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Sam said something math-related with a charming smile, but I was already on autopilot. I smiled and nodded, but my mind was already trapped in the spiral, heading toward the drain. It was like Disgrace had control of my thoughts—she stood a thousand feet tall, stirring the concoction of fear with an evil grin.
“Grace? Grace, are you all right?” Sam said as he touched my elbow.
Oh God, I was breathing loudly.
I clutched the railing.
People were starting to stare.
“Grace, are you okay?”
I nodded, trying to regain control. Maybe if I could convince him that I was okay, that would make it true.
“Breathe,” Sam offered gently, keeping his hand on my elbow.
I laid my hand on top of his, letting him know I wanted it there.
Even though my words were gone, I looked up and saiddon’t let gowith my eyes.
I’d totally blown it. I’d finally met someone I was interested in, and of course something so stupidlike seeing a gray hair—no, justthinkingI saw a gray hair, was sending me into an anxiety attack.
My black thoughts swirled, blending into a homogenous, endless question mark spiraling withwhat-ifsandwhat-thens.As the vortex pulled me down, I could still step outside of it and hate the version of myself at the center.
A weakling that lost control at the slightest stimuli; an incompetent fool who couldn’t get a handle on her life. There was no reason to freak out about seeing a gray hair—I’d just pluck it. But that didn’t change the intense surge of adrenaline my body flooded through my veins, telling me to run from a monster.
I looked at Sam without really seeing him. Washea monster?
My body told me everything about him was something wicked and dangerous.
But I could feel his gentle hand on my elbow.
An anchor.
After what felt like an eternity, my breathing slowed. The white speckles in my vision fizzed away.
As my heart slowed, everything faded back to normal.
I’d… I’d beaten it.
Again.
Maybe I was getting better.
“You get panic attacks,” Sam uttered.
It wasn’t a question.
I looked down in shame, feeling the hot spotlight shining on one of my biggest flaws.
“I do. I’m sorry.”
His eyes showed genuine concern. “Why are you sorry?”
For not being good enough for you.But I let out a small breath through my nose and said, “For causing a scene. For freaking out over nothing—”
“What was your trigger?”
“Huh?” I asked, blinking at him with confusion.
