TOO LONG. THAT’S HOW LONG WE’D BEEN DOWN there, for way too long.
Not for me, of course, I could hold my breath for ages.
But for Tyler . . .
I struggled in his arms, against his grip that was stronger than I’d imagined it would be. But he kept me pinned where we were . . . far below the water.
Far too deep, for far too long.
Shooting a questioning, and probably panicked look at him, I begged to know, Why? Why are you doing this?
But Tyler just shook his head and pointed a single determined finger toward the surface.
Somehow I understood what he was trying to tell me—something or someone was up there. I don’t know how he knew that. I hadn’t seen anyone, but that wasn’t important.
He was convinced. And he was freaked out by it. Enough so that he had no intention of going back up there anytime soon.
So what then? Did that mean he was willing to die because of it?
He kept his lips . . . lips that had nearly been on mine just minutes earlier, pressed tightly closed as he harnessed his air reserves. But he couldn’t hold his breath forever and he’d have to let it out soon.
Then he’d have no choice but to inhale.
His body wasn’t like mine.
Mine . . .
My lungs were fine. I had more than enough breath remaining . . . more than enough time.
An idea sparked. Something I’d seen once, probably on TV, which made the whole thing seem more than a little bogus. But maybe . . . just maybe, if there was even an ounce of validity to the concept I could buy Tyler an extra minute or two.
I closed the small gap between us, not completely unaware of how undressed both of us were as our bare skin pressed together. But more than anything, I prayed he’d go along with me. Hoping, if there was anything to this, I could get it right.
Blood rushed noisily past my ears as I strained to reach his mouth, and suddenly the feel of his lips on mine was no longer just a memory. It was achingly real.
Unfortunately, there was no time to savor it.
It took Tyler a second to realize my intention, but when he did, his eyes went wide and he flinched slightly in surprise. Only, now I was the one gripping him and I wasn’t about to let him go. I ordered him with my crumpled brow to Be still!
I had to concentrate, to be careful. Mindful. There couldn’t be any space between our lips, not a single gap or opening, or else water would bleed through. The seal would literally have to be airtight, or else I would be breathing water directly into Tyler’s mouth and I would drown him. I was already worried I wouldn’t be breathing any actual oxygen into his lungs, that all that was left in me was carbon dioxide—a little tidbit I remembered from tenth grade Life Science—and this whole effort would be futile to begin with because carbon dioxide was useless to him . . . just waste matter his body couldn’t process.
But I thought when I’d seen this on TV, they’d said there was some oxygen leftover when someone exhaled, and right now some oxygen was better than no oxygen, wasn’t it?
When I was as sure as I could be that my mouth was secured over his, I slowly . . . so very, very slowly, and very, very firmly began parting my lips. With my deliberate actions, I directed Tyler to do exactly as I did, at exactly the same rate. I tried to ignore how soft his mouth was, and the way I could feel his pulse beating where my fingertips pressed against his neck.
So far, so good, I told myself, trying to remain clinical about this despite my own rising pulse.
I blinked at him, trying to instruct him about timing, and as if reading my thoughts, as if we’d done this a thousand times before, Tyler blinked back. I ignored my doubts, the part where I knew that the tiniest wince or gasp could ruin everything. I tried not to imagine the worst.
When there was enough of an opening, or what I hoped was enough, I’d intended to exhale, giving Tyler a much-needed boost to his depleted oxygen supply.
But what I hadn’t counted on was that he would have to exhale first. He’d been holding his breath for so long that he had no choice but to expel it before he could take in any more.
When he did, he filled my mouth with air. But even worse . . . far, far worse, the seal had just been broken, and it was my fault because I’d dropped my head to keep from choking. And the whole time all I could think was, This is it. I’ve killed him. He can’t make it any longer. I can’t save him again. . . .
My eyes squeezed shut as my body struggled not to inhale—to swallow huge mouthfuls of water, even though I probably deserved to die down here.
When I felt Tyler’s fingers gently grip my arms, I reluctantly opened my eyes. He was there . . . alive. And not just alive, but grinning back at me.
Grinning!