A familiar ache blooms behind my ribs.
Doubt? Or perhaps something worse.
Panic.
Because maybe this is all too good to be true.
The job in New York.
Knox.
Me…finally being happy.
And that might be the scariest part.
Happycan’t possibly stick around for long.
I mean, what if it all goes sideways?
What if I get to New York and hate the job or worse…fail at it?
What if, while here, I fall hard for someone who’s just…temporary?
What if this summer is just a blip for him, and I’m already too far gone?
I rub my temple like that’ll smooth this panic away, but too late: the spiral party has already begun.
I should text Paxton.
Or journal.
Or google “how tonotself-sabotage something that feels kind of fucking perfect.”
Instead, I just stand here, phone still pressed to my chest, heaving like I’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
The bubble phone buzzes to life, vibrating against my sternum so abruptly, I nearly drop it.
I fumble, catch it, glance at the screen, and press the green button. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Knox says, and I can hear the smile in his voice, the one that curls into an irresistible smirk.
Something in me eases. The panic doesn’t vanish, but it slows, his simple “Hey” pulling me out of the tailspin.
“Hi,” I manage, grateful he can’t see how hot my cheeks have flamed.
“Have you had breakfast?”
“Uh, no,” I say, raking my fingers through my hair. “You caught me just waking up, actually.”
And in mid-spiral, breath-catching, borderline-panic territory, but I’ll be okay.
“Does that mean you’re still in my shirt?”
I pad over to the coffeepot, pop in a cartridge, and wait for the familiar hiss. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I am. You want it back?”
His tone drops a note lower. “Only if I get to take it off you.”
