Between two lungs, it was released.

The breath that passed from you to me

That flew between us as we slept

That slipped from your mouth and into mine.

- "Between Two Lungs" by Florence + the Machine

Zuko

"I'm sorry about my uncle, ditching us like this," I say after we've been painting in silence for the last twenty minutes.

Katara looks up at me, a little startled. I've been watching her paint out of the corner of my eye—my right eye, as I've carefully placed myself on her left-hand side—and I can tell she's engrossed in thought. Her hand moves the roller as though it's an extension of herself; methodical, practiced. My movements are jarring and uncouth in turn.

"Oh, no worries," she says after a beat. Her lips curve into a smile. "He seems very sweet."

I shrug, turning my eyes back to the patch of wall I'm painting. "Sweet" is not a word I would use to describe what my uncle just did. Conniving seems more applicable. Katara might have bought his "whoa-is-me" act, but I see right through it. He wanted to leave us alone.

I knew this would happen as soon as I accepted Katara's offer of help. Uncle hasn't said anything about her since our conversation five days ago, but I know that as soon as he saw her, he started coming up with this plan. This plan where the two of us are conveniently by ourselves and I might take advantage of the opportunity that we think she represents.

I can't really be mad at Uncle either though. Isn't this what I wanted, too? Yes, it is. So I suppose I'm not really upset with Uncle. I'm angry with myself, because I'm worried I'm going to mess this up somehow.

"And it's sweet of you to help him out, with the painting and setting everything up. And the Facebook page." Katara continues, oblivious to my internal storm. She smiles over at me, and my heart skips a beat in my chest. How does she have this effect on me? "He's lucky to have you."

"It's more like I'm lucky to have him," I mutter before I can stop myself.

Her brow creases. "How so?"

Here I go, messing things up.

I let out a sigh before I pick my words carefully. "Things are...not great. At home. Um, with my dad. So, Iroh is kind of like a dad to me."

She nods, digesting the information. "Then I think you're lucky to have each other."

I meet her gaze. It's sincere. And she's smiling again, and I can't help but smile back at her.

"I guess we are," I say.

She dips the roller into the green paint. My eyes trace the curve of her spine through her paint-splattered t-shirt. I need to find out how old she is, before I get too invested, too involved. But I can't just ask her outright. That seems weird. So I come up with another way.

"So, are you in college?" I ask, keeping my tone casual.

"No." My heart sinks and I want to bang my head against the wall in frustration. But then she speaks up again. "I'm…taking a gap year." So she's at least eighteen. That's good. I feel relieved, perhaps more relieved than I should. She glances over at me. Her eyes are guarded. "What about you?"

I tense. I should have expected that question, but somehow it still takes me by surprise. "Uh, me too."

She quirks a brow at me. "Are you having second thoughts about your major?"

My brow furrows. That seems like an odd question. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "I thought you were my brother's age. He's in his second year, at OSU. Mechanical engineering."

"Oh. I'm actually in my third year. Or I would be, if I wasn't taking some time off."

I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. This isn't a voluntary gap year. In fact, I don't know if I'll ever finish college. It's a little out of my price range right now.

"What are you studying?"

"Business."

She looks over at me, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "I guess that'll come in handy for your uncle then."

I blink. "Oh. Uh, he actually has a business degree, too. It's kind of a family tradition."

"Oh, that's neat." Katara smiles again. It's like the sun; warm and blinding. I wonder if she knows she has that kind of effect on people. "My brother is the first person in our family to go to college. I'll be the second...when I go."

She hesitates there, just for a moment. If I wasn't paying as much attention to her as I am, I probably would have missed it. I wonder if she's having second thoughts about going at all.

"What will you study? When you go?" I prompt.

Katara shrugs again. "I don't know. I used to be pretty set on med school, but I don't think I want to do that anymore."

I raise my eyebrows. "Wow. Med school. That's a pretty big aspiration." I mentally face-palm myself. You idiot, you think she doesn't know that? I reprimand myself. I bet that really makes her feel better.

"Yeah, it is. And expensive, too." She lets out a little laugh. It sounds bitter. "Maybe I'll get a nursing degree instead."

"I think you could do it. Become a doctor, I mean."

Her eyes flash to me. She blinks. And then she smiles again.

"Thanks. That's really nice of you to say." Her face falls. "But taking a gap year kind of hurts my chances of getting into med school."

There's something there beneath her words, something she's feeling but isn't saying. It sounds like she's saying goodbye. There's a sadness there, in the undercurrent of her voice, and I'm beginning to think there's more to it than the reasons she has given me. But I'm not so socially inept to know it's not polite to ask, so I don't.

"You'll figure it out," I say lamely, and wince. I guess I'm still pretty socially inept.

"I'm sure I will," she murmurs. Her eyes flicker to me again. "What about you? Do you think you'll stick with business?"

I grimace and keep my eyes trained on the patch of wall that is slowly becoming green. "Yeah, I guess so."

I haven't really thought about it. What good is a business degree going to do me now? Now that I'm here in this small coastal town with no hope of going back to the life I had before? I won't be getting a seat on the board of my family's company—my father's company. I'll just have a useless business degree. It might as well be a very expensive paper airplane.

"I think it's okay to not have it all figured out." Katara says this slowly, as though she's thinking carefully about what she's going to say. "It's like, when you're a senior in high school, everyone expects you to have your life all planned out. But then they shove you out into the world and you realize that things don't always go to plan. Things come up and they get in the way. Roadblocks and obstacles. And your plans go right out the window."

You're a window, I think. You're a window to all the closed doors in my life. And I'm looking through the glass, and I think maybe I can see something there.

She continues. "And the older you get, the more you realize that no one has everything all mapped out." My father does, I think. "Everyone is just out here, winging it."

"Maybe," I say. "I know I am."

Katara looks up at me. She smiles, and she looks a little relieved. Maybe she's a little embarrassed by her speech, but I think she's right. I had my whole life planned out, and it was taken away from me like smoke in the breeze. Now I'm starting over.

"Me too," she says.

We fall back into silence with just the radio playing. This time, it doesn't feel so awkward.

Katara

I really can't believe I said all of that out loud to Zuko.

I've been thinking about it for months, but I've never shared it with anyone else, not even Aang or Toph. And yet I opened my mouth and it just poured out of me, like water through a broken dam, fast-flowing and unstoppable. I don't know what came over me.

But Zuko seemed to understand, and that makes me feel a little bit better about it. Maybe I'm not so alone in that.

I think about what he said, about his uncle and his dad and his gap year. They're like pieces of a puzzle spread out in front of me. They go together somehow, but there's more to it than that. There's pieces missing, so I can't see the bigger picture. I find myself wanting the rest of the pieces. I want to complete this puzzle.

I peek over at him from the corner of my eye. His right side faces me, and with darting glances I take him in.

He is handsome, with high cheekbones and a sculpted jawline. His nose is angular and his brow is naturally arched, giving him a dark and mysterious appeal. His dark hair is shaggy and unkempt, curling against his neck and ears and forehead. He's tall and wiry, with an athlete's build. His t-shirt hugs his chest, and I can see the corded muscles of his neck hidden beneath the shirt. His biceps pull the sleeves taut.

I tear my eyes away from him. I can't be thinking of him like that. He can be a friend. I want him to be a friend. But we can't be anything more than that.

"Whoa, you shouldn't do that." The words burst out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Zuko freezes, his roller inches from the wall. He turns to me. "Shouldn't do what?"

Heat rises in my cheeks. I gesture to the wall. "Um, you should always paint one layer at a time. You know, to get an even coat."

Zuko looks back at the patch of wall he's painting. His brow furrows. "Oh. Right." He clears his throat. "I knew that. I guess...I just wasn't paying attention."

"Sorry," I say.

"No, you're fine." The timid smile is back. I wonder what he looks like when he smiles unguarded. I bet he's beautiful. "Thanks for pointing it out." One hand comes up to rake through his hair. That explains why it's messy, I think. "I just sort of zoned out."

"It happens." I look at the stretch of wall I've been painting. "It's relaxing, you know? It's a repetitive motion. It's easy to zone out."

Zuko looks over at me. "Have you done this a lot?"

I shrug. "Paint buildings? Sort of. Like I said, I've helped my dad before. At home, I actually paint with acrylics. Like, on canvas."

That's sort of a lie. The truth is I haven't painted on canvas since Mom died.

"Oh, that's cool." Zuko's lips turn up in a lopsided smile. "What kind of things do you paint?"

"Animals, mostly. Stuff like wolves, or turtles, or otters." I dip my roller in the pan and spread green paint over an untouched section of the wall. "I've done some landscapes, too." I offer him a smile. "This is a great area for inspiration."

He looks out the window behind him. The mountains in the distance are lit up with the setting sun. The sky is streaked pink and gold. It's beautiful.

"I can see it."

"What about you?" I ask. "Are you artistic at all?"

Zuko snorts. "No. Definitely not. Unless stick figures count."

I laugh. "I bet you draw the best stick figures."

"Thanks." Zuko chuckles. "My sister has the creative genes, I guess. She used to draw all the time when we were younger. She was really good, too."

I frown. "She doesn't draw anymore?"

He shrugs. "She sort of outgrew it, I guess."

I suppose I've sort of outgrown it, too.

Zuko

Time passes, and before I know it we've painted almost an entire wall and it's gotten dark outside. I look at the clock on the wall above the register and I realize that it's after eight p.m. and I'm starving.

"It's getting kind of late," I say, breaking the comfortable silence we've slipped into after spending upwards of an hour talking about why Stranger Things is the best Netflix Original to date. "What do you say we call it a night?"

Katara glances up at the clock. "Oh wow, I didn't even realize how long we've been painting." She steps back and surveys our work with one hand on her hip. "We've done a good job."

"If we keep this up, we'll be done in a few days. A lot sooner than I expected." I glance sideways at her, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. "I mean, if you want to come back, that is."

Katara chuckles at me. "I didn't volunteer my services for one day, Zuko. I never leave a job unfinished."

I smile, a real, genuine smile. I can't help it. Warmth spreads throughout my chest and I find myself impossibly happy that she's coming back. More happy than I probably should be. I reel it in quickly and fix a more neutral expression on my face.

"Thanks. I really appreciate it."

I look around. She has to be hungry too. I don't want to pose a question like I'm asking her on a date, because I'm not. But even though it's late and she'll be back, I'm reluctant for her to leave. I've enjoyed her company more than I've enjoyed anyone else's in...years. I don't want to let that go just yet.

I clear my throat. "Are you hungry? We could order a pizza or something before you go."

Katara snorts, and I frown. Did I say something wrong? I worry. But then she looks up at me with a smile.

"The nearest pizza place is in Nehalem, and they don't deliver after eight."

"Oh." Heat rises in my cheeks again. "Um...what is there to eat then?"

"Well, there's the pub. Nan's."

I arch my brow at her. "I didn't think you were old enough to go into a pub." I see a blush rise in her cheeks, and I curse myself internally again.

"I'm nineteen," Katara says, just a touch defensively. She waves her hand through the air. "And minors can go into the pub, just not upstairs. That's where the bar is."

"Ah." I hope I can salvage this before I offend her. "Is it far?"

She laughs again. The sound fills the room and echoes in my ears. "Zuko, in case you haven't noticed, nothing is far in this town." She holds up the roller and smiles. "We can get these rinsed off and then we can walk over there, if you want."

"Yeah, sure." We go into the kitchen and rinse our rollers. I jerk a thumb at the door. "Uh, let me just lock up and stuff., then we can go."

"Okay."

I move about the room, locking up the front door and getting the lights. Katara trails me into the kitchen as I turn off the lights in there and go through the backdoor.

"Let me just let my uncle know we're going," I say, gesturing to the stairs. "If he's not asleep by now."

"Sure."

I walk to the bottom of the stairs and hesitate with my hand on the cool metal railing. It would be rude not to invite her up, right? The loft is still a mess of unpacked boxes, but I don't feel right leaving her down here in this dark alley alone.

"You can come up too, if you want," I tell her.

Katara smiles at me. She has her hands wrapped around her arms as though she's cold, and I realize she didn't bring a jacket with her and the temperature has dropped considerably.

"Are you cold?" I ask. "You can borrow one of my jackets."

"I am, a little. But I'll be okay." She chuckles at herself. "Thank you."

"It's no problem, really," I tell her. "You can just bring it back tomorrow, or whenever you come back."

Katara hesitates as she mulls it over. Finally, she nods. "Alright, but only if you're sure."

I lead her up the stairs and into the loft. The only light on in the main room is the light above the stove. I can hear Uncle's soft snores from his bedroom.

"I guess he's already asleep," I say to her, my voice low. It's a moot gesture; Uncle could sleep through a hurricane. "Let me just grab a jacket for you and we can go."

I move toward my room. Katara stays in the living room. I find a clean hoodie—one of my favorites, actually, maroon with black trim and quite warm—and I decide to bring it back out to her. She's drifted over to the card table where Uncle is working on his latest puzzle. She's holding a piece in her hand, thumbing the edge of it with her finger.

"He won't mind if you put a piece together."

She hasn't heard me come out of my bedroom, and she jumps a bit, looking up at me like a child who just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I offer her a smile, and she relaxes.

"Are you sure?" Katara asks me, looking back down at the puzzle.

I shake my head. "I'm sure. I do that too, just kind of find where a piece goes without meaning to. He won't mind."

Katara pushes the piece into place. I offer her the hoodie. She takes it and pulls it on over her head after she thanks me. She swims in it: the sleeves come down past her hands and the hem falls to the middle of her thighs. But she looks warmer, at least, and I would be lying if I said she didn't look cute in my hoodie.

"Better?" I ask.

She smiles at me gratefully. "Much better. Thank you."

We leave the loft and I make sure to lock the door behind me.

"You know, you really don't have to worry about locking your doors," Katara remarks as we go down the stairs. "Crime is basically nonexistent here." She throws a look at me over her shoulder. The orange glow of the light outside the loft door reflects the humor in her eyes. "City boy."

"Hey now," I tease, a warning tone in my voice. "Where I come from, you can't trust an unlocked door."

That's not exactly true. I grew up in luxury apartments with a door man and a security system. Even the parking garage below the building required a code to get in.

"Yeah, yeah," Katara teases me again, bumping me with her elbow when we reach the bottom of the stairs. "Like I said. City boy."

We start walking down the narrow alley between the Jasmine Dragon and the building beside it, some shop that sells trinkets and baubles that I haven't been into yet. We step out onto the sidewalk and I take in the sleeping town.

It's strange. Seattle never sleeps, but it's clear that when the sun goes down here, the sidewalks roll up in this town and it falls into a state of hibernation. There's no one out. Most of the shop windows are dark. I can hear the waves crashing on the shore, and somewhere in the distance, I hear the roar of a car engine.

I follow Katara down the sidewalk. She walks confidently, with the hood of my sweater over her head and her hands buried in the pocket, without casting a furtive look around at all.

I know what it's like for girls in the city. They're always on high-alert, walking with one headphone out and checking each pocket of darkness for danger. But Katara walks down these streets like she owns them, like they're the hallways of her home, comforting and familiar.

She takes me to the pub, which appears to be the only thing still open. It's a two-story building made of dark wood. The window shutters are painted a dark green or maybe black; it's hard to tell in the semi-darkness. I can hear country music playing from upstairs.

When I see the sign and I know it's the right place, I pick up my pace so I can open the door for her. Katara gives me a surprised little smile, and I return it before we duck inside.

It smells like beer and grease and a little bit like sea salt inside. The ceiling is low and crossed with beams. Framed posters, pictures, and more adorn the walls. I take it in quickly as I follow Katara to a booth along one wall. It's clear that what adorns these walls is the history of this town, like a scrapbook.

Katara slides into the booth that faces the back wall, leaving me the side that looks out over the restaurant. I'm pretty sure she's done that intentionally, so I can continue to look around.

Down here, it's mostly empty. Only a few other tables are filled. But up the stairs just beyond the breakfast counter, I can hear the clink of glasses and the heavy laughter and conversation of intoxication, and I know that's where the real pub is, just like Katara had said, where the real action is.

A waitress comes over with two menus and two glasses of ice water in her hands. The left side of my face is shrouded in darkness in the low lighting, so the waitress hasn't seen my scar and she has her friendly smile on.

Katara looks up when the waitress sets down the menus and the waters.

"Well, Katara, what a sight for sore eyes!" The waitress beams a bright smile at her. "What do you think you're doing, starving your old man? Don't you know he's been in here to bother me three times this week?"

Katara laughs. "Oh no, I'm not starving him, Sela. Don't you know he just likes the beer?"

Sela flushes, but I don't understand why. She chooses right then to turn her attention to me. Her eyes comb over me quickly, but I'm assuming she still doesn't see my scar because her friendly expression doesn't falter.

"And who's this handsome fellow?" Sela asks with a white-toothed smile. She looks back at Katara, one brow arched. "You and Jet didn't break up, did you?"

I deflate. She has a boyfriend, I think dismally. I guess that window is shut too.

Katara shakes her head. "No, no. This is Zuko. He's a friend." Katara smiles at me, but it's hollow, like an abandoned rabbit hole. I wonder what that means. "He and his uncle bought Zei's secondhand store."

"Ah, I heard about that!" The waitress turns back to me. "Welcome to town, Zuko." She smiles at both of us. "I'll let you two look over the menu. I'll be back in a few."

She walks away, and I force myself to look at Katara. Her eyes are focused out over the restaurant, and even in the low lighting, I can see the blush in her cheeks. I wonder what that means.

"I didn't know you have a boyfriend." I struggle to keep my voice neutral. You have no right to be upset, I tell myself. You barely know her. And spirits, she's gorgeous. Of course she has a boyfriend.

Katara finally looks at me. The hollow smile is back. "Yeah. Jet. He's in college at U of O. We're doing the long distance thing."

"Ah." I pick up my water and take a drink.

Katara crosses her arms on the table in front of her. Her fingers are twisted into the ends of my sleeves, twitching and rubbing at the material. She's stretching them out, but I don't mind.

She looks up at me from beneath her eyelashes, her lips pursed into something that's almost like a pout, and I feel a flicker of heat plunge directly to my groin because there's something so sensual about that look on her.

"What about you?" Katara asks. "Do you have a girlfriend back in Seattle?"

I think about Mai, about the last thing she said to me as we stood outside of my uncle's house in the pouring rain. Neither of us had an umbrella, and her hair was dripping. Her makeup was running down her cheeks. I couldn't tell if it was from the rain or if there were tears, too. I've never seen Mai cry.

"If you get in that car—" Her raspy voice had been thick, and she had jabbed an accusing finger at my car. "—don't bother to call me. Lose my number. We're through, Zuko."

I find myself shaking my head. "No, no girlfriend."

Her eyes search my face. I wonder if she thinks I'm lying, because there's no way she's wondering how I don't have a girlfriend. The scar has practically ruined any chance I have with girls. Mai is an exception because she knew me before. And maybe it's a good thing that Katara has a boyfriend, because there's no way she can find me attractive with half of my face burned off.

Then she drops her gaze to the menu and changes the subject. "I guess we better find something to eat, huh?"

There's a tension in the air around us. I can feel it on my skin like electricity. When Katara looks up at me again, it sparks.

"Nan's is infamous for its Irish food," Katara tells me. "But they sell American food too. Burgers, steak, that sort of stuff."

"Good to know." I look over my menu. It's neatly divided into two sections: the Irish side and the American side. I've never had Irish food, so I look at the list of burgers, steak, and chicken options.

"My dad always gets the shepherd's pie. We're not Irish, but he swears in a past life he was an Irishman." Katara chuckles a bit. "And most of the time I believe him. He can drink like one, at any rate."

I chuckle too, and some of the tension eases.

I have no right to be upset. I barely know her. It's not her fault if I've been trying to read between the lines, or that my uncle put it into my head that I need to move on and build a life here. It's not her fault that all of my doors are closed.

I settle on a cheeseburger and fries, and since Katara closes her menu a few seconds after I shut mine, I'm assuming she's figured out her order, too. A few minutes later Sela comes back. She's carrying a shot of whiskey on a tray.

"I didn't order that," I say stupidly, since she knows I didn't.

"It's on the house," Sela replies as she sets the shot down in front of me.

"It's a house speciality," Katara explains. "Sela's sons own a brewery in Portland. Beer and whiskey."

"Oh." I pick up the shot. I gaze up at Sela. "You didn't check for my ID."

The waitress offers me a wink. "I won't tell if you won't. What's one shot?" She looks over at Katara. "Sorry, girly, but I'm under strict orders from your dad that you can't have any."

Katara rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips are pulled up into a smile. "What a buzzkill."

Sela and Katara laugh, and I feel like I'm left out of some inside joke I don't know about. But I can see the fondness in both of their eyes. I wonder what kind of person Katara's dad is. It's clear she cares deeply for him, and Sela is a fan of him too. He must not be anything like my father.

Sela looks back at me. She gestures to the shot in my hand. "Well, what are you waiting for? Take the shot!"

I hold the shot up to my mouth. I don't tell them that I don't like whiskey. I'm more of a vodka man. But I think it might be offensive if I turn it down, and in truth, I could use the shot.

I close my eyes and tip it back, letting it hit the back of my throat. It goes down smoothly. It's pleasantly warm as it slides into my belly. I can taste it on my tongue, like honey and spices, and it's actually quite nice. I set the glass down on the table and look up into Katara and Sela's expectant faces.

"What do you think?" Sela asks, her face creased into an excited grin.

Katara beams a smile at me."It's good, right?"

"It's great." I return their smiles. Then I arch my brow at Katara. "I thought your dad didn't let you drink."

"He doesn't. But that doesn't mean I always listen." She and Sela exchange a conspiratory look, and I can't help but smile.

Sela glances back at me. "Now that you tried the whiskey, what do you say about trying a beer?" She holds out her hand. "After I check your ID, of course."

I smirk crookedly as I reach for my wallet. "How can I say no to that? You should've been a saleswoman."

Sela laughs, and so does Katara. My smirk widens. I hand over my ID and Sela checks my date of birth.

"Hm, you're from Seattle, huh?" Sela hands back my card. She grins at me. "So you're a city boy, then."

I look over at Katara and find she's stifling a laugh behind her hand.

I throw my hands up in the air. "Okay, okay. I'm a city boy. Sue me, alright?"

Katara can't hide her laughter anymore. The corners of her eyes crinkle in amusement, and the low light catches her eyes. She's so beautiful, I can barely stand it.

She's got a boyfriend, I remind myself. But I'm feeling the warmth of the whiskey in my belly and I'm drunk on her smile. I wonder if her hesitancy earlier is because things aren't going so well between her and her boyfriend.

So maybe the window isn't closed all the way. Maybe if I'm patient, it'll open, and I can take my opportunity.

I've never been a patient person, but I think I can be for her.