Page 29 of Calculated Chaos

With ten minutes left, I cave and dial Axel to talk me down. The phone rings several times and panic sets in, increasing my heart rate and body temperature. Just before a full-on spiral takes over, he answers.

“Hey, Holl. You okay?”

Blowing out a breath, I rub my forehead. “No. I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Okay, let’s start with a deep breath. Count to three.”

Closing my eyes, I listen to his voice as he softly reminds me to breathe. Once the panic subsides, I open my eyes. “Fuck.”

“You okay?”

“No. I can’t do this. I can’t defy him.”

“Hey”—Axel’s voice cuts through my racing thoughts—“you already did it. You don’t have to push yourself so hard. You can take small steps.”

“Small steps?”

“Yeah. Like, you said you were gonna wait until five, but the deadline is noon, right?”

“Right.”

“And noon is in…” He pauses. “Six minutes. What would feel good to you right now, Holl?”

I sit with his question, letting it bounce around in my head until something makes sense, but I’m torn. “There’s a part of me that really wants to just send it now and be a good boy.” I choke on the words. “Um, not a boy. A manager. I want to do the right thing, but…” I blow out a breath. “Fuck.”

“Hollister. Tell me what the other part of you wants.”

“I want to be bad, Ax.” My eyes go wide. Where did those words even come from? “I want to defy him.”

“Okay. Can you do that in a way that feels good for you?”

My eyes focus on the time. Three minutes left. “What if… um…” Swallowing hard, I nod as the idea settles over me. “What if I do it five minutes after twelve? So it’s late, but it’s not debilitating. He might not even notice right away, but I will.”

“Yeah, that sounds really good. Want me to sit here with you?”

“Can you? You’re probably doing something but—”

“Hey,” he interrupts. “I’m never too busy for you. You know that.”

“Thank you.” I blow out a shaky breath. “What were you doing?”

“Taking a shower. Just got back from the gym. Leg day.”

I laugh softly. “I admire your dedication.”

“Nothing else to do but maintain this body of mine.”

And then that body of his flits through my mind. More than once I’ve caught myself staring at him. When we swam or changed clothes in the gym back in high school. He was never shy about his body—I mean, why would he be, looking like that?—but I tried to hide mine. Especially when girls were around. I’m lucky enough to have a naturally good metabolism, but my muscle tone is at zero.

“No desk body for you,” I say, practically choking on my words. My throat is so dry I swear I could spit sand right now.

“You better not say anything negative about yourself. You know I don’t like that, Holl. You have your positives too.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I look at the clock. “Oh god. It’s noon.”

“You got this. What are you gonna do the rest of the day?”

“Um… vomit, maybe?”

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