Contents ( 42)
- The Art of Breathing
- Part One: How We Became Who We Are
- Prologue: Or, Where the Kid Hears the Word of the Day
- 1. Where Tyson Learns to Breathe
- 2. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 3. Where Tyson Graduates and Bear Freaks Out
- 4. Where Tyson Says Good-Bye
- 5. Where Tyson Gets the Mail
- Part Two: Coming Home
- 6. Where Tyson Comes Home
- 7. Where Tyson Gives a History Lesson
- 8. Where Tyson Attends the Most Awkward Party Ever
- 9. Where Tyson Plans Attends a Protest
- 10. Where Tyson Gets Arrested
- 11. Where Tyson Gets His Ass Handed to Him
- 12. Where Tyson Writes Bad Poetry and Gawks at Frat Boys
- 13. Where Tyson Decides to Man the Fuck Up
- 14. Where Tyson Asks Some Questions
- 15. Where Tyson Remembers Theresa Jean Paquinn
- 16. Where Tyson Learns the Benefit of Therapy
- 17. Where Tyson Meets the Man Who Becomes Helena Handbasket
- 18. Where Tyson Gets Screwed at His Own Birthday Party (And Not in a Good Way)
- Part Three: Just Breathe
- 19. Where Tyson Goes to Helena Handbasket’s Sex Dungeon
- 20. Where Tyson Beholds the Awesome Wonder That Is Paul Auster
- 21. Where Tyson Receives Advice from the Six Sages
- 22. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 23. Where Tyson Hears the Inevitable
- 24. Where Tyson Meets His Match
- 25. Where Tyson Says Hello, Where Tyson Says Good-bye
- 26. Where Tyson Touches upon the Inevitable
- 27. Where Tyson Faces the Music
- 28. Where Tyson Breathes
- 29. Tyson And Dominic
- 30. The Art Of Breathing
- Epilogue: Or, Bear’s Perspective, As It Were (Yeah, He’s Gonna Freak)
- Author’s Note
- Excerpt
- Prologue: Or, Where Bear Answers the Door
- More from TJ Klune
- Readers love the Bear, Otter, and the Kid Chronicles by TJ Klune
- By TJ Klune
“Why would I be the one to go to jail?” she asks.
“You look the type.”
“Wow. As nice as that sounds, I’d rather talk about Dominic.”
Shit. “Isn’t it a nice day out?”
“Quite. So, in thinking back about our past conversations regarding our arresting officer, who you pined for like a lovesick twelve-year-old girl, I do believe you neglected to mention that he was built like a fucking brick shithouse and is literally the hottest thing to ever walk the face of the earth.”
I groan. Loudly. “Can we not do this now? He might hear you!”
She glances over her shoulder to BJ’s. “Not quite. He’s still inside talking to the manager.”
“Well, then, I can hear you, and I don’t want to do this now. Or ever.” I’m pretty sure I can figure out Canadian money. I am technically considered a genius, after all. Well, except for the getting-arrested part.
“Has he always been that big?”
“Oh, look. That cloud looks like a mongoose.”
“No, it doesn’t. Focus, Tyson.”
“Fine. Yes. He’s always been big. He’s always been hot. He’s always been fucking Dominic, and I don’t know how this day can possibly get any worse.”
Except, that’s not quite true, is it? Yes, he’s always been big, but he was awkward. Kind and sweet, but awkward. His hands and feet always seemed bigger than the rest of him. And yes, he was always attractive, but in a boyish way. The gentle giant with the broken voice. That has all been replaced by a grown man who’s impossibly large and surrounded by a palpable air of authority.
And, wonder of all wonders, my dick is starting to get hard. That… is unfortunate. And ridiculous. And fucked up. Goddamn hormones! Go the fuck away!
I wonder, it muses, how those arms would feel? The scrape of that scruff on his face against your neck? The weight of him hovering above you? Obviously, he’d have to leave on most of the uniform. And the handcuffs could still be involved.
“This can’t possibly end well,” I mutter.
“What’s that?” Kori asks.
I don’t think Kori needs to know that I’m sitting outside a restaurant contributing to the downfall of American health standards in the sun with my hands cuffed behind my back, getting an erection while having unbidden dirty thoughts about my former best friend who I, for all intents and purposes, cut off from my life because I thought I was the only one for him and found out otherwise.
If I were a country singer, that’d be my first song: “I Don’t Eat Meat Unless It Belongs to the Man of My Dreams.”
I am so pathetic.
“Today,” I say instead. “Bear is going to murder me.”
“If Otter doesn’t do it first.”
“Or Creed.”
“Or Anna.”
“Or their parents.”
“Probably even JJ.”
I sigh. “Fun.”
“Look sharp,” Kori says. “Here comes Captain Steroids.”
And so he does. I try to look away, I try to close my eyes against the sight, but I can’t. It’s been four years since I’ve seen him, and it’s like there’s been a drought all that time and it’s finally raining. I can’t look away even if I try.