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I can’t look at him, so I let my chin droop. Panic rises in my gut, and I begin to breathe rapidly.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing my back continuously. “We are okay. Just tell me what hurts, and we will figure this out.”
His voice is calming, and it starts to take me out of the black hole of my anxiety. I speak timidly, still not able to meet his eye.
“My shoulder…I think it was the seatbelt…”
He reaches for my shoulder, touching it lightly. I begin to realize that it is likely bruised, not broken, the way my panicked mind had surmised.
“And your head?”
Aiden reaches a hand up and touches my forehead. His skin is cool, and I close my eyes, feeling further comforted.
“Steering wheel, I think,” I whisper. “I’m okay, though. I don’t think anything is broken.”
I don’t realize it, but I start to cry again. I should be relieved to see that I am really fine, that I was probably just having some kind of panic attack. But it just makes the situation more hopeless and embarrassing than ever.
He doesn’t seem to judge me for it. His eyes only show compassion and concern, directed right at me. I think it makes me feel worse. At this point, I’m too jumbled up to say. He removes a handkerchief from his back pocket and dabs my face, carefully, like I am made of porcelain.
“I think it's the same for me. A light bonk. Keeps the brain blood flowing, you know?” Despite Aiden’s levity, I cannot fathom a smile. All I can think about is how much that damn car of his is going to cost.
“The damages…” I say, looking at the concrete. “How much do you think they will be?”
Aiden sighs then takes away the handkerchief. He keeps a hand on my lower back, which I greatly appreciate. Just the fact that he isn’t yelling at me makes me grateful.
“I don’t know at this point. I will have to take it to the garage and have it assessed.”
There is guilt in his tone. I can hear it, even if he doesn’t say it. He feels almost bad that I am responsible for ruining his nice things. Whatever he was driving looks damn expensive, and this sends another surge of anxiety through me.
How could I be so stupid?
“And yours?”
I dare to look at his handsome face, and it pains me to do so. His eyes are the color of the ocean at dawn, his demeanor serene and gentle.
“Same, I suppose. I don’t know.” Neither one of us acknowledges that my car is worth probably only a tenth the value of his, or less.
Embarrassment fills me up as I begin to consider what on earth I am going to do about his car. The debts are stacking up, and they are about to suffocate me.
“Do you want to go to the hospital?” he asks.
I shake my head and then get to my feet. He doesn’t stop me but keeps a hand on my back to keep me from falling. It isn’t a forceful gesture, but a subtle, caring one.
“I may have just pulled something or bruised it,” I reply. “Let’s exchange numbers, and we can figure out how to get this done.”
Aiden nods, looking reluctant as we switch phones. My hands shake slightly as I put my number in, and he notices.
“I can get your car towed if you want, and I can take you home,” he says, sweetly. “I think my car will be fine to drive, at least for now.”
I shake my head again. I have to get out of here quickly. I can’t stand how utterly dumb I feel.
“I will be okay. I don’t live far from here. Thanks, anyway.”
He nods, looking like he wants to say something else. His face is devastatingly good looking, especially when it is scrunched up with worry.
It makes me feel special for a second when I think that he is concerned about me. Then I slap away the indulgence, knowing that it was I who caused the entire situation in the first place.
“Thank you,” I mutter to him. Without saying another word, I climb into the front seat and speed off. It likely isn’t legal to drive around in a car in this state, but I don’t care. I want to get home, to my safe place, and cry.
