**Highest Ranking : #1 in Chicklit**
[ A WATTPAD FEATURED STORY ]
Mabel Carter traveled half way across the country to attend college and get away from her dark past. After so many years she finally feels as though she's the one in control of her...
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Tall pine trees fly past us in the truck, and it's then that I realize we've left the city. They line the small two-lane road as far as I can see, their branches covered in November frost.
"Where are we going?" I ask, spinning the rings on my fingers nervously. The fidgeting doesn't do as much for my anxiety as it usually does, and I let out a defeated sigh.
"You'll see," Alex replies, but his cryptic answer does nothing for the ever growing knot in my stomach.
I still can't believe that he witnessed my meltdown. It's embarrassing enough that it happened in public in the first place, but why did he have to be there? My eyes feel sticky and puffy from all of the crying, but Alex didn't seem to care about any of that. He took my panic attack better than anyone before, even Hazel. Of course I love her, she's the closest thing I've had to a best friend in a long time, but she also got the brunt of my anxiety freshman year when we were roomed together. She learned to distance herself from me when I get too upset.
On most instances it takes close to a full half hour for me to completely calm down, but for some reason when Alex pressed me so close and wrapped me up so tightly in his arms, it helped. I was able to focus on his breathing and slowly level mine out to match his.
I decide that since he went through all of the trouble to calm me down, he at the very least deserves an explanation. I glance sideways at him, trying to read his expression. He seems at ease.
Alex is slouched in his seat with one hand on the steering wheel while his other arm lies on the headrest behind me. There's no better time than now. I'll be too tempted to run if it's not in a place that I can't leave, and I certainly can't jump out of a moving vehicle just to avoid talking about my past.
"I have really bad self-esteem issues," I blurt out, turning my head to the window to hide my face.
"Most women do, I've noticed," Alex responds cautiously.
Stupid. Now he probably thinks I'm just some girl who wants to be told she's pretty by everyone in order to feel better about herself. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's just not me. Compliments make me feel uneasy.
