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Allison waved her hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Look, I don’t care what you’ve got going on right now. I love you, but I don’t care. The only thing I care about is whether or not you’re happy. And you haven’t been happy for a while. So you can either talk to us, or you can keep it all inside until you explode and alienate everyone around you. Those are your two choices.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like you’re an expert.”

Michael groaned. “Come on. I’m going to go find Clint. We just need to get them out of here so they can sleep this shit off.”

I paused. “Wait, he’s not with you?”

Michael shook his head. “I told you less than a minute ago that he stormed off. You don’t remember that?”

I shook my head slowly. “No, I don’t.”

Allison sighed. “All right. Time to go back to the hotel. Michael, go find Clint. We can flag down a cab, or call an Uber, or something like that once we get out of this stupid house.”

I panicked. “Where’s Clint? I need to see Clint.”

Michael snickered. “Yeah, well. Don't kick him in the balls before storming off next time. A dude’s got feelings, too.”

My gut churned with guilt. He was right. I’d completely obliterated Clint before I stormed off. Wait a second, I was in a bathroom? How the hell did I--? People were standing too close to me. The walls were caving in again. They undulated and pulsed, like the blood rushing through my veins.

“Five minutes.”

“Rae, you okay?”

“Go get Clint. I’ve got her.”

“She’s going to puke.”

I nodded. “Yep. Yep, I am.”

The guilt turned my stomach. And the alcohol took over. I whipped around and opened the toilet back up with just enough time to erupt. I fell to my knees, shaking as tears streaked my cheeks. I felt someone gathering my hair back before blowing cool air against my sweating skin.

“Worst. Night. Ever,” Michael murmured.

Allison sighed. “Just go get Clint. Go. I’m serious. Get the hell out of here.”

Michael paused. “Did you just curse?”

I heaved. “Go, damn it!”

Feet scurried across the floor before someone groaned outside. The bathroom door closed and I heard someone flip the lock. It kept coming. And coming. And it hurt like hell. Now I realized why the bathroom smelled the way it had when I first came in. Because with every heave, my asshole opened up, letting out gas that could knock over a damn horse brigade.

“I’m sor--fuck.”

Allison sighed. “Just save it for the morning.”

“Please, I--oh.”

“Seriously. Stop talking. You’re going to aspirate if you keep it up.”

It felt like my stomach was tying itself in knots. And the entire time, tears dripped into the toilet. Every once in a while, Allison flushed. She picked up the air freshener and sprayed it right on my ass crack hanging out of my jeans. My shirt kept riding up. Why was my shirt riding up? And every time I pulled it down, my jeans fell lower.

“Oh, fuck.”

A knock came at the door and I heaved again. I heard Michael’s voice, but it sounded far away. I felt my body slipping into nothingness, into a dark expanse that I wanted to swallow me whole and never spit me back out. I’d never felt so miserable. So lost. So afraid before. Was this what a panic attack felt like?

Because I felt more panicked than I ever had in my life.

Allison’s voice sounded in my ear. “All right. How we doing down here?”

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