Breathe Me - C.R. Jane Page 0,25

his best all-American boy next door smile.

And I'm the kiss ass.

Mr. Rossi takes a long hard minute to look each one of us in the eye, his expression leaving no misinterpretation that he would have our hides if something were to happen to his daughter under our watch. A trickle of sweat falls down to my temple and straight into my eye, burning my pupil. Since I don't want him to think I’m weak, I bear the pain in silence, just so I can keep my stare fixed with his.

“Dad, I think you scared them enough for one day. Can we go now?" Val singsongs, patting his shoulder lovingly, as if she’s used to her father's demeanor.

"I think you're right. The funny one is going green on me." He cackles, amused.

I look over at Quaid beside me, and his usual carefree smug expression is in fact looking a bit paler, almost as if he’s going to throw up at any minute. I store this precise moment away just so I can tease my cocky friend about it later. The only one who doesn’t look one bit affected by Mr. Rossi intimidation is Carter. No surprise there. He’s never been one to scare off easy.

After Val kisses her dad on the cheek, she jumps out of the car, and we quickly follow suit.

"Pick you up around noon," her dad says. "Be safe. Love you, kiddo."

“Love you too, Dad,” she replies with a sweet grin to her lips.

The way both express their emotions so openly has me a little puzzled. Every time my mom kisses me on the cheek or tells me she loves me and there are other people around, I cringe in embarrassment. But not Val and her dad. I don’t see an ounce of mortification in Val’s eyes. Just love.

"So where do we set up?" Val questions enthusiastically once her father drives away.

"I know a place," Carter answers coolly, and with his hands in his pockets, he starts walking in the opposite direction from the teenage crowd. I don’t ask him where he’s taking us, even though I’m curious to see what he has up his sleeve. And with Carter, he always has something. I’m just glad that wherever he’s taking us is away from the larger group of high school kids. Sure, it would be safer for us to be around more people, but like I said, my selfishness wants to be with Val on its own without anyone else gaining her focus.

After a five-minute walk, Carter finally stops, and we see that he found us a secluded part of the river where there is a large tree and a cord rope for us to use and fall down into the water below. It's not too big of a drop, but for someone like Val who isn’t an experienced swimmer, it might look daunting enough for her to reconsider coming with us again. I watch mesmerized as she mauls at her lower lip, and I conclude this must be one of her default mechanisms when she's nervous.

“We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. We can go back to where the other kids were hanging out,” I explain reluctantly. Sure, I would rather we stay here in our little private cocoon, but if she’s uncomfortable, then there really is no option but to turn back.

“No, that's okay. It was a little bit too crowded there,” she replies shyly.

“You sure your dad won’t mind?”

“No. He knows I can take care of myself. Or at least, he's trying to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“He's pretty protective of you, huh?”

“Little bit,” she mutters and starts to stretch her beach towel on the grass, still hesitant as she looks down the small cliff.

"Why?" Carter asks out of the blue, his eyes fixed on her.

"Why what?"

“Why is he so protective?” he repeats.

“Isn’t every parent protective of their kids?” She tries to play off with a laugh.

“No, not really,” Quaid retorts with a frown.

My brows furrow because this is not how our river getaway should start. We promised her fun, and so far, we aren't delivering.

“So are you going to tell us or not?” Carter asks, his voice severe and unfeeling.

Jesus, I have assholes for friends.

She sits down on the towel and hugs her knees to her chest, her attention falling down to the water.

“Are we really going to be friends?” she asks after a long pregnant pause.

“Hell yeah, we are,” Quaid utters, sitting down on the grass next