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“Come on,” he repeated. I could tell he was yelling the words now, but his voice still sounded like it was packed in cotton. I nodded agreement, but it was a hollow gesture. I couldn’t tell whether it was the people or the panic attack that was slowly locking up my body, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate.
Julian’s hand pushed through two of the bodies boxing me in and got hold of my arm. At first, it felt like he was pulling me into a concrete wall. There was no give, just crushing pressure. Then, with an angry grumble, the wall shifted, and I was next to him. There was still no space, no air, but at least I wasn’t trapped in this human coffin with strangers anymore.
Julian scanned my face. Before I could stop him, he slid my sunglasses down my nose, and his blue eyes searched mine. I still couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in my head, but I could read his lips. “Panic attack?” he was asking.
I nodded, and horribly, I felt a sting behind my eyes. Finally, a sound broke through the buzzing. It wasn’t Julian’s voice though, it was my own. My tough talking internal monologue that had bullied me through worse situations than this.
Oh no, you don’t. You are not going to fucking cry. Not here. Not now.The voice blazed through my brain, numbing the worst of the fear. It was still there, but it was like a layer of ice had been blasted over it. When that ice melted, I’d have to deal with it, but I could function for now.
“Can we get out?” I asked Julian, my own voice sounding far away.
With the advantage of his considerable height, he broke eye contact and scanned over the top of the crowd. “Yeah, but it’s not going to be easy.” He had been holding my forearm with the hand that wasn’t still clutching the Sony FS7, but now he let me go and turned away.
Immediately, the fear swarmed back up. I was alone in this crushing mob. No boyfriend to put me on his shoulders. No friends to reach down and pull me up if I fell. But then Julian turned back to face me. He grabbed my hand. “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
I huffed out a hysterical laugh. “Whateveryoudo, don’t let go.”
Julian’s eyes flashed as he stared down at me, and the strangest sensation spread through me.Comfort.I was still caught in the net of other people’s limbs and torsos, but the fear faded. It was still there, but an implausible sensation of safety softened the edges. I wasn’t alone in the crowd anymore. If I fell, Julian would pull me up. It brought the sting back to my eyes, but I didn’t have to hide it. Julian was already turning away and beginning to push diagonally through the crowd. He pulled me along behind him, his grip bruisingly tight around mine.
He was like a plow, breaking up the worst of the crowd so that I could easily slip through behind him before it reassembled behind us. In my periphery, could see other people trying to do the same with less success. Even if they were as tall as Julian, they weren’t as broad. And even if they were, they didn’t have the Sony FS7 in their right hand, raised up like he was still filming. Strangely, people shrank back from it as much as they could. Even the wild eyed, laughing ones didn’t want to get caught on camera, creating a crowd surge.
In what felt like no time, we were out of the worst of it. Julian didn’t have to barge through people anymore, they had room to shift aside. Then we were beyond the last solid band of people, out with the few who’d had the presence of mind and the ability to hang back.
“Over there,” I managed to say, pointing at the pavilion. We were out, but for some reason, my heart was still racing. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out on my forehead, and even though no one was pressing against me, I was having a hard time getting a deep breath. I knew that the breeze whipping off the ocean, blowing my hair around my face, should smell fresh and crisp, but I couldn’t seem to get it down into my lungs.
Julian headed that way, still half-pulling me even though we were free. I was still moving like I was going against the current of the crowd, my legs heavy and clumsy. Time moved strangely. It had felt like mere minutes to work our way out of the crowd, but this unobstructed walk felt like hours.
“Sit,” Julian said suddenly, and I was surprised to find that we’d finally reached the benches. I sank down, dimly aware that he was moving away. He came back a minute later with a bag of mini muffins from the snack machine.
“I’m not hungry,” I said weakly.
“You need the carbs. Complex carbs would be better, but this is the best I can do right now.” He opened the bag and pushed it into my hands. When I just stared down at it, he said roughly, “Don’t make me feed you.”
Finally, self-preservation kicked in. My arms moved like they were underwater, but they moved. I ate one mini muffin, then another.
Julian reached over and lowered my sunglasses again. Frowned. I knew what he was seeing. When the panic attacks kicked in, my pupils dilated so wide they eclipsed my irises. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” I pushed my hair back, felt my pocket to make sure I hadn’t lost my phone or the keys to the van in the melee. “Where’s Michio?”
“In the crowd.”
I looked at him, startled. “He’s in that shit show?”
Julian nodded slowly, a strange look in his eyes. “Yeah. I was on my way to him when I saw you.”
I lost my breath again, but this time it had nothing to do with the crowd. The star of Julian’s documentary, the one he’d invested years and millions in, was in trouble.
And he’d savedme.
10
JULIAN
For the first time, I could read Willow like a book. She was surprised and confused. The question of why I’d come for her instead of Michio was written across her face.
“You’re half Michio’s size,” I said roughly. “He has a better chance in a mob like that.”
“But the documentary…” she shook her head, absolutely baffled. “If he gets hurt, no Olympics. It doesn’t make sense.”
