Lexie craves solitude. Men, in her experience, are unpredictable - a whirlwind of chaos and manipulation. Her carefully constructed isolation keeps her college life drama-free, exactly how she likes it. But everything changes when a charmingly persi...
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Ever heard of a panic attack? What it does, what it means and what to do if it triggers your nerves?
Me, neither.
And I think I'm starting to have one. My perfectly well scheduled semester isn't in any way going as planned. And I guess I'm having a panic attack for that.
But another thing that's worrying me is, I don't know what's wrong with him. His trembling hand can't seem to find whatever he's looking for.
If you had asked me sometime back, I'd be happy that he was vulnerable. But the flickering of my eyes and dryness of my mouth tells me otherwise. I needed to do something.
Snatching the bag from him, I start searching for whatever the thing I've never seen before. Is it an injection? Or maybe some tablets?
My hand sifted through the various compartments, each zip a frantic drumbeat against my rising panic. Was it an injection? Needles weren't exactly my forte. But the tremor in his hand, the way his breath hitched... something was terribly wrong. Relief washed over me as my fingers brushed against a smooth, cylindrical object. An inhaler.
A simple explanation, yet a knot of worry remained in my stomach. What did he need an inhaler for? Asthma? Allergies? The questions swirled in my head but stopped the moment I straightened his upper body. Rubbing circles on his mid-back, he grips the inhaler breathing in hitches while slowly making a recovery.
"Should I call the schools nurse?" my question lenders quietly.
The vigorous shaking of his head warns me not to. But another question strikes, who in their normal senses would refuse to go to the nurses office?
"Fine, some water then?"
To that he nods slowly and that signals me to hand him over my bottle of water. Apparently, he's snatching alot of things from me lately.
He gulps down the water, leaning back to at least recover- I guess. The lecture buzzes in and silence takes over drawing all attention to the papers he was carrying.
My eyes dawn on Asante and as if our eyes were communicating he sends me a reassuring look. The papers assigned to us spread like fire as everyone engulfs them in their hand.
"So, what I need you to do is bring me one design. Draw the final piece of design on the plain paper assigned to you. Be serious as this will contribute 5 percent to your end of semester's exams."
The not-so silent class begins its work as I nervously think of starting it on my own. Or maybe-but no, he is not that okay to stretch his mind.
"W-hat do we need to design?" he asks.
Fear? Relief? What's it? The thumping of my chest is lendering me speechless.
"I think you should relax a little bit and pretend to be saying some sweet nothings while I work with it." I sound sweet, not like I had planned though.
