My thoughts fade to dull background noise asSpell It Outby You Me At Six plays on my AirPods, and I tap on my thighs to the beat while I wait in line for coffee. It's weird not seeing Connor at his normal post, but I place my order once I reach the front and wait patiently, trying not to come off as a weird, awkward potato with this girl like I did with Connor on my first day here.
Once my coffee is in my hands, I make a slow walk toward where I left the car this morning, pausing when I see that flash of blond again. It has to be a coincidence or my eyes playing tricks on me because Iris is dead, and the person I saw was definitely a dude.
It's not like she’d be here on campus even if she were alive, but something inside of me tells me to move, to chase that blond head down, so I pick up my pace and move in the direction that my hallucination leads me as the blond moves farther and farther away, despite me trying to walk faster.
It's times like this I think maybe I should start working out with the guys, but even this isn't enough to make me want to run at 5 a.m. every morning.
The blond turns and I frown, blinking to try and see in the distance.
There's no way that can be who I think it is, there's no reason for him to be here.
I blink again, trying to find the face in the crowd, but it's gone.
That doesn't stop the fear in my heart.
I try to suck in a breath, but it's like my lungs have stopped working. My hands are shaking, and I can't even really feel them, despite one being clutched around my very hot coffee.
My feet start to go numb and the world starts to turn fuzzy at the edges of my vision. I crouch down into a ball, not caring that there are a thousand people milling around me, and try to make my lungs start working again.
This can't be happening.
I escaped him once, there's no way he’s going to come back and want me now, surely.
I'm already dealing with so much, I'm not sure that I can deal with this on top of it all.
The sounds around me are warped, like I’m being held under water, and it's not until I feel someone lifting me from the ground that things start to come back into focus.
Travis looks down at me as he holds me against his chest, but I'm powerless to move or do anything as the panic attack grips me in its vise-like hold.
It's hard to pay attention to anything but the sound of his heart and the bounds of his steps as I lie against him, and he walks me through the crowd of people trying to escape campus as quickly as possible.
I try to focus on my breathing, trying to bring my heart rate in line with his, attempting to use him as my anchor to pull myself back to reality.
But all I can see every time I close my eyes is that face, that flash of blond, and it takes me back to being twelve years old and absolutely terrified.
The man who fathered my little sister shouldn't elicit such fear in me, but he is the only man who stuck around for a reasonable amount of time in our lives other than my dad, and the things that he tried to do will haunt me forever.
If he's here, then I have to go. There is no way I can stay here. Even a thousand miles between us isn't even close to enough.
Before I know it, the sounds around us have disappeared and Travis has me sitting on the ground, leaning me against a tree as he crouches in front of me.
His finger underneath my chin lifts my gaze up to his. "Just breathe in and out with me."
He keeps his eyes focused on me and walks me through breathing, as if he actually knows how to deal with the insanity that are my anxiety attacks.
I try not to overthink it and focus on pulling myself away from the hole I'm very much teetering on the edge of. After a few minutes of following his breathing and his eyes never leaving mine, my vision finally starts to refocus and it feels like my lungs inflate fully again. Sounds come back to normal, almost a little too loud, but fear still strikes through me.
He can't be here.
That isn't possible.
"Are you feeling better?" Travis asks, still not letting me move my gaze from his.
It’s as if his eyes are almost penetrating my soul to get the answers that I don't want to tell him.
"I think so," I say quietly. "Sorry that you had to deal with me like that."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Briar. Everybody needs help sometimes. Are you going to tell me what triggered you?"