Page 74 of Ward Willing
The LSATs.
UCLA Law School.
Being a lawyer.
I’m hyperventilating as I push the double doors of the building open, and before I can look for him, Liam is there, gripping my arms.
“Zoe,” he says, but it sounds like he’s speaking to me from the other side of a tunnel.
I slide down the side of the building and put my face in my hands as I attempt to take steadying breaths, but it doesn’t work.
Suddenly, Liam is crouching in front of me, and his large, warm hands are cupping my face gently.
“In for ten, out for ten,” he murmurs.
I do as he says, inhaling for ten seconds before slowly exhaling. My racing heart begins to calm as I wipe my sweaty palms on my leggings. My whole body is trembling, and as I repeat the breathing, I finally let myself open my eyes and look up at Liam.
“Sorry—th-thank you—” I stutter.
“Let’s go grab something to eat.”
* * *
I don’t know how he does it, but by the time we arrive in the student social lounge–which, fortunately for us, is open on a Saturday morning, I’m almost back to normal. My heart isn’t racing anymore, and I’m no longer shaking, thanks to the fact that Liam pulled my arms through his flannel shirt and buttoned it up for me.
I have to roll the sleeves five times to get them to my elbows.
He finds us a table by a large window before he walks off, stating he’s going to order us some breakfast burritos from one of the food places.
I sit down as everything comes crashing back to me.
Did I seriously walk out of the LSAT?
I don’t have long to consider my chaotic energy, however, because soon Liam is back with a tray containing two massive burritos.
“Thank you. For helping me. I don’t know what happened in there.”
Liam doesn’t touch his food, and when I look up at him, his brows are pinched with worry. “Have you always had anxiety, or is it a new thing?”
I huff a laugh. “Who doesn’t have anxiety?” When he doesn’t smile, I sigh and lean back against the hard, plastic chair. “I started getting anxiety attacks when I was little. They didn’t happen often enough for medication, but I hold things in, and sometimes they come out like…like—” I gesture wildly to myself. “So no. It’s not a new thing.”
He considers my words for a minute before speaking. “Is it because of what I said?” he asks.
“Not really. Sort of. I don’t know.” I take a bite and look out of the window. When I finish, I look down at my lap, where my hand with the ring is resting. “In my fantasy book, my two main characters are Lily and Ethan. Well, and the demon, but I’m still not sure what to do with him,” I add. “Anyway, everything you said was sort of rolling around in my mind when I sat down and began the test, and you’ll never guess what two names popped up in the first section. It wasliterallythe first sentence of the test.”
“Lily and Ethan?” Liam offers, smirking.
I nod. “And I guess I sort of… panicked.”
Had an existential crisis is more like it. Semantics.
Liam leans forward and clasps his hands together. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt that’s entirely too tight to be decent, and I notice a few of the college-aged girls gawking in his direction.
“I have panic attacks too,” he says slowly.
“Is that why you take medicine?” I blurt.
His lips quirk to the side. “Panic disorder and depression.”
