Page 69 of The Hookup Situation

When I get home that night I crawl into bed, feeling more confused and scared than I was three weeks ago.

My phone buzzes and I see it’s a text from Rory.

Rory: Hey, you okay?

I don’t respond.

I spend most of Saturday alone in my apartment after my roommates are gone. No matter what I do I can’t get Preston off my mind or his words out of my head. I want to believe him so badly, but I’m so fucking terrified.

I wrestle with my thoughts all day Sunday, too, until I find myself lying in bed, sobbing, my heart warring with the desire and love and utter need I feel for this man and yet wanting so desperately to protect itself at the same time.

He told me I was it for him. But will he still feel that way in a couple of months, or a year, or three, when I’m still struggling with so much self-doubt and insecurity, always needing reassurance that he’s not going anywhere, and that he loves me as much as I love him?

Rory texts me again on Sunday night as I’m curled up on the sofa after crying myself to sleep earlier and then waking up and having a very meager dinner. Neither of my friends knows I’m alone. My roommates don’t either since I told them I would be leaving after they did.

Rory: You okay? I’m worried about you. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to but I’m here if you need someone to talk to.

It takes me a moment to form a reply, but eventually I respond.

Me: Hey, babe. I know I’ve been acting weird lately, sorry. I honestly am not the best right now but I will be okay. I’m not ready to share yet, but I promise I will when I’ve figured things out more. Don’t worry about me. Have a good Christmas. Love you.Kissy face emoji.

Rory: love you too

Monday morning starts out okay. I go for a run to try and clear my head, then strip and step into the shower when I get home.

It’s while I’m showering that the tears come again, streaking my cheeks, my chest heaving. I sob until I’m shaking and gasping for air, my skin feeling tight and nausea settling in my stomach.

Shit. I’m having another panic attack, and this time I’m alone. I’m shaking even harder and my breaths are ragged as my heart rate skyrockets and I start to feel lightheaded. I sink to my knees in the shower, not wanting to fall over, and push open the glass door before I crawl out, soaking wet and trembling.

I grab my phone on the bathroom counter and speed dial as I lie down on the cold tile. It actually helps ground me a tiny bit as I wait.

It doesn’t take long before I hear, “Hey, babe, what’s up?”

I barely get the words out. “Luc?” I’m shaking so hard, gasping.

“Jackson? Honey what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I try to speak but it’s not working. “I….can’t…”

“Oh, god, babe, what’s wrong?”

“Panic….attack….” I manage.

“Oh, hon, you’re okay,” she tells me. “You’re okay. Listen, I'm on my way. I’m gonna keep you on the phone while I drive. Breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths, in and out. You got this.”

I hear a car starting and then she’s talking again. “Keep breathing. You’re safe. You’re okay. You got this.” She takes a few breaths with me and it helps me steady myself a little, my heart rate lowering and my trembling subsiding as she talks tome. “I want you to count backwards from fifty,” she tells me. “It can help to distract yourself.”

I start counting out loud, my breaths steadying as I do.

“Good,” she says. “I’m about an hour away, hon, but I won’t hang up.”

And she doesn’t. Not while I’m counting, not while I’m crying. I get up at one point, on shaky legs and make my way to Colby’s room after she encourages me to focus on things to ground myself using my senses, and I remember the sour patch kids. I grab a few from the bag on his nightstand and shove them in my mouth as I breathe, and wait.

I tell her I’m doing a little better, and I’m gonna lie down in bed while I wait for her. I put the phone down so I can slide into some silky black panties. But then I’m sobbing again because they make me think of Preston, and how enamoured he was every time he saw my panties on me. How he loved to touch me in them, how he loved me riding him while I wore them.

“Okay, I’m here,” Lucy tells me. Then a second later, “I’m coming inside. I’m gonna hang up now.”

A second later she’s in my room, climbing into the bed beside me, scooting close and taking me in her arms.

---