Chapter 23
I’ve been here before.
Clawing and gripping my way out of near panic attacks because I’m terrified of getting close to people, which is why I fled from Tanner’s apartment once things started feeling real. He looked at me with so much vulnerability—like he truly saw me, and I nearly combusted into flames. As a general statement, any form of intimacy stresses me out and puts my body completely on edge. Maybe that’s because I grew up without being loved by the people who were supposed to be family.
Or maybe it’s because I don’t truly think I’m deserving of any of it—love, family. Happiness.
As I walk down the street, Tanner’s words repeat in my mind: II want to get to know you.
He was so open and raw that it made me shut down. My chest became tight, my breathing was hard, my hands were sweating, and my first instinct was to leave as soon as possible. I didn’t want him seeing me like this—terrified, vulnerable, and broken. That’s when people usually decide I’m no longer worth the effort; they’ve deemed me too hard to love, too hard to try, that it’s easier leaving me than staying.
And I know that’s some of my internal trauma coming out in the form of anxiety, which is why I work on it with my therapist when I see her every few weeks, but it’s never enough. I can accept and heal from what broke me, can understand to some extent why my life turned out the way it did—why nobody wanted me—but nothing or nobody will ever make me feel worthy enough of their love, time, and effort. That’s something I need to work through on my own, and I don’t think there’s enough time in any day to work through everything I’ve gone through.
When I finally approach my apartment, my shoulders sag in relief as exhaustion takes over, so much so that I hardly register walking up the steps to the building, unlocking the door, and climbing the three flights of stairs to get to my actual home. I’m barely stepping in the door when my phone vibrates in my back pocket, and assuming it’s either Gia or Sam wondering whether I’m alive or not, I take it out without much thought.
Tanner:Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here, Daisy Girl.
Tanner: Also.
Tanner: Tell me when you make it home safe. I know you need space, but if you don’t at least tell me that you’re home, I’ll be stopping over to make sure.
A strange combination of a laugh and sigh escape from my mouth, and I can’t decide if I’m relieved he cares enough to check in still or if it’s the pent-up anxiety. My fingers hover over the screen as I stand in the middle of my hallway, unable to move, deciding whether to respond now or later. I wouldn’t put it past him to show up, seeing how he knows where I live since walking me home a few weeks ago from the bar, but there’s no way he’d remember where to go. We don’t live far from each other, maybe a few blocks, honestly, but because my apartment complex is tucked into a small corner of the city, it can be challenging to find if you’ve only been here once or twice.
Still staring at my phone, I begin typing, erasing, and typing again. There aren’t enough words to convey how sorry I am for leaving suddenly and how much of a waste of time it would be to try putting effort into being friends with somebody like me, but none of that feels right. If I’m going to have those conversations, they need to be in person. So, I settle for something more simple.
Daisy:I’m home. Thank you for tonight.
A reply comes back instantly.
Tanner:Goodnight, Daisy Girl.
A few days have passed since I last saw Tanner, and I’m more on edge than usual. I’ve slept worth shit since that night, completely tossing and turning over our conversation and how quickly I left because I started feeling things I’ve spent a long time avoiding. Even though we’ve spent the past few days texting loosely, everything still feels off. Texting Tanner isn’t the same as being in his presence, and as dramatic as this sounds, I kind of hate this tension between us.
I thought a lot about this throughout the week. Somewhere deep, deep down in the coldest chambers of my frozen heart, I like Tanner. He’s funny and persistent and seems like a genuinely good guy. Maybe that’s why I freaked out Monday—because there’s a possibility he wouldn’t intentionally hurt me if I got too close. I get the feeling he’d embrace whatever I threw at him with a smile on his face, and something about that alarms me.
I just can’t figure out why that is.
“Oh, would you stop brooding already? I can feel the shift in energy all the way from my office.” Sam’s warmth takes up space in my office as he saunters in like this is his space, dragging Danicka’s old chair from her desk and pulling it right next to mine. My eyebrows pinch together as I look at him, resting my chin in the palm of my hand as he situates himself.
“I’m not brooding,” I say, turning in my chair to look at him. “What reason would I have to do so?”
Sam looks at me flatly and folds his arms over his chest. “I don’t know,” he says coolly. “I’d assume it’s because you panicked and left dinner with God’s greatest gift and now are wallowing in self-pity until you get the courage to talk to him again.”
“First of all,” I begin, pointing a finger at him. “If you ever tell him you think he’s God’s greatest gift, I’d never hear the end of it.” Sam chuckles, which makes me grin. “And second, probably.”
After I’d gotten home the night of my dinner with Tanner, I texted the group chat consisting of Sam and Gia and informed them that dinner went “somewhat okay.” Both of them knowing me as well as they do, immediately assumed I panicked and left, although they didn’t have the full details of what was said or what happened. I didn’t want to talk about it then, and I don’t want to now, but with Sam, there isn’t much of a choice.
He raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Care to share with the class?”
“I don’t know,” I admit with a small shrug. “He just said some things that made me panic, is all.”
Sam’s eyebrows bunch together, a wariness pooling in his eyes. “Like what?”
I hum. For some reason, I’m apprehensive about sharing this conversation with Sam. Not because I can’t trust my best friend, because I most certainly can, but there’s just something nagging at me to protect the conversation with Tanner. Whether it’s my own shame from being so anxious to the point that I left his home or if it’s because he was vulnerable with me, I’m not sure. Sam’s face softens at whatever he sees on mine, and I shake my head. “He was just asking why I shut myself out from people, and it made me clam up because he…” I trail off, nibbling my bottom lip and glancing away momentarily.
“Because he cares?” Sam guesses, not taking his focus from mine.
I nod and drop my shoulders. “Yeah.”
“So, why is that a problem?”
“Because Sam,” I keep my gaze focused on my friend. “What if I let him into my life, and he leaves? It sounds dumb—“
“It doesn’t.”
“But it does,” I challenge. “I’m going to be twenty-seven in a few weeks, and I still can’t get close to people?”
Sam makes a face and contemplates. “You can get close to people—look at Gia and I. Duncan, even before he left. It’s more like…if a man tries pursuing you in any capacity, friends or not, you freak out.”
My eyes narrow slightly. “Yeah, but I didn’t have that problem with you.”
Sam winks. “I didn’t give you the option. Plus, I think you knew the minute I asked about the products you use in those beautiful curls that I was gay. So it doesn’t count.”
I laugh and hold both my hands up. “Fine, that argument is invalid.” The smile slowly falls from my face. “But, I don’t think Tanner is trying to pursue me. He told me he wants to be friends. There’s a big difference between friends and pursuing somebody.”
Sam tilts his head. “Is there, though?”
“I mean…yeah?”
“My dear Daisy,” he begins. “I think you need to get either your brain or eyes checked. Maybe both at this point.”
I jerk my head back, a smile forming on my face in both amusement and disbelief. “What? Why?”
“Tanner may say he wants to be friends with you, but he doesn’t look at you that way.”
I hesitate. “How does he look at me?”
“Like he wants to be more than friends.”
I must look as shocked as I feel because Sam starts chuckling and stands from his chair, seemingly proud of himself for bomb-dropping something like that on me. “Go talk to him, Daisy,” he says when he approaches the door, turning to lean against the frame. “You freaked out Monday, and that’s okay. I don’t think Tanner is somebody who’d hate or think less of you because of that, but you need to talk to him. Maybe try to be friends with him and not freak out about it?”
I hum. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the queen of freaking out.”
“No, I know,” Sam’s eyes flicker with amusement, a grin tugging at his mouth. “But you’re also somebody worth getting to know, Daisy. Let him.”
My face softens. “But what if he hurts me? Or thinks I’m not…” I don’t finish the thought. Bringing up my biggest insecurity is too vulnerable, too unfamiliar spoken out loud.
But the truth is, I don’t feel good enough. I don’t know how to be good enough for somebody. And I don’t blame my parents for the mistakes they made when my siblings and I were young, but it’s hard opening to people because I was never allowed the space to do so. My parents would’ve preferred my siblings and I to stay out of the way because they were too miserable together to see how their moods impacted us. If we showed any emotion other than happiness, it was treated as an inconvenience. I can look back on that now and recognize that it had nothing to do with us and more to do with my parents not having enough mental capacity to take care of three kids. But when you’re young, none of that matters. You want your parents, and more importantly, you want to feel wanted by them. You don’t understand that they have their own problems to work through, and that sometimes, those problems are taken out on the wrong people.
If one of us got hurt playing outside or got into a fight over whatever dumb shit we were doing at the time, Mom would roll her eyes and scoff, muttering that she “didn’t have time for this bullshit,” and blow us off to smoke in her bedroom. My dad wasn’t home most days if it meant he’d have to be in the same room as my mom, so we were stuck fending for ourselves.
Other times, we’d get screamed at for feeling something that required support from our parents because it meant we needed to be cared for. My siblings and I grew up parenting each other, and as an adult, it’s been difficult forming relationships with other people. It’s hard letting people in when I don’t know their intentions or trust that I won’t be too much.
And yet, the green-eyed wonder who takes up space in my mind wants to know me. And more than that, a small part of me wants that, too. But every time I finally think I’m ready to put those walls down and let him in, panic claws at my throat and reminds me that I’m not good enough. As often as I challenge the thoughts, I can’t seem to jump over that hurdle.
“You are worth getting to know, Daisy,“ Sam repeats the sentiment from his place at the door, a flicker of sadness washing over his face as if he read my thoughts. “You’re good enough, too. And I know I’m not speaking solely for myself when I say that.”
I don’t reply right away, letting my friend’s words ripple through me. “His mind could change,” I say softly. “He could decide that none of those things are true and back out.”
Sam regards this, nodding. “I don’t know much about Tanner—Mr. Moore,” his eyebrows furrow as he works that out in his head. “That’s still weird, by the way—calling him by his first name.”
I grin. “I know.”
“But I digress,” Sam continues. “I don’t think Tanner would do something like that. Quite frankly, I don’t think he’d waste his time if he thought you weren’t going to be worth all of it. And besides. If all else fails, you have two best friends who would bury a body for you.”
My eyebrow raises. “Should I be concerned?”
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “But Tanner certainly should be.”
I laugh, and before Sam fully steps out of the office, he glances over his shoulder. “Don’t think I didn’t hear the part about it being your birthday in a few weeks. We’re going to celebrate.”
I roll my eyes and wave a dismissive hand at him. “Yeah, whatever. We can table that conversation for later.”
“Talk to him, Daisy!” Sam calls from halfway out the door, and I’m slow to rise, but I do. Although fucked up, it somehow calms me that my friends are willing to do whatever necessary to anybody that hurts me. They know I’d do the same, but it’s nice. I’m constantly reminded how fortunate I am to have the friends I do. Without thinking much about my next movements, I leave my office and head down the hall to see Tanner.