Chapter 21
Drew
I
cruise through the romance section at Barnes & Noble, looking for books two and three of the Hades and Persephone series I started by mistake but now am greatly invested in. I’m glad to be here in the early evening, avoiding most of the crowd.
Seeing Lacey really upped my spirits, and I feel a pep in my step I have not had in a while, but it doesn’t cancel out the anxiety of being outside the familiar space of my apartment. With my headphones in, listening to Stand Atlantic’s album, Pink Elephant, I focus on the colorful shelves in front of me, occasionally finding myself distracted by books I’m not looking for but may still be coming home with me.
Being out feels different now.
I have this sense of anxiety hanging over me when I walk around being just one person in a crowd of people, unaware of what those around them are going through. I feel like running errands and being out and about should feel normal. I never had an issue with it before, but my idea of normal is no longer reality.
It was a normal day when someone decided to bring a gun into a middle school.
It was a normal day when someone took away my students’ sense of security.
It was a normal day when my life was changed forever.
I find the next two books of the series and tear myself away from the shelves before I leave with more than I came for. I get in line at the check-out, taking one of my headphones out, and listen to a chaotic mix of Bonnie Fraser’s vocals and cashiers asking for phone numbers for Barnes & Noble memberships.
When it’s my turn to check out, I give my books to the cashier. I’m only half listening as she tells me how much she loves this series and how, if I come back, I have to let her know how I like it. She is young and enthusiastic, probably just working to earn the extra holiday pay, and I think I would appreciate her small talk on any other day.
But today, I just want her to give me my books and let me be on my way.
“Are you a Barnes & Noble member?” She asks as she scans the books’ barcodes.
“No, but I have the educator’s discount.” Her enthusiasm withers away at my mention of being a teacher.
“Did…” she treads carefully, avoiding my eyes and staring at the screen in front of her. “Did you know anyone?”
My face or my hesitation must show her my confusion because then she adds in a whisper, “From that shooting?”
Instantly, and without warning, I’m brought back to my classroom. Terror and gunshots making my ears explode. My eyes fill up with water as my throat goes dry. I feel my entire body tense. My chest tightens around my heart, making the beat of it quicken.
I need to move.
I need to get out of here before I’m trapped.
I don’t even care if I look crazy, don’t even care if I’m making a scene. My breathing is getting shallow, and my lungs are screaming for air. I find the will to unglue my feet from the tiled floor and run out of the store as quickly as I can, sprinting to my car, tears falling from the corners of my eyes, trailing down my cheeks and down my neck.
I finally find solace in the driver’s seat.
This isn’t healthy.
I can’t be brought back to this place at any given moment.
I need to face this.
I need to overcome this.
I grip the steering wheel with my hands and lightly set my head down, touching my forehead to the cool leather. I stay in this position and wait until my heartbeat returns to normal before turning on the car and making my way home.
I’ll buy the books online.
I pull into the garage, park my car, turn off the ignition, and take a breath. I cannot wait to be back in my own space. I head to the elevator, empty-handed and overwhelmed.
My mind is racing with all the thoughts I have been pushing down. All of the thoughts I need to face because I know I’m no more than a second away from freezing at any given moment, losing my breath and not being able to get it back, the adrenaline pumping through my body making me feel like my heart will burst from my chest.
I can’t live in this state of being so wound up, I can explode at any moment.
The elevator dings, and the doors open. I step in, almost immediately feeling the sense of relief I have been chasing since leaving the bookstore, but I’m no longer alone.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Emmett takes a step towards me, pushing himself of the elevator wall. He smiles at me as if seeing me has just brightened his day.
He is in his usual attire of black jeans and a black hoodie, and if I was feeling like myself, I may have commented on how he stole my look, seeing as I am dressed in the same fashion: black leggings and a black sweater.
I force a smile back, but I know he can see through it.
“Everything okay?” he asks, eyebrows tightening with concern.
I sigh, stepping through the doorway, forgetting to push the button for my floor. “I will be.” I lean back against the wall, closing my eyes and taking in an inhale.
I hear the click of a button being pushed and then feel Emmett take a step closer to me, matching my position. The doors make a creaking sound as they close, and I feel Emmett’s outer arm brush up against mine, but the touch doesn’t go away. His hands are in his pockets, but his arm stays gently pressed against mine, and it overwhelms me with stability. I begin to feel like his slight touch is strong enough to hold up my entire body.
I exhale, my head falling to the side, resting against his arm, only finding the space just below his shoulder because he is so much taller than me.
Without another word, the cab rides us up, making me feel even more grounded as the bottom of my shoes press against the floor of the elevator. I don’t move from the position we’re in, and neither does Emmett. Not until the elevator stops, and I open my eyes, bringing my head back to its upright position as the doors open.
I push myself off the wall and take a few steps out of the elevator, assuming this is where we part. The realization of resting my head against my cranky neighbor in the same elevator he has told me I’m the worst person to live below hits me hard, and I feel the blood rush up to my cheeks.
I don’t even turn around to say goodbye, instead wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, I pick up my pace heading for my apartment. Without a word, Emmett takes one large step to match my three small ones, and he walks next to me as we exit the elevator and head to my front door.
As we walk, his hands are no longer in his pockets, and the outside of my hand skims against one of his, sending heat to my skin that touches him, making me blush even more.
My mind is racing as we walk. I feel Emmett stealing glances my way as we make our way down the hallway, not knowing what look is in his eyes because I keep my head down. I don’t want to risk looking up at him and showing him the shade of red my cheeks are.
I keep my eyes on my feet as I walk, but I think I like being the product of his gaze. My body definitely is having a reaction to it.
“Hey, D.”
I look up for the first time and feel the blood that was congregating in my face drain, as if I’m seeing a ghost.
Reed’s smile crumples when he sees Emmett at my side. I watch as Reed’s glances shift between my face to Emmett’s, having to look a few inches up to meet Emmett’s eyes. Reed is tall compared to me, standing at 6 feet, but I’m only 5’3, so most people tower over me. His frame is slender, his flannel filling him out more than his actual body. His brown hair always looks tousled and falls on his forehead, just above his blue eyes. He’s wearing a black knit hat and a black and gray flannel over a black Carhartt t-shirt. He has his work boots on and blue jeans, and his hands have their usual tint of black from working underneath cars all day.
Emmett on the other hand, standing at least 6’4, makes Reed look… Small. His features are sharper compared to Reed’s round face and button nose, and Emmett’s look is nothing like Reed’s. Emmett’s hair is twisted in a bun on the crown of his head with a few curls framing his face. He’s wearing black skinny jeans with Vans, and a black hoodie with the design of the Grim Reaper skateboarding with the words “SK8 or DIE” on the back.
Trying his hardest to hide his surprise or distaste from seeing Emmett, Reed turns his eyes to me. “I came to see if you were feeling better. You were super out of it when I was here a few days ago.”
“You didn’t text me back,” I say.
“So? I’m here now. You’re okay now, right?”
This is exactly what I don’t need. I feel myself getting worked up again, the same way I felt at the check-out at Barnes & Noble today, or how I felt looking at the resources the district sent me. I’m starting to feel my chest tighten and my heart beat faster, but I try to swallow the feelings because my fists clench at the thought that he is here. Again. And he is telling me how to feel.
How is it that butterflies used to overtake my stomach around Reed? Now, I have a pool of anger bubbling.
“Hey, man. I’m Emmett. I’m Drew’s neighbor.” Emmett interjects, and he extends his hand to Reed who does not take his eyes off me. Emmett has to move in a little closer to me to try and meet Reed’s gaze, so his arm crosses in front of me, putting a minor barrier between Reed and me.
Reed pretends there is no one besides us here. “You busy? I thought we could hang out,” Reed continues. Emmett drops his arm but keeps his closeness to me.
At this moment, I don’t know what comes over me, but I feel myself fuming, words piling in my throat, ready to projectile vomit at that statement.
“Yeah, I’m busy.” I grit through my teeth, even though I’m not busy at all. I don’t want to be anywhere near Reed right now.
“C’mon, Drew.” Reed takes a step closer to me, and I feel Emmett tense at my side, his gaze shifting between me and Reed. “I miss you, D.” His smirk makes my stomach twist as he grabs my belt loop. He uses two fingers to wrap around the material and tug at my hips, trying to bring me closer to him. It is a gesture that used to make me swoon, but right now, I feel like I want to throw up.
In the corner of my eye I see Emmett’s hands turn to fist, knuckles white.
Something comes over me. I push Reed back and he has to steady himself on his feet. “Hang out? You mean fuck?” His face stunned at the harshness of my tone, eyes widened and his mouth slightly open. I have never given him this response before, not in all the years we have known each other.
I feel Emmett’s mood shift too, all of a sudden focusing on me, and me only, and what I’m going to say next.
“Because that’s what we do? Right, Reed? All we’ve done for the past five years. Because we aren’t in a relationship.” I feel all the blood rush to my head, making my temples pound. “I don’t owe you an explanation as to why I seemed so ‘out of it.’ You don’t even know me. You don’t know what I’m going though, and you sure as hell don’t get to come here and tell me that I’m okay.” My voice is slowly growing in volume. “Do you really think I’m okay, Reed? Do I look okay?”
I pause, long enough to allow him to ponder my question but not long enough to answer. “Do you think I’m okay after hearing gunshots across the hall from my classroom? Do you think I’m okay after begging my students to help me build a barricade?” I am now yelling to release almost everything I’ve been holding in since this morning, and even before, and I don’t care who hears. “Do you think I’m okay after praying to a higher power I don’t even believe in to stretch my body enough to shield my kids in case the shooter got through the fucking door?”
The words pour out of me as if they’ve been on the tip of my tongue, and I can tell I have made Reed uncomfortable, but I do not have the energy to make him feel better about what I am saying, what I am feeling, when I don’t even know how to do that for myself.
I find myself huffing and puffing after letting out the words, and Reed is frozen, still in front of my door, so I leave him with a few last words.
“Now, can you please move out of our way?”