I’m not good at this—being in public, peopling. That’s Lexi, she’s the life of the party. And I’m good at standing behind her.
“Hey,” Chase says to get my attention. “You okay?” He has his arms wrapped around my waist, and we’re swaying to the music. He’s so confident in everything he does. So good at fitting in.
When I don’t answer quickly enough, he pulls me off the dance floor and over to a small, darker corner away from everyone. “Georgia, what’s wrong?” he asks. “Your heart…” He presses his palm to my chest. “It’s beating so hard.”
That’s because I’m in the middle of a panic attack. Because I’m a freaking loser and can’t handle being in crowded places.
I try to open my mouth to explain, but I can’t speak. I’m too worked up. From the outside, I look like a normal woman standing close to a man, but on the inside, my heart is thumping in my throat. It’s hard to catch my breath. Tears are burning behind my lids. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself down, but it only makes it worse when memories from when I was younger surface, like they always do. Of my biological father yelling at me and throwing me in my room because I was crying for my mom. Of me being forced to stay there for days, by myself, all alone. Begging my grandmother to let me out while he was at work. I didn’t know where my mom was at the time, but I knew she wasn’t there with me.
I was little, too little. I shouldn’t even remember what happened, but I do. I used to think they were nightmares, but the older I got, the more I realized they were memories. Memories I’ve never told anyone about—not even Lexi.
“Shit, Georgia, you’re shaking,” Chase says, rubbing his palms up and down my arms.
“I need…” I croak out. “I need to leave.”
I take off running through the crowded club in search of the entrance. I don’t stop until I push the door open and fall outside, gulping down pockets of air, finally able to breathe a little easier.
Jesus, I’m so messed up. I need to grow the hell up. I’m almost twenty-two, for God’s sake. My biological father is dead, and I’ve been safe and loved for years. Tristan, the man who adopted me—and is my dad in every way that counts—and my mom love me more than anything. I’ve lived a life most dream of. I should be normal—like Lexi.
But I’m not.
“Georgia!” Chase yells, catching up to me. “What the hell happened back there?”
Not wanting to embarrass myself any further, I shrug. “I’m not feeling well.”
“Bullshit,” he hisses. “I felt your heart. You were shaking and—”
“Can you just drop it?” I snap. “I never should’ve come here.”
Chase steps closer to me. “You were having a panic attack. Being in that club, with all those people…” His hazel eyes lock with mine as the pieces fall into place. “That’s why you don’t go out and stay in your room all the time…”
“Yeah, I’m weird. I’m going to catch a cab home. You should stay and have a good time.” I turn to leave, but Chase grabs my forearm, stopping me.
“You’re not weird. You have social anxiety. Have you talked to anyone about it?”
No because that would mean telling my family…
I shake my head. “I’m okay now. Really, you should go back in. I’m sorry for ruining your night. At least next time you’ll know better than to invite me,” I half-joke.
Chase doesn’t laugh. “You didn’t ruin anything.” He flags down a cab and opens the door for me. I slide in, and then he gets in as well.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m not sending you home alone,” he scoffs. “It’s fine.”
The ride home is quiet. When we get up to our place, which is on the second floor, we go our separate ways. I take a quick shower, then get dressed in a tank top and sweats.
I’m standing in the kitchen, getting a drink of water and checking my phone, when Chase walks in. He’s dressed in black basketball shorts sans shirt. My eyes trail down his body. He works out almost every day, and his muscular body is proof of that. His skin is tattoo free, with only a light spattering of hair across his hard chest. His six-pack abs look almost airbrushed on. And the V that disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts… Jesus. My hand tingles, wanting to run my fingers down them to make sure they’re real.
Chase clears his throat, and my eyes pop up to meet his, which are dancing with laughter because he just caught me blatantly checking him out. His chocolate brown hair is wet and messy from his shower, and a few droplets of water drip down his temple.