14. Nuts and Bolts and Panic Attacks
Nuts and Bolts and Panic Attacks
LEO
The gymnasium is packed. Bleachers pulled out on all sides, our mezzanine seats give us a perfect view of the illuminated ring below. The lighting's dimmer up here in the stands, all the focus on the protected floor where the robots will battle.
Smart. Oil spills, sparks. How many times has Max scorched the counter at home?
The noise goes up and down with the crowd's energy, but there's a constant background hum. JP's got the event program spread across his lap, pointing out teams to Haru. "This one's from San Diego. Their heavyweight bot was second place last year."
"The triangular design is unusual," Haru observes, leaning closer. "Do you think it provides superior maneuverability?"
"Probably. Lower center of gravity, easier to spin—"
I'm not listening. Not really. My eyes keep drifting down to the competition floor where Max is standing with Forrest. They look…
good together. Max is gesturing with his hands the way he does when he's excited, obviously asking about one of the robots.
Forrest's nodding, that easy smile on his face, and then he's laughing at whatever Max said. My fists clench.
"There!" Haru's pointing now, waving enthusiastically. "I see Max!"
Max spots us, waves back. He's grinning, that bright smile that makes him look about twelve years old. He looks really happy.
Forrest says something, and Max laughs again, bumping their shoulders together. I should be happy for him. Max deserves someone who makes him laugh like that. Someone who shares his interests, who gets excited about robots and engineering, and… Someone who isn't me.
Except that's the whole fucking problem, isn't it?
I don't want it to be someone else making him smile like that.
I want it to be me. The realization sits heavily in my stomach.
Not new, exactly. I've been avoiding this thought for two weeks, pushing it down every time Max listed another reason, every time he looked at me with those hopeful blue eyes.
But watching him down there with Forrest, watching them huddle over Forrest's robot with the rest of the team, I can't avoid it anymore. I should be Max's first. Not someone like Forrest. Me.
There's nothing wrong with Forrest. That's the worst part.
He's handsome, talented, and nice. Del vouched for him.
Max likes him. They're already finding an easy rhythm together, the way Forrest's hand rests casually on Max's arm when he's making a point, the way Max leans in to hear him better over the crowd noise.
Do I want to date Max? Luca's question from weeks ago surfaces, unwanted. I shoved it aside then, but it's back now, insistent. Do I? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore except that watching Max with someone else makes me want to climb out of my skin.
"Look at that one." JP's pointing at a robot entering the ring. "That's got to be at least ten pounds over regulation."
"Perhaps it is mostly hollow?" Haru suggests.
"Nah, look at the armor plating.”
The first match starts. The crowd roars.
Two robots circle each other, testing, then one lunges.
Sparks fly. Someone's bot shorts out before the real battle even begins, and the crowd, including JP and Haru, bursts into laughter.
I manage a smile, but it feels like it's happening on someone else's face.
Down below, Max and Forrest are cheering for their team.
High-fiving when one of their robots wins.
Groaning together when another loses. They fit.
They work, and I'm up here having a crisis.
Elliot shifts beside me, pulling his headphones up from around his neck as the noise level increases. Haru notices immediately.
"Is it too much?" Haru asks quietly, concerned.
"No, I'm okay." Elliot adjusts the headphones to sit more comfortably. "These will block most of it if I need them to."
Haru nods, satisfied, and turns back to the program. "The next group includes the defending champion from San Clemente, oh! That is Forrest's division."
Right. Forrest's the defending champion. Of course, he is. Because he's not just nice and handsome and talented, he's also successful at the exact thing Max loves most. Perfect. He's perfect for Max. My hands are shaking. I press them against my thighs, willing them to stop.
"You okay?" JP's looking at me now, eyes sharp. "You're looking kind of pale."
"I'm fine."
"Leo—"
"I'm fine," I repeat, but my voice sounds wrong.
Too tight. "Just… warm in here." JP doesn't look convinced, but he lets it drop.
For now. The matches continue. More robots, more battles, more noise.
Down below, Max and Forrest are completely absorbed.
Their team is doing well. Every victory brings them closer together. Literally closer to the team trophy.
Max used to look at me like that. Like I was the person he wanted to share everything with. Now he's looking at Forrest.
"I never talk about my family," I hear myself say. JP turns. Elliot and Haru lean in, the noise of the crowd making private conversation possible in the anonymity of the stands.
"I have an older brother," I say, not sure why I'm saying this now. “And a younger sister. They're in Washington state."
Haru's eyes widen slightly. "I did not know this."
"Nobody does." I'm still watching Max. "I don't really… we don't really talk."
"At all?" Elliot asks carefully.
"Sometimes. Holidays, maybe. I call, and they always sound surprised. Like they forgot I existed until that exact moment." The words taste bitter. "They get off the phone quickly. Always busy with something more important."
JP's quiet beside me. He knows some of this already, more than the others. He always knows more.
"Are they…" Haru searches for the word. "Unkind to you?"
"No. That's the thing. They're not bad people. They're just… indifferent." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "My brother's a doctor. My sister is a pre-med student at Washington State. Dad does marketing, and Mom teaches middle school. They're all outgoing, gregarious, and normal. And I'm—"
"Different," Elliot finishes quietly.
JP makes a small sound. "It makes sense," he says after a moment, voice careful and quiet, "why you wouldn't want to risk Max then."
The words hit like a punch. Because yes. Yes, that's exactly it.
I glance sideways, but Haru's leaning forward over the railing, completely absorbed in whatever mechanical carnage is happening on the mat below, and Elliot has his arms folded, watching with the focused silence of someone running diagnostics in his head. They’re not listening. Good. Great. Nobody panic.
I'm not panicking.
Max is my person. The one who decided we were friends during orientation and never wavered.
Who texts me physics memes at 2 AM and knows how I take my coffee and doesn't mind when I space out mid-conversation.
Max makes me feel like I matter. Like, I'm not taking up space someone else could use better.
And I've been so terrified of losing him that I might have lost him anyway.
Down below, the lights shift. Dimmer in the stands, brighter on the competition floor. The next round is starting. The crowd's energy ratchets up, noise swelling. I can still see Max. He's standing close to Forrest, and the team is gathered around them. And then…
Forrest's hand. On Max's shoulder. Casual, like it belongs there, and Max doesn't move away.
What if I'm too late? The thought slams into me with physical force. My throat constricts. Can't breathe. Can't breathe properly. The air's too thin, too hot, not enough—
"Leo?" JP's hand on my shoulder. "Leo, hey—" I'm shaking. Full-body tremors I can't control. The gymnasium tilts, or maybe I'm tilting, everything's wrong, too loud, too bright. It’s all too much. What if he falls for Forrest? What if it's already happening? What if I'm too late?
"We need to go." JP's voice is firm but not unkind.
"Come on, up." His hands pull me up. Haru and Elliot rise too, Haru's hand half-outstretched, Elliot very still.
JP waves them down, already guiding me toward the exit.
The walk down from the mezzanine takes forever.
Or maybe seconds. Time's doing something weird.
My vision's tunneling, and I can't stop shaking.
Outside, the air is cool. JP settles me on a bench and crouches in front of me, hands on my knees. "Breathe," he says, calm and steady. "With me. In for four."
I try, but it comes out ragged. "That's okay. Again. In for four, hold for four." He grips my hands and squeezes, and I focus on that, the pressure of it, something solid, while my brain keeps cycling back to the look on Max's face. Did I mess everything up?
"Leo. Five things you can see."
I force my eyes to move. "Bench. Your shoes. Streetlight. Trash can. Door."
"Good. Four things you can touch." I press my palms flat against the wood slats. Bench. His hand, still wrapped around mine. The denim of my jeans. The cold bite of the metal armrest.
"Three things you can hear." Noise bleeding out from the gymnasium. Cars passing somewhere on the road beyond the parking lot. My own breathing, still too fast but evening out with each count.
"Two things you can smell."
"Cut grass." I pull in a slow breath. "Your cologne."
"One thing you can taste."
I swallow. "Copper. I think I bit my lip."
"Okay." JP moves to sit beside me, one hand rubbing slow circles on my back. "Keep breathing. You're okay."
The shaking doesn't stop entirely, but it lessens. I press my palms against my thighs, up and down, trying to stay in the physical sensation. I feel wrung out. Sweaty and exhausted and embarrassed in a distant, muffled way, like the embarrassment is happening to someone else and I'm just watching.
"You know how to do this," I say. "The grounding thing."
"Yeah." JP's voice is steady. "I know how to do this."
JP's good at this. Because of his ex. Now he knows how to talk people down from panic attacks, and I hate he had to learn this. Now he's using that knowledge to help me, and I don't know whether to be grateful or furious at the universe for making any of this necessary.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"Don't." JP squeezes my shoulder. "That's what friends do."
More breathing. The world slowly comes back into focus. I'm exhausted, but the immediate terror has backed off. Left behind is… emptiness. And the question that triggered all of this. What if I'm too late?
"I should walk home." My voice sounds scraped raw. "I want to walk. Clear my head. Maybe shower."
JP frowns. "I can walk with you—"
"No. Go back. It's less than twenty minutes, I'll be fine." I force myself to meet his eyes. "I promise I'm okay now. I need… I need to walk it off. Be alone for a bit."
"Text me when you get home."
"I will."
JP studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Okay. But if you're not home in thirty minutes, I'm coming to find you."
"Deal."
He heads back toward the gymnasium doors, glancing over his shoulder twice.
I wave him off, trying to reassure him. Not sure if I manage it.
Then I'm alone. I start walking. The campus is quiet this time of night; most people are off campus or in their dorms. My legs feel shaky, but movement helps. One foot in front of the other.
What if I'm too late? The thought circles. It’s relentless.
What if Max falls for Forrest? What if they're perfect together?
What if… Fuck, what if Max stops looking at me like I'm special and starts looking at me like…
like just a friend? How do I go back to that?
Breakfast across the table, pretending my chest doesn't ache.
Watching him be happy with someone else.
Smiling about it. How the hell do I do that?
The geek house appears ahead; the porch light is on. Waiting for us to come home. I pull out my phone to text JP
Home. I'm okay.
Then I stand there on the sidewalk, staring at the house.