Page 19 of Under Pressure

“This gives your desserts a run for their money,” he says in between bites. “Maybe you should open up a full-service restaurant.”

It feels good to hear his praise, that we’re on better terms now than we were weeks ago. We’ve become… friends. And that’s great. More than I could have hoped for.

So why does it suddenly seem like not enough?

Chapter Six

Mia

C minus.

Right there in bold red marker across the top of my test from last week.

I quickly flip it over before anyone can see. Did Dr. Vasquez really have to use such a bright color? Like the grade wasn’t bad enough?

I thought taking Classical Mythology as an elective would be fun, but apparently an idle interest in the subject doesn’t mean I’m actually any good at remembering what roles some of the lesser-known deities play.

Zeus? Hera? Sure, I know those. But Telphousa? Polyphemus? Yeah, no clue.

I read the selected texts for the test, but I guess I need to do a better job of committing the names to memory.

How’s it going to look on grad school applications that you’re unable to pass a simple elective? If you can’t even remember a few Greek gods, how will they trust you to complete graduate courses? Perform top-level research? Defend a thesis?

I take a few deep breaths before I get too overwhelmed and drag my feet to the Stress Lab later in the day, my mind still on Mythology.

Things go from bad to worse, though, as I begin setting up my stuff, only for the biofeedback machine not to turn on.

I press the button over and over, savagely, until my index finger is sore. I keep my back to Tyler, who’s on the other side of the room getting out the questionnaires for his participants, so he won’t see the tears forming in my eyes.

Please, please just work. I can’t take anything else today. Kelsey already yelled at me for no good reason this morning when she discovered I’d eaten all the leftovers. I’m also worried because my biofeedback group isn’t catching up to Tyler’s physical activity one.

I jam my thumb down on the button one last time, but still nothing.

What did you expect would happen? That it would magically turn on? You’re an idiot.

I gulp down a rough breath, my fingers trembling as I bring them up to cover my mouth.

You can’t even get this machine to work right. What was Dr. Price thinking letting you be in control of this? He’ll realize what a screw-up you are soon enough.

My heart picks up speed, the sound of it in my ears muffling everything else. I sit down heavily in my desk chair, suddenly unable to catch my breath. It’s like there’s a weight on my chest, keeping the air out.

He’ll give the whole project to Tyler, who deserved it in the first place. And you knowhewon’t fight for you to keep your spot on the team. He’s only concerned with number one.

A strangled gasp leaves me as I attempt to breathe, desperately trying to get air in my lungs.

“Mia?” Tyler crosses the room, bending down till he’s eye level with me. “What is it? What’s going on?”

He looks wild-eyed at me, searching for what’s wrong, but I’m too worked up to respond. I make a motion to my throat, clawing at it. It’s like my body’s out of my control.

“Mia, you’re scaring me.” Though his voice is calm, the beginnings of panic stir in his eyes for just a moment until he shuts it down, his face expressionless.

Tears fall in hot splashes on my cheeks, but there’s nothing I can do about it as I still try to suck in air. I point to the biofeedback machine, hoping he gets the message to turn it on before our first participant shows up.

“You need me to do the biofeedback?”

I begin to shake my head to tell him no, that’s not what I meant, but his hands suddenly trailing down my arms stop me. His thumbs gently trace circles on the insides of my wrists, the pressure soothing.

“Close your eyes,” he says in that beautifully deep voice, “and take a deep breath. Focus on relaxing each muscle of your body and slowing your breaths. Inhale and exhale with me.” He counts to three steadily, bringing air in, then releases it on the same count of three.

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