When I pull myself against him- threading my fingers into his hair, bending down to kiss the top of his head- he falls apart, his shoulders sagging, the muscles in his back unwinding as he cries, his tears soaking into my shirt and sticking to my skin.

I do what I can; I rub soft circles on his back, wipe away his tears, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear, wishing and praying there was something else I could do, anything more effective, anything to really help him.

He comes around on his own, after a few minutes, slowly standing up, wiping his eyes with his sweater sleeve, trying to rub away any memory of this.

It hurts to see he won't look me in the eye, that he's avoiding my gaze, embarrassed.

"Hey," I reach up on my tip-toes, gripping his chin softly in my hand, angling him to face me, trying to convey my emotions in one look; that it doesn't bother me, that I'm not upset with him or disappointed.

"It's going to be okay." I run my thumb over the barely-there stubble on his jaw, watching him nod, softly, as if giving in to the belief in my words.

He has to bend down awkwardly so our lips can meet, nearly hunched over entirely in the tight space the bleacher row offers. I gasp into his mouth when he lifts me up, standing me up on the  seat in the next row, so our heights (somewhat) level out.

He's close enough that I can run my fingers through his hair now, even if his neck is still craned down. His arms can rest comfortably in the slope of my waist, palms flat against my back, urging me forward.

It's nothing like the kiss we shared outside the hall on the wedding last weekend; this is slow, sweet, a conversion of words into actions, expressing a multitude of emotions too broad to explain with the English language, possibly any language.

The light is so bright I can see it through the backs of my eyelids; the sudden disturbance draws us abruptly apart, still lost in the haze of the kiss, we don't notice Coach Ross until he yells at us, his sudden shout scaring me so bad, I nearly fall backwards down the bleachers. I would have if Nathan's arms weren't still around me, holding me to him.

"Hey, lovebirds I got a class coming in five minutes, think you could save this for another time?" Even though he's trying to look stern, I can see the amusement in his eyes as we make our way down the bleachers towards him, our faces equally red as we meet his eyes.

I feel like I should be doing push ups or something as punishment- he is a gym teacher after all- but no penalty is given for our rather obvious PDA, or for sneaking into the gym unsupervised. If anything, he looks like he's trying not to laugh at us.

Once we've crossed the threshold into the hallway, Coach seems to remember he's also a health teacher, calling after us a half-hearted, "use protection kids!"

As the door falls shut, we hear his laughter crystal clear, even as we turn the corner into the next hall.

I glance at Nathan's flushed face, watching his eyes dart in between me and his feet, suddenly feeling rather amused by our entire situation.

I can't stop my laughter, and soon enough I'm laughing so hard I have to stop and lean against the wall. Nathan takes one look at me and starts laughing too, his whole face lighting up with his sudden mood change.

The bell rings and people start walking by, sending us curious looks as we finally manage to quiet down, sending each other grins and soft smirks as we head to his locker. He playfully hip bumps me, nudging me sideways so I nearly run into this poor girl, only saved by his hand in mine, already pulling me back to the safety of his side.

I hip bump him back even though it has nowhere near the same effect, and let him lead the way through the crowds until we reach his locker. Leaning against the wall beside it, I watch him gather his books from his bag, and take a swig of water before smiling at me, ready to head out for his next class.

"I-I'll m-meet y-you a-at y-your l-locker t-to h-head to th-the c-café?" I nod, too busy admiring the way his sweater hugs his shoulders to really pay attention to his words.

Poking my nose, obviously having caught on to my lack of attention, he smiles again, backing up to head to his next class.

"A-after sc-school, y-your lo-locker, y-yes?" I nod, embarrassed at being caught gawking so openly, and watch him fade into the throngs of other students. 

Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket (and assuming it's Luke or Parker asking where I disappeared to) I don't notice his returning figure until he's right in front of me, lips already pecking my cheek. He's backing away by the time I register what's happening, but his words hang in the air, dancing in my head like clouds.

"Th-thank y-you. F-for e-earlier."