“I don’t know… I’m not quite convinced yet.”
Genevieve gave her a wicked grin. “Then let me show you exactly how magical my tongue can be.”
She pushed Mia flat onto her back and straddled her before leaning in for a kiss.
Mia had never thought she could feel like this. Before these last few weeks with Genevieve, she would have told anyone who asked that she had been in love before.
Now, Mia could only come to the conclusion that before Genevieve, she hadn’t known what love truly was. She hadn’t realized that she could feel so much for another person. It was somehow overwhelming and comforting at the same time.
Mia hadn’t said the words yet, but she knew what was in her heart. Still, it was probably too soon for Genevieve. It had only been a few weeks, after all. She knew Genevieve cared for her, but she didn’t know if it was love yet, and she didn’t want to put Genevieve in the awkward position of not being able to say it back.
No, she was content to wait until she was sure she could receive the answer she was looking for.
They hadn’t moved in together officially, but they spent almost every night together, either at Mia’s place or Genevieve’s.
Mia went to sleep as usual, wrapped up with Genevieve, their limbs entangled after making sweet love to each other.
She woke up with a start in the middle of the night, the images flashing before her eyes.
Mia saw her stepfather screaming at her mother while she cowered in a corner, trembling. Running to her room as glass smashed behind her. Cowering in a corner watching him get progressively more and more drunk.
Mia gasped, trying to catch her breath, but there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the room.
Pull yourself together, Mia. This wasn’t the first time she’d woken up from a nightmare having a panic attack, and after weeks without nightmares, this one had caught her off guard.
Still, she should be able to deal with it.
Mia desperately tried to pull air into her lungs, but it felt like she was breathing pure carbon dioxide. She knew very well that hyperventilating would only make matters worse, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
“Mia? Mia, what’s wrong?”
Mia clutched at Genevieve’s wrist, trying to get the words out. “Can’t breathe,” she finally gasped.
Genevieve sat up in bed. “Medical condition or panic attack?”
Mia couldn’t answer; she was too busy trying to breathe.
“You can just shake or nod your head. Medical condition?”
Mia shook her head jerkily.
“Panic attack?”
Mia nodded as best she could.
“Okay.” Genevieve took both of Mia’s hands in hers. “Just breathe, sweetheart. All you need to do is slow down. I promise, you can breathe, but you’re trying to go too fast. Slowly.”
Mia tried, she really did, but the oxygen escaped her.
Genevieve let go of one of Mia’s hands and turned the bedside lamp on. “Just follow my hand. Breathe in…”
She lifted her hand slowly in the air.
“Now breathe out.”
Her hand went down again. Mia watched Genevieve’s hand, trying to match her breaths to the slow movement. Genevieve’s calm, assured manner helped to soothe her somewhat, to convince her that she wasn’t actually dying, even if it felt like she was.
Mia took shuddering breaths, following Genevieve’s hand. As she got herself more under control, Genevieve’s movements got slower and slower, forcing Mia to breathe more slowly as well. Tears of relief filled Mia’s eyes as she finally started to feel like she was getting the oxygen she needed.