The Pros and Cons of Breathing

I couldn't even look Landon in the eye as I blatantly lied to his face. The only thing I could focus on was trying not to cry. A trick I learned when my dad died was to stare at light and let the burning feeling dry out my eyes. I quickly shifted my gaze from the blurry penguin print of Landon's boxers to the soft light of the hood above the stove. I focused on setting my lips firmly together and blinking normally to avoid looking like I was going to cry. My knees buckled.

Landon had his arms wrapped around me before I realized it. His skin was blazing considering everything else was warmed by the Kentucky summer heat, but it was soft, with strong muscles contracting and relaxing underneath. I hugged him back, thankful that I didn't have to pretend I wasn't hurt. I was even more thankful that he didn't expect me to be okay nor did he make it seem like a bad thing that I wasn't. It was like this:

I've been hurt and humiliated and he could see that, but he accepted it without passing any judgment on my weakness. He just held me until I could hold myself up again.