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“I think I need to take a shower.” Not knowing what happened to throw me into a panic attack is unnerving. All I want to do is scrub my body down, making sure to leave no trace of the last two hours.
“Of course. Will you be okay, or do you want me to stay here?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Alright, holler if you need anything.” I give her a small smile and walk over to twist the hot water on. “Hey Libby?” I turn and look at her. “What… What happened today? I mean, what was that?” She motions her hand towards the bathroom floor where I had been sitting.
I knew the time was going to come when I’d have to tell my best friend about my debilitating panic attacks. Let her know that most of the time I am subconsciously keeping them at bay, or making sure I don’t do things to trigger them. And she deserves to know the truth, to have answers. She'll get them someday, but now is not the time. I’m not ready for her to look at me differently. I don’t want her to know how weak I am. Not for a little while longer, at least.
“Just stress. The last forty-eight hours have been crazy, and I think it all finally got to me.” I say the last part quickly, so I don’t keep my mind there for too long.
“Okay…” Blake holds my eyes for a beat before leaving the room.
6
After washing every inch of me multiple times, I stand under the stream for a solid ten minutes. Finally cutting the water off, I grab a towel and wrap it around me, only to realize I don’t have any clothes to change into.
“Hey B,” I yell, knowing her living room is shouting distance from where I am. But there’s no answer. I look around for my phone so I can send her a text, but don’t see it anywhere. Dammit. I crack the door slightly and holler again. “Blake, I don’t have any clothes. Will you bring me some?” I close the door again and wait. She had to hear me that time.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. I pull it open just enough to grab the clothes, but as soon as it’s open, I stop. Because it’s not Blake on the other side, and it isn’t her clothes being held out. Instead, standing a mere six inches away, is a man with whiskey brown eyes looking down at me.
Colt.
He's towering in the doorway. Easily 6’2 and taking up every inch of the frame.
My eyes roam down his body involuntarily. His sun-kissed skin looks even darker in the hallway than it did on Facetime, and all I want to do is reach out and lick it. The tattoo on his arm, that I can now tell is some type of intricate tribal masterpiece, disappears under the sleeve of his shirt, which hugs his broad shoulders, like the one he wore last night. I can see all the dips and curves of his upper body. He has a scruffy beard has been freshly trimmed, and his hair is the same deep shade as his eyes, with a messiness that doesn’t look out of place.
“I heard you needed clothes.” His deep, raspy voice pulls my attention back to his eyes. They’re looking directly into my soul, but there is something reserved in them, too. They aren't complex, but hypnotize me nonetheless. A sereneness that washes over me I can't place.
“I, uh… where’s Blake?” My voice is a whisper. I worry if I'm much louder, I'll come out of the dream I must be in. Because nothing else exists in this moment.
“Her and Tyson went to get food. I told them I’d stay here in case you needed anything.” His face is soft, with no trace of annoyance. Surely he has better things to do on a Sunday night than be at a strange girl's house because her friend had a panic attack. I couldn't imagine him being okay with this scenario.
“Why would you do that?” Hesitation coats my words. I don't trust easily, especially when things don't make sense.
He shrugs. “She looked like she could use some fresh air.” Then his eyes bore into mine, taking every ounce of my attention. “And I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“Oh…” is all I can muster. I’m just not used to having such undivided attention. The eye contact he's holding is unlike anything I've experienced, and I can't break away from it. He's holding me captive without laying a hand on me.
“I grabbed a shirt and some sweats from my bag. They’ll probably be big on you, but it’ll give you something until Blake gets back.” He extends his arm to offer me the neatly folded pile. But I don't even notice the clothes. Because the flex in his forearm caused the coils in his arm to bulge and the sight goes straight to my core. Snap out of it, Libby.
“You don’t mind?” I already feel bad that he drove here for a girl he doesn’t even know. And now he’s giving me his own clothes to wear. From a bag that he apparently packed. Or maybe he just keeps extra clothes in his truck?
“Do I mind if you wear my clothes?” He moves his head in a way to get my attention back to him. His eyes hold mine as his lips curl slightly on one side. “No, Libby, I don’t mind at all.” A rush of something runs down my body from the sound of my name coming from his mouth, but it isn’t panic this time. It’s electric.
“Okay… thank you.” I keep my eyes on him as I open the door further so I can take the clothes. Colt's jaw clenches and his eyes roll down my body when I do, and he puts his hands in his pockets. Remembering I only have a towel wrapped around me, my face burns red, but I can't move. Stuck in place by the whiskey eyes that are now set on fire. I don't know how much time passes with him drinking me in without a word, but eventually he brings his gaze to mine. With a small shake of his head, he leans forward and grabs the doorhandle, pulling it shut and leaving me alone. Standing in the middle of the bathroom floor like an idiot.
I turn to see what it is he saw, but a flash of static passes through me as I remember the last time I looked at myself in the mirror. Shaking the thought, I drop my towel and pull the gray sweats on, rolling the top over a few times to fit my waist. Then I slide the t-shirt over my head, only to be hit with a scent so heavenly. It’s manly, clean, and intoxicating. There isn’t one smell, but a full aroma. Mint, vanilla, and… tobacco? I don’t know if I’ve ever smelled anything better, but I keep the shirt held to my face for longer than necessary to soak it up.
Once I’m fully dressed, I decide against brushing my hair so that I don’t have to look in the mirror again.
I walk into the kitchen, hoping Blake is back home, but it’s empty. I peer around the corner from where the island is and see a pair of boots sitting next to the front door. Tyson doesn’t wear boots, so I know he’s not here either. Sigh. I don’t have the energy to sit with a stranger until they get back. Especially one as mouth watering as Colt. Maybe I’ll go back to the bedroom and lay down.
“You okay?” The voice behind me is so close it makes me jump, my heart immediately going into overdrive. I spin around just as his hand reaches out to grab my elbow, balancing me. A rush jolts through me where our skin touches and my eyes go straight to it. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you.” If he feels the rush too, he doesn’t show it.
“You didn’t scare me.” I back up to create some distance and he drops his grip on my elbow. My body instantly misses the heat, but the ache is equal parts in my core and in my chest.
“Good,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Can I get you anything?”
