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I’m safe in Texas. Illinois is a thousand miles away.
The race in my chest is finally beginning to slow. Panic attacks are a new development in my life, and they paralyze me. A voice blurs into my mind, growing louder through the haze.
“Harley…Harley! What’s wrong? What happened to her?” Kenna’s voice is suddenly blaring in my ears.
I physically jolt as she grabs my arms.
“Are you okay? Kyle, what did you do?”
Her wide, panicked eyes are inches from mine. I feel a tear slipping down my cheek.
It’s not real.
The room expands in my vision as I realize I’m not back there. I got away, and a handsy jerk like Kyle has no control over me.
“I didn’t do anything. I have no clue what’s wrong with her,” he says, eyes narrowed at me with mock concern.
My hand materializes and slaps at the stupid grin on his face, smacking it to the ground. The sound is drowned by the music, but the red mark on his cheek is proof it happened.
His face morphs into a brute glare, eyes cold, mouth forming a hard line.
I don’t wait for his response, fleeing instead with Kenna into the crisp, chilled air. I gulp, tears still falling from my eyes.
“Harley, I’m freaking out. What happened? What did he do? I saw you all starry-eyed with Adam. Then, the next thing I know, you’re in the corner with Kyle, and he had his hand—”
I cut her off, “I know, okay! I didn’t—he just grabbed me and—I just—” My words are a jumble of choked sobs, and I hate myself for losing control.
The past few months have been an awakening. Finally breaking free from the nightmare of my life has steadily allowed the reality of my circumstances to drip in, slow and agonizing.
“Take a few breaths, Harley. Breathe in.” She pauses. “Breathe out.” She mimics the slow, deliberate pattern until I’m under control.
Exhaustion overcomes me. I look up to realize we’re standing by her cherry-red Jeep Wrangler. She opens my door, and I climb in. The window rolls down, my head resting back on the cold seat. By the time we reach the dorms, I feel raw and exposed. All I want is to hide in the comfort of my bed.
“If you need to talk about it, I’m always here. I know how a panic attack can take it out of you, and you don’t have to explain anything if you don’t feel like it…” Kenna’s voice is quietly soothing as we ride the elevator up to our room.
My insides feel hollow. A nod is all I can manage. It’ll be a miracle if I can ever comprehend these feelings. Voicing them seems like a towering, distant mountain I could never climb.
The dawn finally comes, and I’m reminded of my “date” at the plant nursery with Adam. Despite my fretful, broken sleep, the anticipation brings a lightness to my belly.
When twelve thirty rolls around, I still haven’t heard from him. Kenna asks if I want to go to lunch at the cafeteria. I’m already dressed in a yellow floral sundress with tiny white flowers on it. She insisted I wear it on our not-a-real date. It’s something I would never wear normally, but I feel like breaking free from my old shell. Adam is having a weird effect on me. Also, with all the dessert I’ve been eating, some of my shorts won’t button.
I’m debating if I should wait for him here or go with her.
“He can just pick you up from there when he calls,” she says with a smile.
I nod. Of course she’s right. I’m being ridiculous. He’s just a friend, taking me to my favorite place, where sunshine gives life to all the green things.
We stroll in the October air, the temperature still warm. Illinois is probably already cool enough for a light jacket. As we step into the air-conditioning, I go save us a seat. I’m too nervous to eat anything. Kenna brings me over a glass of water, and I mumble a thanks.
“So, what’s got you all twisted up into a ball of yarn? You should be excited! He really is the sweetest and so handsome. I don’t usually go for short hair, but with a jawline like that, it would be a sin to hide it. Also, his eyes look like a pot of warm honey. Mmm…” She does a little shoulder shimmy, and I laugh.
It didn’t take her long at all to break down my defenses. She’s the type of genuine that’s impossible to be guarded around. Her beauty is inward as much as it is outward, emerald eyes popping.
“He is. I just can’t tell if he really is a good one or just good at acting like a good one. You know?”
I’m eternally grateful that she hasn’t brought up my panic attack from last night. We somehow bonded through the experience.
She nods her head in understanding, taking a bite of her grilled sandwich. The silence encourages me to go on.
