Chapter 4
Unfortunately our bonding begins with navigating our way through large pockets of people making their way to the Tower Stage.
Even at the best of times, I imagined getting caught in the merging of different crowds and audiences as they travelled to other stages would be unpleasant.
But when you have a fear of crowds, it’s a living, breathing nightmare.
Especially when you happen to be physically attached to someone you’ve just met. Who, incidentally, you also sort of want to kill. (A tiny bit. In a non-serious way.)
Given the state of our environment and the horrific flurry of people around us, I’m definitely not running at full capacity. Not enough to be coming up with solutions to get this man to relieve himself of this drumstick anyway.
Although, I’m not too worried, to be totally honest. My mere presence has been off-putting for men my whole life anyway, so I’m sure it won’t be long before he surrenders simply to get away from me.
My ex certainly proved this theory to be correct: my first (and last) uninspiring attempt at dating that I still wish I could erase from my memory. He seemed to tolerate me for a handful of months before realising that I wasn’t worth his time.
I try not to think about it too much but when I do, I recite Hennie’s words of wisdom directly after he dumped me:
‘He had the personality of a fridge magnet,’ she said, booping my nose with a stern expression. ‘He was no match for you, Harty. You deserve so much more.’
As much as I appreciate her, I found these words hard to believe after my long history of being bullied.
Possessing an appearance and personality that were both entirely wrong in the eyes of the boys I went to school with dented my ability to believe I deserve any kind of romance at all.
Even all these years later, the cruel words that were used to describe me are permanently etched onto the inside of my brain.
I hoped I might forget them, but alas. Who knew that sticks and stones indeed break bones, but also that words can hurt you?
That motto isn’t terribly inspiring, I realise. It might not catch on.
With someone like Elliot I won’t need long. I give him a day until he runs for the hills to be away from me.
As soon as we can get away from these crowds, anyway.
We both wind our way around huge groups and weave carefully through families and couples while still holding tightly onto the stick. Before long, I’m becoming painfully aware of his body and how it orbits mine as we travel connected along the thoroughfare.
Josh saunters behind us as Owen and Hennie seem to be caught in conversation further behind.
‘So, have you guys figured out how you’re going to function like this? Like where you’re gonna sleep? Oh shit, are you gonna sleep together?’
Elliot’s gravelly voice radiates a quiet confidence. ‘We’ll work that out as we go.’
‘We’re open to suggestions,’ I tell Josh with a grin, keeping my gaze laser-focussed on his face in an attempt to blank out the crowds around us.
‘Not from him, we’re not,’ Elliot replies dryly.
‘Well, you may have trouble getting suggestions from him,’ Josh says. ‘Elliot Walker is a man of few words, chosen and spoken carefully.’
‘I’ve carefully chosen two words I’m thinking about using right now,’ Elliot utters under his breath.
‘Well, I do hope you’re not referring to foul language, doll, we’ve got company,’ Josh says, nodding at me. ‘Or hostages. However you want to look at it.’
I snort at Elliot’s pained expression as his free hand rubs his temple.
‘Don’t worry,’ Josh beams at me. ‘This is our love language. Love you too, Ell.’
Elliot just rolls his eyes as he manoeuvres me behind him to walk through a huge swarm of people. As we approach it, I can see how little space there is in there to move around, and imagine myself within the fray – light-headed and reeling.
My neck and face start to tingle with heat as a surge of adrenaline hits. I twist my head around to see another crowd of people behind us, closing in, coming towards us too fast.
And then my legs move before I realise what I’m doing. I pull back harshly, taking Elliot with me. He yelps and follows me as I weave to the edge of the path, slotting myself safely between a bin and a fence.
I slam my eyes shut. A voice reverberates somewhere between my ears but I’m too busy concentrating on staying on my feet to listen, the world desperately wanting to tilt sideways. I clench my fists to check I can still feel them; I can, which is a good sign it’s not a full-blown attack yet.
I feel a soft brush of contact on my arm and a whisper of breath on my ear.
‘Nora?’ I hear Elliot’s voice ask faintly. ‘Nora, are you alright?’
I let out a slow breath and prepare myself to open my eyes and see the cold, blank expression on Elliot’s face.
But when I do, that’s not what I see. His frame is close to mine, protecting me from Josh’s view and most of the passing crowd.
To my surprise, his expression is tender and unmistakably concerned with a flicker of confusion.
Fixed entirely on me. Not knowing why, I feel the pressure in my chest loosen very slightly.
‘Out of the way, nerd,’ a familiar voice snaps. I feel a bottle of water being pressed into my hand and Hennie’s hand on the back of my neck, steadying me. I focus on my breath, and pop the cap of the bottle open to take a delicate sip.
‘Is she okay?’ Elliot asks quietly.
‘She’ll be fine,’ Hennie huffs. ‘She’s a toughie, aren’t you Hartley?’
‘Yeah,’ I say miserably. I regret it immediately, as the action somehow sends me into another dizzy spell. I release another slow, steady breath.
Ignoring Elliot’s proximity, I follow my regular steps to cool my nervous system with Hennie’s help.
She ties my hair back with a scrunchie and occupies my free hand with her tight grip, occasionally instructing me to breathe out for longer – she can tell when my breathing is too shallow.
She has done this countless times, and it’s in moments like this I think she knows my own body better than I do.
My chest continues to expand slowly and I feel more air gently filter in, as the heat on the back of my neck starts to cool. I squeeze my fists together, concentrating on the sensation.
After not too long, I feel my body come back to life. It’s not really an attack – more of a premonition. A warning. Feeling the boys’ eyes on me, I shrink back with embarrassment before I notice Owen pulling Josh into conversation to give me a semblance of privacy.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ I say, taking another greedy sip of water.
‘Nothing to apologise for,’ Elliot says firmly. ‘Do you have a hard time with crowds?’
I stare at him, startled by the direct question.
I don’t normally make a habit of letting acquaintances know about my phobia.
Sharing this with people who I’ve just met is deeply uncomfortable for me.
But necessary – it’s clear now that he needs to know if we’re going to co-exist in this environment.
It would be unfair not to. And it seems like he won’t be a complete dick about it, at least.
I nod. ‘I do. Sometimes… it’s just, I find them overwhelming. I’m prone to panic attacks, especially in busy places.’
His eyes roam my face, as if he’s looking for something. ‘I’m glad you told me. If there’s anything I can do to help, tell me what you need, okay?’ His voice is quiet, but the gravelly tones of it are still present. I nod with a light smile and congratulate myself for staying on my feet.
He looks at me again, with more hesitation this time.
‘Thanks for telling me.’ There’s a softness in his voice that makes my breath catch in my throat.
‘Thank you,’ I echo carefully.
Hennie pulls her scrunchie out of my hair and fluffs up my curls with a smile.
‘All okay?’
‘Yeah,’ I say with a nod. ‘Thanks, Hen.’
‘Anytime.’
‘We’re well.’
‘We’re well,’ she repeats.
I beam at our saying – it’s our way of letting each other know if we’re really okay, and has been for most of our friendship.
There’s something about the beautiful simplicity of the phrase that makes it easy to say ‘not well’ or ‘mostly well’.
She would find me before lunchtime at school with that warm glint in her eye, nudge me and whisper in her sweet voice, ‘We’re well? ’
Josh steps forward without apparently the faintest idea what is happening. He looks almost panicked, like he might be responsible for all this.
‘Do you need something, Nora? I can buy tacos? Do you need protein?’
‘I’m okay. Thank you though, Josh.’ I clear my throat. ‘You should both probably know, actually. I have enochlophobia. So stuff like this might happen… occasionally.’
Owen’s concerned, ‘Are you okay?’ clashes with Josh’s frenzied, ‘Endlo-what?’
I nod gratefully at Owen and look to Josh. ‘Enochlophobia. Fear of crowds.’
‘Oh,’ Josh says with a slow nod, before his eyes start to narrow in confusion. ‘So… why did you come to Firecrest?’
‘Ham,’ Elliot warns.
I wave a hand at him. ‘No, no, it’s okay. It’s a very good question. We came here to see this stupid band, actually.’ I raise the drumstick to emphasise my point. ‘They’re my favourite. It was worth the pain.’
‘Oh,’ Josh says lightly before his eyes widen with realisation. ‘Oh. That’s why you want that drumstick so badly!’
‘Yes, it is,’ I reply, my voice tight.
‘Oh, boy. Bet you feel bad now, Ell,’ Owen says, slapping Elliot’s shoulder.
Elliot, as usual, stays quiet and rolls his eyes so violently I’m surprised he lives to tell the tale.
‘Looks a little more quiet now,’ Owen observes, nodding at the path. It is, indeed, much less populated.
‘Where the heck were all those people going anyway? The Hounds suck,’ Josh remarks, watching the last dregs of people hurry past us towards the Tower Stage. ‘I’d rather listen to bins falling over.’
‘Must be pretty popular to garner a crowd that big,’ Elliot replies, his gaze darting to me. He must be waiting for me to call the shots. And to be honest, I feel bad enough for delaying us this long anyway.
‘We should go,’ I say. ‘Don’t want to keep you guys, thanks for sticking around.’
‘Nice,’ Josh says, following behind Elliot and I. ‘Sticking around. I get it. She’s much funnier than you, Elliot.’ Despite myself, I giggle at Elliot’s unamused expression.
We venture through the trees towards a much narrower path, which explains the bottle-neck of people earlier.
Josh appears next to me, his huge frame towering over me. Christ. He’s like a building. This must be what it feels like for Hennie to hang out with me.
‘You know I’m on your team, right?’
I blink. ‘Sorry?’
‘This competition that you’re in with this beautiful prick. I love him and all but he is devious, and you’ll need allies. You can count on me, is all I’m saying.’
Observing the moving crowds around us, Elliot just looks vaguely amused.
‘Thanks, Josh. In that case, we’ll break him in no time.’
I really do hope this is the case, so I can leave and get on with my life.
‘Okay, let me take you through his weaknesses.’ He rubs his hands together like a cartoon villain. ‘So. He loves coffee, hates tea, will probably remember everything you’ve ever said, can survive on practically two hours sleep, despises ketchup but ironically has an insatiable desire for redheads–’
‘Josh,’ Elliot cuts in, his deep voice strangled.
Apparently, this has ruffled Elliot enough to actually address Josh by his forename.
I’ll admit it’s lovely to see him rattled.
Very refreshing. ‘We met her less than an hour ago, could we give her a minute before overloading her with useless facts about me?’
Now my heart thumps with a renewed vigour that has nothing to do with crowds. I’m suddenly very conscious of the fact that my hair is dyed scarlet red before reminding myself of the state of his appearance, and push the thought silently aside.
‘What? It’s cute. I never said it was an unhealthy desire,’ Josh replies with a half-hearted shrug.
‘Jesus,’ Elliot says under his breath. ‘Thanks, bud. Didn’t take you long to turn against me. Approximately thirty minutes, actually. Please ignore him, Nora.’
Josh fires him his enormous toothy grin and pats his shoulder affectionately. ‘Sorry to sell you out so early, mate.’
Elliot shoots him a glare before glancing at me one more time, so briefly that I wonder if I imagined it.