The cuddle buddy code

1

Today was the day. Therapy. I don't need it. Mom says I do. I wore a loose beige sweater a baby blue crop top and beige shorts. I already looked like a mental patient. My straight, dark and usually un frizzy hair was teased and wild. My skin was pale and I looked like you could snap me I was so thin. I was sitting in the waiting room, knees tucked to my chest, surrounded by people. I glanced away from the window I was staring out of, there was a woman, rocking back and fourth in her seat. A man was sitting with his hand in his pants. Oh I forgot to mention that this wasn't just any therapy, this was phsyco therapy.

"Bexley? Bexley Pennington?" I looked over at the woman calling my name. It was my time to go in. I stood, careful not to make eye contact with the other patients. I walked around the small, round coffee table that had every type of magazine on it. "Follow me please." The woman closed the Manila folder that had my information. She lead me down a long, thin hallway to the very end. She opened the door to reveal a small, musty, masculine room. "Just take a seat on the couch, Dr. Turow will be here in just a moment." I walked over in the faux-leather couch. I stared out the window. Soon enough a tall, dark man walked in and sat in the padded chair across from me. His skin reminded me of chocolate.

"Ms. Pennington, I understand your mother sent you here due to your recent anxiety problems which have resulted in you not eating anymore." His voice was warm and heavy. "Do you know what causes this anxiety?" I looked him straight in the eyes.

"If I knew what had caused it I wouldn't be here right now." I pulled my gaze away, staring out the window. He didn't say anything, he just studied me.

"Bexley, are you nervous right now?" He leaned back in his chair, resting his right ankle on his left knee.

"I'm terrified!" I shouted, "my mother dropped me off in this shitty place, without my phone and never even said if she was coming back! Who does that?" I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Ms. Pennington-" he began.

"That's my mother. I'm not ms. Pennington. I'm Bexley. Nothing less nothing more." I snapped, interrupting him.

"Bexley, is there anyone you feel safe around? Someone who you can spend time with when you feel upset?" He looked into my blue eyes with his brown ones. I thought for a minute, twiddling my thumbs.

"My neighbor Nixon." I smiled shyly. "But I don't think he likes my very much. He says he can never hang out because he was busy watching something. Or I was walking to school and he was washing his car and had sprayed my with the hose." Dr. Turow thought for a minute.

"How old is he?" He asked.

"A year older than me. So... 16." I answered. He was a junior and I was a sophomore.

"You know what Bexley? Next time you feel an attack coming on. I want you to go over to his house and hang out with him." He looked satisfied. "Since this weeks session is over, this will be homework for you." I sighed nodding and standing up. I followed him out and left the therapists. I didn't know where I was or how to get home. But I started walking anyways. I played a little game with myself. Turn left till you can't anymore. I do this often. Mom leaves me places all the time and I eventually find my way home. It took hours last time but I made it. A black Toyota pulled up beside me. The window rolled down to reveille Nixon.

"Hey fidget, need a ride home?" He called out the window, rolling along at the same speed at me.

"My names not fidget." I snapped, "it's Bexley."

"Just get in the truck." He rested his elbow on the window.

"Fine." I jogged around the back and hopped in. I thought about what Dr. Turow had said, "hey Nixon, want to go back to the old flooded quarry?" Then the walls closed in. My chest was tight. A large lump grew in my trachea, forcing me to be unable to breathe. A tingle ran down my arms, making them soar. Not now, not here, not I front of Nixon, he doesn't know yet. I took a deep breath, trying to force the lump down. It didn't go away so I sucked in air threw my mouth, nothing. My lungs were filling but it felt like if I stopped trying, I would stop breathing. I gripped the window "sill" tightly.

"Hey, you okay Bex?" He glanced at me every now and then, trying not to keep them off the road too long. My throat seemed to tighten even more. He noticed. "Bex, what's wrong? Is everything alright?" A wave of soar ran through my arms. He grabbed one of my hands with his as we pulled into his driveway. My breath hitched and I freaked. I sobbed the best I could. It felt like I couldn't breathe at all. Next thing I knew I was in Nixon's arms. He was carrying me bridal style. His shaggy dark brown hair and brown eyes were like home. I buried my fave in his chest, taking in his scent. He was quite attractive. Strong, but not too strong. Tall, but not too tall. Popular, and never talked to me in public.

"What the bloody hell are you doing with my daughter!" I heard my mom call from our yard, her British accent thick. It would have been attractive if she wasn't such a deadbeat drunk.

"Doing what you can't!" Nixon called back. His chest vibrated as he spoke.

"And what's that?" My mother replied. Nixon shifted me onto his hip like I was a kid. He opened the door.

"Taking care of your daughter." He shouted back. He stepped inside and instantly began walking upstairs with me. Then I was in his room. Then I was in his bed, cuddling. Then we made the rules.

1) no kissing
2) come whenever it happens
3) no one knows
4) never go in the attic
5) never be afraid to ask for a ride
&
6) no falling in love

The last one I made for myself. The last one, he would never know about.