Seventeen #2
The tacky underside of my shoe stuck to the tile as I shifted my foot, curling my toes.
Moving my focus upward, I tuned into my legs, feeling the muscles in my calf tighten with each flex.
Higher up, my nostrils flared as oxygen rushed into my lungs, my ribs expanding upon inhalation.
Deep within my chest, the thumping of my heart pulsed against my fingertips before easing into a calm and steady rhythm.
Elliot’s soothing voice spoke again. “Now open your eyes.”
My eyelids fluttered open, and I was back on solid ground. I slumped against the back stall wall, scrubbing my face with my hands.
Elliot gently grasped my fingers, pulling my attention toward him. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his posture rigid. A flicker of worry danced in his eyes as he scanned over my face.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” I murmured, uncertainty creeping into my voice. I shrank into myself. “ Um …how did you know that would work?”
“My mom used to have panic attacks after my dad left.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. “That must’ve been hard for both of you guys. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I felt so useless, like there was nothing I could do to help.”
I withdrew my hand from his. “I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I just…Meredith was…I don’t know. I guess I just overreacted.”
“No, you underreacted.” Elliot laughed wearily. “I was about to toss her skinny ass into the trash can, but Andrew ‘accidently’ dropped a few of those cupcakes on her shirt before I got the chance.”
“You guys are crazy.” I chuckled, my laugh coming out strained. “Why would you even do that for me?”
“Because we’re your friends.” He shrugged. “And friends always have each other’s backs.”
Friends. Nothing more. Yeah.
“ Thanks for…helping me with all this. I’m sorry you had to see me like that .”
“Don’t apologize. Shit happens. I’m just glad I could help. I learned a few tricks after my mom, so yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck timidly. “Was that your first?”
“No. They started after Jessie died. I haven’t had one in a few years.”
“The trigger…was it Meredith?”
“She really knows how to make someone feel like they’re this big.” I squeezed my thumb and forefinger together. “She’s such a fucking bitch.”
“ Sooo, is this a bad time to say I told you so?” he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.
With that one question, his playful nature surfaced once more. Soft laughter echoed through the hollow stall, easing my stress as the two of us locked eyes. It was a rare moment of calm, something I hadn’t realized I needed.
For a minute, it was as if the world outside didn’t matter. Elliot had been my escape from panic. He pulled me away from Meredith, he shielded me from Ryan, and oddly enough, he kept me from getting suspended.
I guess he was my white knight.
I cringed at the thought of needing saving—especially the idea of being saved by a boy —but I guess everyone needs a hand sometimes, no matter who it’s from. As our laughs faded, so did my smile. My gaze drifted downward. I could hear Dani’s words like a broken record repeating the same line.
Do you like him enough to show him who you are underneath all the cheerleading and Prom Queen shit?
My voice cracked as I admitted, “I think I have social anxiety.”
“You’re literally running for Prom Queen.”
“Ironic, right?”
“You always seem so…confident.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how I haven’t won an Academy Award yet.”
“So, wait…” He looked at me, scrunching his eyebrows closer together. “With Meredith, and Kendra, and Andrew, and Dani, and all the cheerleaders, and the football players, and the band nerds, and theater kids—talking to them makes you anxious?”
“Just seeing people makes me anxious. Doesn’t matter if I’m talking to them. It’s worse if they see me, too.”
“What about strangers?”
“It could be my parents, and I’d be anxious.”
The sides of his mouth pointed down as he visibly gulped, his throat bobbing. “And me?”
“Uh,” I hesitated, parting my lips several times as I contemplated lying. But what good would that do? “Yeah. Sometimes.”
“Am I doing something wrong?”
“My anxiety isn’t rational. It doesn’t discriminate. You could be our lord and savior, son of God, Jesus Christ, and I’d still be anxious.” I frowned, pursing my lips. “But with you, it’s not as bad as everyone else.”
I saw a glimpse of something flicker in his eyes as he studied me, his expression pensive.
“Is…have you ever told anyone before?”
“No.”
“Your parents?”
“They don’t know.” I shook my head, averting my gaze. “Besides, the last thing they need is to be worried about me getting a little nervous. I’m fine. I can manage.”
“Clarke, you had a panic attack.” He shook his head emphatically, his eyes pleadingly searching mine. “I saw my mom get so worked up all the time, she almost lost her shit, so just…talk to your parents about it.”
I can’t.
“Why does it matter?”
“Because it just does.”
“But why?”
“Because it just—”
“I’m fine.” I cut him off as I continued to ramble on. “Honestly, I’ve been managing for a few years and I don’t think—”
“Clarke!” he yelled, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I care about you, okay? So, talk to your fucking parents.”
My eyes widened, the shock of his words striking me to the core.
Elliot cared about me?
And, if I was honest with myself, I was beginning to care about him too.
But none of that mattered—at least, not right now—because this wasn’t about us.
It was something far bigger than I could put into words, and I couldn’t bring myself to explain why.
There were things I wasn’t ready to share with him.
Not yet . When I met Elliot’s gaze, his determination was undeniable, but no matter how convincing he was, I knew I could never talk to my parents about my mental health.
“Okay.” I sighed. “I’ll talk to them.” I won’t .
His features softened, a look of guilt washing over his face. He sagged his shoulders.
“Sorry. You’re just annoyingly stubborn.”
“So are you.” I half smiled.
“Anyways.” He cleared his throat as he clicked open the lock on the stall. “I should go…I’m not really supposed to be in here.”
I caught his arm before he could walk away, pulling him into a hug. He relaxed into my embrace, nuzzling his head in the nape of my neck. The familiar scent of mahogany and amber was intoxicating.
“Thank you.” I breathed into the fabric of his shirt.
“What are friends for? Right?”
Friends .
There it was again, that word smacking me in the face. But what if I wanted to be more? Maybe I had been too blind to realize it sooner, but in that moment, it all made sense—I was totally falling for Elliot fucking Keller.
And I was absolutely screwed.