At first, while walking the short distance from the elevator to their dorm, Cat easily kept the conversation on Cam and his new beau. She wasn’t all that concerned about it, really, but by feigning slight worry, Hannah readily continued the conversation topic and didn’t seem to want to switch to others...like, say, Peter.

“Has Cam been in love before?” Cat asked as she pushed open their dorm room door. A burst of cool air greeted them and attempted to shove them back into the hallway. “Fuck! Left the window open….” As they settled inside, shivering from their forgetfulness, Hannah still considered her question.

She didn’t answer until her shoes were off and she lay against her pillows, phone in hand.

“You know, I don’t know,” she said. “You sound really worried about it. What, is it the Spanish thing? Like you don’t think he’s actually in love or something?” After shutting the window, Cat managed to plug her phone in while it had two percent left, and let it set on her nightstand.

“It’s not up to me. But he just said it so easily…. I would…. I don’t know.” She settled into her desk chair and pressed her laptop to turn on, the fans roaring to life just as loud as their conversation. “I’d just be afraid of making it mean less, by saying it when I wasn’t sure.” Did that even make sense? Hannah’s laugh made it very clear she didn’t think so.

“What, like the Boy Who Cried Wolf? You say it so much, people stop believing you?”

Cat considered her words for a moment, then shrugged. “Or it doesn’t feel as strong. I don’t know.” She didn’t think her roommate would still find this funny. When she looked over, Hannah tapped away at her phone, but shook her head.

“The Boy Who Cried Wolf is a thing because there was never a wolf, you dummy.” She glanced up, still giggling. “I think you’re jealous.” Oh, no. She didn’t like where this was going. “Because Cam’s never had any problems telling people how he’s felt or where he stands, and while you normally don’t, your worlds just got all twisted, so now you don’t even know how you feel. And you’re jealous that Cam does, even though he turned out to be wrong in the first place.” Well, if her words didn’t feel like a cold gulp of ice running through her veins at that moment. Hannah had one last bite of sass for her: “Like, your feelings haven’t changed, only your perspective.” Cat twisted back to face her computer, unable to formulate the simplest thoughts to rebut what Hannah said. Thankfully, her roommate left it at that.

Therapy usually made Cat feel a lot better. Somehow, even just sitting in the waiting room brought a little bit of tranquility to her otherwise chaotic thoughts. Dr. Harvey was a really nice constant that just reminded Cat, “You’re not crazy. You’re human.” But now she sat in front of the doctor and her heart rate was just as high as it was during her first visit, when she had a panic attack without any prompting. Dr. Harvey was attempting to gently let Cat know that her free counseling sessions were coming to an end.

“I highly recommend this book, When Panic Attacks,” Dr. Harvey continued. She glanced to the overstuffed bookshelf behind her, searching for it. “I believe someone is borrowing it at the moment. But the library should have a copy. Or you can get your own. I believe they sell work books if you think those exercises may help you.”

“But what if it gets worse?” Cat asked. Her fingers picked at one another. “If--how do you know I’m going to be okay? What if, when I stop coming here, I feel like I did before?” In reality, Cat hadn’t thought about what would happen at all after therapy ended. She just...sort of figured it would keep happening. Dr. Harvey remained patient and sweet, though.

“Well, Catherine,” she stared with a small smile, “the road to healing is not a straight line. There’s a great chance you’ll have relapses in your anxiety or panic attacks at some point in the future, whether or not you continue professional treatment. That doesn’t mean the work you have done thus far wasn’t good enough. Think of it like...writing an essay.” She ignored Cat’s look of exasperation at first. “Not all subjects are easy to write about. Sometimes some drafts and outlines are easier than others. That doesn’t mean you’re not good at writing essays. I believe you said you’re quite good at them, aren’t you?”

Cat frowned. “Essays don’t make me feel like...this.” Like she would collapse into a tiny black hole at any moment.

Dr. Harvey sobered a bit more, seeming to understand how little her analogy helped. “My point is that you are doing everything right, even if you feel uncertain now.” Cat went to interrupt, but Dr. Harvey held up a hand. “And my point was that even if you feel some relapsing, it doesn’t undo what you’ve done. Your efforts will help make whatever you might go through easier to handle, but it won’t stop them from happening all together.”

The words bubbled to her lips before she even realized they were there: “But there are other students who get therapy longer. How is that fair?”

“If students wish to maintain therapy after the free sessions complete, they pay for them.” Dammit. Cat grit her teeth. “We can absolutely start the process to arrange that. I just want to make sure you have all the other resources as well.”

“How much per session?” she asked through a sigh. The odds of being able to afford that were...minimal.

Dr. Harvey glanced to her desk, then rose from her seat to approach the drawers. As she opened them, she started to pull out several sheets of paper from different file folders.

“I don’t have that information, but I have some resources to help you navigate with your insurance to try and get some or all of it covered. Not all insurances are willing to work out-of-network, but yours may.” After gathering half a dozen pieces of paper, she started grabbing a few more, colored pages that were a bit thicker, as well as a few brochures. “We are also not the only option around here, or at all.” After punching a staple through the small stack with a deep crunch, Dr. Harvey handed the stack to Cat and lowered herself to her chair. “In that packet, there are guidelines to speak to insurance, how to research nearby help, and a few trusted practices in the city.”

Cat flipped through the thick pages in her lap, hesitating on a page that listed some of Dr. Harvey’s favorite books and workbooks for cheaper or free aid. Would this even be enough? What if her insurance wouldn’t cover anything, and she got stuck like this, and nothing else helped, and she got worse? What if everything she did up until now would just...go away, leaving her a husk of a human with no will? When she looked up to Dr. Harvey, her expression must have looked a little pathetic. This packet felt little different from a Dear John letter.

Dr. Harvey sat a little further forward on her chair. “For this moment, this is our last session. But you aren’t being abandoned. Okay? In that packet are also a few reminder worksheets we’ve gone through, like Distorted Thinking and Breathing Techniques. I know you have those, but it’s always good to have an extra copy.” As Dr. Harvey maintained a small, pleasant smile, Cat stared at her, letting the stack of papers grow heavy on her lap. The pages flopped over her knee.

There was nothing for her to say. It took her so long to come to terms with even coming here in the first place, and now the school was kicking her out. What, because the tuition wasn’t high enough? Because dorm room rent wasn’t high enough, or text books didn’t cost an arm and a leg? They charged for parking on the campus, even. They charged for freshman tutoring! They sucked every possible dollar out of everyone and they couldn’t even afford to keep anyone sane?

Cat’s throat thickened when she swallowed and dropped her gaze.

“It took so much for me to come here and now….” She shook her head. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

“The school year is coming to an end soon. You’ll be home with family by the end of the month. Worst case scenario, come back next year when your free sessions reset and we can come back with a solid plan.” As if she needed to be reminded how little time she had left this year. Finals...friends...Peter….

With her heart in her throat, Cat finally nodded. “Okay,” she said, sighing. “Sounds like a plan.”

The goodbye with Dr. Harvey was a little bitter, despite how much she kept repeating “Look how far you’ve come,” and “You’ll be just fine.” Maybe she would be okay. Maybe her newfound panic attacks would be fewer and farther between, or she wouldn’t have any at all.

Despite the rough start to her day, the butterflies in Cat’s stomach kept her mood up. Hannah didn’t seem to notice--or if she did, she at least didn’t say anything. She’d anticipated at least a few more interrogations about what she was going to do with the Peter situation, but they never came. Maybe Hannah understood how difficult it was...or maybe she just had other things to worry about.

Lunch with the group felt like God pulled her nerves taut like a string.

“We should go to a movie tonight!” Hannah announced, glancing among the different members of the group. “Friday night! We should go out and hang together while we still can!”

“Yeah! There’s that new superhero movie that just came out--” Kelsey started while she looked at her phone. “I wanted to see it. Let me look up movie times.” Cam and Hannah burst into some sort of excited theories of what would happen; Cat, meanwhile, glanced at Peter. She tried not to look panicked.

“Um,” Peter interrupted, “tomorrow would be better for me. How about tomorrow?”

Cam’s gaze snapped to him. “Tomorrow? What’s wrong with tonight?” Uh. Uhhh…excuse, uh--

“Tomorrow’s better for me, too,” Cat said, shrugging. “Covering for Jeffrey tonight.” Hannah looked a millisecond away from giving her a look of confusion, before she added, “Or you can all go without me. That’s fine, too.”

“Oh, no!” Kelsey had none of it, to her relief. “Tomorrow’s fine. Actually, no, better. I’ve got an online quiz tonight, so, like, that’s better. Yeah.” Hannah seemed to forget her suspicions for at least the moment to hop on the “well, yeah, tomorrow is better” train.

“And you can invite Brad,” Cat added for extra measure. And, like a charm, Cameron decided that Brad was the best and only topic to talk about for the rest of lunch. And, thanks to her new excuse, Cat would be able to skip out later without any questions she couldn’t answer.

It made no sense that she was this nervous, that her hands literally shook, even while she walked to the parking lot. Did this count as a first date? They had others...even if they weren’t in person. And with the other night, everything being so out and the open….

Peter waited for her beside his stupid, douchey truck with a smile on his face.

“Look at you,” was the first thing he said when she walked up to him. Her cheeks burned.

“What about me?” she prompted, stepping up to him. It was a bit of a challenge; he didn’t like PDA, but he didn’t move back. He stared down at her, eyes twinkling.

“I don’t know, apparently I’ve got bad taste, so it’s probably more of a compliment if I say you look terrible.” She stepped on her tippy-toes to give him a kiss through her laughter. He kissed her back, but kept it short. She hummed at him.

“So what are we doing tonight?”

“I was thinking of two options: dinner then a movie, or dinner and a movie.” She shot him a quizzical look as he led her to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door for her. As she hopped in, he finally explained, “There’s a drive-in not that far away. Wasn’t sure if you were into that.” Oh!

“Never been to a drive-in before.” Peter rounded the front of the truck to get in, and shot her a grin.

“Then drive-in it is!” Even though it turned out that the only movie showing around the time they would get there was the new superhero one that Kelsey wanted to see tomorrow night. But after a quick drive-thru of Chinese food, they found a spot at the Drive In Theatre of Bay Area, and hopped in the back of the truck.

Peter planned carefully, it seemed. In the bed of his truck were a couple blankets and pillows to sit on, even some paper plates and utensils from the food commons at school. It did ease the butterflies in her stomach to watch him lay out everything perfectly, the way he fluffed the pillow for her to sit on, how he tucked the corner of the blanket perfectly against the wall of the truck, even how he set a paper towel under the bag of Chinese food. He’d been thinking about this as much as she did. And based on the fact that she never even saw his desk in his room nearly as neat as he placed everything tonight, he was nervous, too. Which was ridiculous, considering how much they’d been through together.

Cat settled next to him with her plate of food, legs crossed so that her knee touched his thigh, and looked up at him while he snapped his set of chopsticks in two.

“What date number is this? One or three?” Cat asked the minute he took a bite of his chicken. He laughed, chewing rapidly, before he asked, “What are you, a waitress? Asking a question right as I take a bite?” Cat beamed.

“I was just wondering,” she said, shrugging. “I mean...this is….” The words were supposed to come out easier than this. But now her throat closed up the more he watched her, waiting.

“Intense?” he finished. Perhaps that word fit the best. She shrugged.

“It’s been…it’s been a year.” She didn’t have to tell him twice. Everything she had gone through felt so tiny compared to him. Loss of a parent, loss of a family…. She watched him remember, his chopsticks paused over his food. His response boiled down to a slow nod, but by the way he hesitated, the way he didn’t move, kept a feeling of unfinished business in the air. They eventually finished eating in silence through the advertisements on the massive screen in front of them, all the way until the sun fully disappeared behind the screen and their takeout boxes were empty.

Cat leaned her head on Peter’s arm for a moment, until he pulled her into the crook under his shoulder, fully hugging her close. Words still danced on her tongue, though none of them were full and coherent. And snuggling into him, fully feeling his warmth, didn’t make the thoughts any easier to come by.

“This is really nice,” she eventually settled with saying. Peter agreed by planting a kiss on the side of her head, and pulled one of the blankets up to cover their laps. The sound from his radio speakers indicated the start of the previews: more superhero movies, coming out this summer. She didn’t care for them much, but Peter mumbled something about being curious about the second one that came on.

Summer…. Summer break was less than a month away, and everything would change again. Things were already changing. She couldn’t even go to therapy anymore. Couldn’t find relief for the anxiety. What if, when she went home, everything returned? What if she felt like a zombie again, and left all of her feelings here? What if these moments with Peter were some of the final moments she’d ever have where she felt something good, let alone anything?

The rest of the previews zoomed by unremarkably, like a high-pitched ring in her ears, faster than her heartbeat and without any variation from the pulsating in her limbs. Everything was the same, explosion here, intense music, random “eye-catching” words. Everything bright and overwhelming and loud to the point the truck vibrated. It wasn’t until the opening credits of the movie they paid to see that the rhythm changed, that she noticed Peter rubbed her arm in time to something that didn’t match the music. One, two, three, four….

All of that turbulence from what she thought was the sound system turned out to be originating from her. Cat sucked in a breath, finally, realizing she could change the pace at which she did so. She rubbed her eyes, careful to avoid smudging her makeup, and silently thanked God that she didn’t cry this time. Where did this come from? A freaking anxiety attack? When sitting and watching a stupid movie?

“Are you okay?” Peter asked in her ear. His warm breath sent a shiver down her spine. Comfort. Warmth. She blinked.

“Y-yeah,” she sounded. Though now every limb quivered like she just ran the fastest mile in her life, and she had nothing to show for it. Now that she was acutely aware of every little thing, she couldn’t even remember the titles of the movies that just flashed before her.

Peter didn’t seem to mind that she distracted him from the opening scene.

“Do you want to talk about it or be distracted from it?” Cat sighed and closed her eyes a moment; his heart beat in her ear, his warmth radiating through his t-shirt. How did he even know what was going on, if she didn’t?

“I had my last…. I had my last counseling appointment today,” she explained quickly. Despite the fact that he had every right to be smug about it, Peter didn’t say a word. He didn’t even move. “I guess I was just...feeling time pass.”

“You can continue it, if you’re worried,” was his answer. She shrugged.

“I don’t think that’s an option for me.” She tried to sound like she was finished talking, but Peter shifted and forced her to sit up a bit more, to look at him. Despite her attempt at gesturing to the screen, he ignored the subtitles indicating some important, foreign conversation that would come up later in the movie.

“I’m uninsured and I pay fifty bucks an appointment.” Ouch, no. Definitely not an option at the moment. Cat shook her head.

“It’s dumb, right?” She tried to make it a joke, tried to smile. He didn’t seem to find it funny, and she was out of breath. Peter’s other hand found hers, and he laced their fingers together. Somehow, it made her heart slow down. Maybe for now, at least until the summer, she’d be okay. Peter seemed to be an expert in...this. He could help her figure it out for now. Cat stared at their fingers and frowned. “What are...what are your plans for the summer?” All these worries about returning home and not being here...but what were his options? He didn’t have a home anymore.

Peter sighed. “Well, the summer semester starts a week after this one ends, so...I guess just more school. I was going to try and get another job, too, to try and build up a savings. I have a lighter class load.” Cat blinked. More school? No breaks? She remembered when the thought of that wasn’t exhausting. Before last year, she’d never had a break...and now, she could hardly find her three day weekends enough rest.

“You’re staying here,” she summarized. He just nodded, unbothered, but waited for her reply. The colors of the bright superhero costumes reflected on his face, the reds and oranges intensifying the sunset the movie screen hid. Cat sighed. All these worries...every fear she felt, he had to deal with tenfold. Boo-hoo, she had to go home to her family. Oh, darn, she had to take a break from her education and just work through it all. But Peter would be left here, alone….

“What?” He watched her distress with curiosity.

“Do you think you’ll get much time off?” While she thought of whether or not she could swing getting a couple days off here and there, he seemed confident in his nod.

“I think I can take some time off, drive up and visit you sometimes,” he answered. His dimples made her smile.

“That doesn’t freak you out?” She squinted at him. “Thinking that far ahead?” Peter furrowed his brows, seemingly amused.

“It’s not like plans can be cancelled or anything,” he said sarcastically. Her heart skipped a beat. “And--I like thinking that maybe things will...continue like this. We did long-distance for a while, and that worked out. And this is objectively better than that, so….” She awarded him a courtesy laugh, then snuggled back into his shoulder with a sigh. Well, if he didn’t mind, it certainly made her feel a little more stabilized. Maybe he could indulge her fantasies a little more.

She continued, “It might be hard for me to ask for time off, but--but maybe if I work enough doubles, I can stop working early, maybe come down in mid-August instead of September.” That was, if Cheryl was still manager at Sippy Cup Cafe. Cheryl was the only manager that ever gave her extra hours.

Peter’s curiosity returned. “Why...specifically mid-August?” Was he stupid?

“For your birthday...and….” She hated watching him remember what else happened in August. The loss, the pain. “Your dad’s…. I don’t want you to be alone then, either.” Peter studied her, seemingly surprised.

“I--I don’t think I told you when he died,” was his weird answer. She raised a brow.

“Um, no...but...I saw the time stamp of your picture with him--from Dia de Muertos.” Well, now she kind of felt like a stalker. But she continued, dropping her gaze, “and orientation was late-August, and you were already a dick by then, and I think you said something about being off because of him dying at that time, so I thought....” And before he could think she was a creep, she looked up and added, “And you told me your birthday. Well--I mean, you told Insultcatapult your birthday. So I’m not a complete stalker, okay!”

Peter’s gaze was soft as he shook his head at her. He muttered something so quiet she could hardly hear him over the music from the movie. She strained to hear him, leaning forward, only to hear the last bit, “...bendición de Dios."

“What?” What was he saying about God? It sounded almost like some sort of prayer. But Peter responded only by cupping her cheeks in his hands, pulling her into a gentle, though unexpected, kiss. Underneath the confusion, his tenderness sang through, like he was thanking her for something she’d never understand. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers, holding her close as if she would drift away any moment. Her breath took its time to return, but she held his hands on her face, keeping the air tight and hot.

“I didn’t hear what you said,” she admitted, her eyes still closed. Peter kissed her again.

“You just….” When he sighed, she pulled away to look in his eyes. “When you look at me, it feels like you actually see me.” Her thumb mindlessly rubbed against his as she considered his words. “Even when you’re not looking at me, you still see me.” He brought forth words she didn’t know she was missing. That pull, the tug in her chest whenever he was around. Maybe he felt it like that, too. Everything always existed before now, of course. But ever since that rope pulled at her heart, it felt as if everything happened more vibrantly.

Cat sighed and eventually let his hands drift away from her face, but still held them with hers. Any time the fear of this uncharted territory came up, he stood right there, unknowingly comforting her. It wasn’t so scary standing on a cliff with him holding her hand. And while her heart jumped to her throat, while her blood pulsed through her veins faster than she could handle, Cat nodded to him. She definitely knew what he meant about being seen.

“Well,” she said instead, cracking a smile, “you’re easy on the eyes.” The light in his gaze dulled just a little; he still looked at her, though now with a noticeable dejection.

“That’s….” The weight of the air pulled his gaze to their hands in her lap. “That’s not really what I meant.” She squeezed his hands, hoping to catch his attention.

“I know what you meant,” she added with a peck on his lips. He glanced at her gently, and gestured to the screen, as if silently releasing her from the moment. Cat cuddled into his side fully, leaning to where she nearly lay upon him, and pulled the blanket to cover them from the cooling air of twilight.

Vibrant, intense…comfortable. Safe. Warm. A gift from God, she recalled hearing him say. Even though a rather well-choreographed fight scene played out in front of her eyes, Cat couldn’t find herself to pay attention. All of it was so dull compared to what played out in the bed of a douchey truck.

It was maybe an hour later, when the superhero’s mentor turned out to be working for the villain all along, when a quiet thought entered Cat’s mind. She listened to Peter’s heart without much effort, though found it the easiest thing to listen to, even over a relatively captivating soundtrack. This comfort, this contentment that only grew every moment she spent with him and showed no signs of slowing: maybe she didn’t know what it was before. Maybe she couldn’t bring herself to put a word to it.

But now, if she played Never Have You Ever with Peter and he drunkenly accused her of never knowing love before, she would confidently dump her drink on his head.

There was no way someone could feel like this, and it not be love. She was sure of it now.