Breathe You - C.R. Jane Page 0,28

just then, holding the locks with a big goofy grin on his face. “Are we decorating these babies with symbols of our love?”

Carter comes in too and pantomimes throwing up, and I laugh. They all look relieved to hear the sound come out of me.

I’m suddenly aware that we are all together in a small space. Butterflies flit through my stomach as their various intoxicating smells float over me. Surely if I’m turned on, that means that I won’t be dying today, right?

“Ready to go?” I ask, and my voice comes out far breathier than intended. Carter’s eyes darken when he hears it. Logan and Quaid’s breaths heighten, and I can tell that both of them are thinking about when they can get me naked again.

Oy, we need to get out of here or else I have a feeling the bridge won’t be happening, and unfortunately, the bridge activity sounds a lot more feasible for the way I’m feeling than a romp in the sheets.

I push past the guys and walk into the living room, where I rifle through the purchases Quaid and Carter have made. To my delight, they were able to find a pack of markers to decorate the locks with. There are three locks that we will be putting on the bridge. Because although we’re all wrapped in this tragic love story, our relationships are still separate and distinct. And I want to honor that.

After decorating the locks with the guys’ joking input, we set out through the bustling streets to find the bridge. I listen tiredly as they laugh and joke with each other, and I wonder if the true miracle and happy ending for all of this will be the fact that they’re rebuilding their relationship with each other. It’s a relationship that started before I came into the picture, and I’m hoping that it will last long after I’m gone.

We get to the bridge finally. I’m going to have to ask that we get a cab on the way back, even though I love walking through the streets of this ancient city. The last thing I want to do right now is faint though.

The bridge is laden with locks. I read that the city has taken to periodically cutting off some of the locks to make room for more, but I pretend that’s not going to happen. I would like to think that this little symbol, as corny as it is, could stand the test of time.

There’s a cluster of enamored couples doing the same thing, and I smile at the sight of a teenage girl and her equally young boyfriend ecstatically placing their locks on the bridge. I know some people would look at them and think that they have so much to learn, but I’d like to believe that there are others who find their soulmates when they’re young as well.

The guys have quieted next to me, and I look over. They each have a lock in their hand, and they’re staring at it. I guess they finally saw the words I put on them when they weren’t looking. On Carter’s, I wrote ‘soul.’ On Logan’s, I wrote ‘heart.’ And on Quaid’s, I wrote ‘life.’ We had talked about it a long time ago when we were children, and I was trying to put into words what they meant to me. Judging by the looks on their faces, they remember that conversation.

I wonder if all the words we ever said to each other are engraved on their hearts the way they are on mine?

Carter clears his throat and hands me the lock he’s been holding and pulls out his phone. “I’m going to take pictures while we do this,” he explains, and I smile fondly at him. He’s been taking more pictures the last few days since the whole blowup, and I’m glad they will all have something tangible to look back on when this is all over.

I click Carter’s and my lock into place, while Quaid and Logan do the other two. The click of the lock engaging stays with me for a long moment. They are all looking at me now, and I’m afraid of what they can see.

I feel like I’m made of nothing but broken heartbeats sometimes, and I wonder if they can see that. If they can understand that.

I’d like to think they can.

Just like I’d like to think that these locks will stay on this bridge forever.

Just like I’d like to think that our love can