When my heart won't beat at a normal pace but instead chooses to slam into my ribcage like a frantic bird wearing football gear, I hold my breath. I hold it until the fight leaves my heart and it tires itself out. But the problem with doing that is as soon as you let out the air, everyone around you knows something is wrong. The loud sound comes across like a balloon deflating in a dramatic fashion. 

So as Tate settled the car onto the freeway, I tried to casually let out an uneasy breath and was rewarded with two sets of eyes staring at me. 

"You okay back there?" Tate asked, voicing both of their concerns. I was sure Aiden was relieved to have Tate around, it meant his cousin could do all the heavy lifting in holding up a conversation with me. This must be like Christmas morning for him.

"Earth to Laliana?" Tate asked, pulling me back to the present. "You okay?" 

Nope. Not at all. I was on the verge of another spiral. I was about to go sign a contract to have a world that had only been real in my head come to life in movie form. Yes, it was exciting, but it was terrifying and scary. And it made me want to crawl in bed and take a nap. But would saying all that out loud make me sound crazy?

"I'm fine," I lied with great difficulty and most likely terribly. 

Aiden snorted. Yep, didn't fool anyone.

"Okay, fine. I'm a little shocked. Didn't expect everyone else to know about a movie deal before I did. 

I watched Aiden and Tate look at each other and then back at me. "Sanders didn't tell you?" Aiden asked, his brow arching upward. 

I began to tug on a strand of hair self-consciously. "Well, she told me that a few studios were waiting to see how the third book did and then they may make an offer... but the book came out yesterday, so I thought it would take more time."

Tate yawned rubbing at his eyes fiercely. "Well, no wonder you look like you are about to pass out."

Understatement. I feel like I am going to die of a panic attack.

"What time am I supposed to be at the studio?" I asked. 

Aiden checked his phone. "A few hours from now." 

My fingers itched to get out of the car. I needed fresh air. I needed to think. I had no interest in showing up to the studio early. "Let's drop Tate off at his house."

Tate shook his head, yawning again. "I'm fine. You need to get to the studio."

I waved my hand dismissively. "We have time. Besides, you said so yourself, it's the middle of the night for you. And you are driving us around, half-asleep in LA traffic. Not the best way to keep someone safe."

"Fine!" Tate relented. "I'll go back home and sleep. For the greater good." 

Aiden smiled against his better judgment. "Any excuse for a nap," he muttered. 

"Better to sleep a lot than to pretend you don't need sleep," Tate snapped at Aiden.

Aiden glanced at me. "Yeah, let's get him home. He's just going to get mad if he doesn't sleep."

"I can hear you!" Tate growled. 

I snickered. "Yeah, it's nap time for sure." 

"You guys suck," Tate mumbled. 

"Whatever you say," Aiden replied with a small grin.

...

After a cranky twenty-minute drive which led to Tate transforming into a smaller, less terrifying version of Aiden, he slunk out of the car, and shuffled into his apartment complex, with a weak wave of goodbye and a loud yawn.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Aiden tapped the wheel thoughtfully as I climbed into the seat next to his. "Where to?" he asked, calming me with the steadiness in his tone.

I rolled down the window, assessing the temperature. The sun was warm on my hand as I lifted it out the window, wrapping around my skin in a soothing embrace. The breeze was light and cool making me smile. I knew where I needed to be and the weather was perfect for it.

"Santa Monica Pier," I answered. It was my home away from home. It was where I went when I needed to think or people watch, or both. "Do we have time?" I asked looking over at Aiden. 

He nodded, starting the car and revving the engine, making it growl with power. "I'll drive fast." 

We bolted forward, the car sliding onto the freeway with ease. He made Los Angeles traffic look effortless. I wished I had that ability. But I was an angry, wild driver. A hurricane, howling into the abyss when things were in my way. I was terrifying to others and myself. 

But Aiden was the exact opposite. Calm, controlled and moving in and out of traffic like water, unbothered as it raced down a creek. I tilted my head out the window, allowing the wind to work its way into my hair and send it flying around my face like an evil villain in the middle of a transformation sequence. 

The car moved from the 101 to the 405, tilting in the direction of the ocean. The sea breeze filled the car, sparking memories of easy days filled with sun and surf. "I swear my life isn't normally this crazy," I said into the wind. 

"I know," Aiden replied into the quiet car. 

And for once, the silence that followed didn't bother me. The world had grown loud, and for a brief moment, I needed a safe quiet place to hide from the noise. 

I spotted the large Ferris wheel on the Santa Monica Pier like a beacon of safety as it swirled with color across the ocean skyline and felt my body relax as Aiden pulled into a remotely empty parking lot. Most people were at work, and the air was a little colder than most people liked, inspiring them to think of things far away from the cold ocean breeze. 

This time I didn't argue when Aiden handed me a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap, there really was no point when a mob had chased us out of a bookstore. Slipping out of the car, I was hit with a gust of wild wind and the smell of salt and fresh air. Pulling my ballcap down, I made my way towards the pier, sensing Aiden's presence beside me. 

I enjoyed the feeling of the worn wood planks that made up the pier under my feet as they creaked with each step. The grainy sand that made its way into the wood, acting like sandpaper, wearing down the old and making way for the new. 

The smell of pretzels and hotdogs mixed with the smell of fish would make most people nauseous, but smell had a way of making even the worst smells feel homey when they were connected to happy memories. "You like this place don't you?" Aiden said, surprising me out of my happy place.

I turned to look up at him and felt the baseball cap fly off my head, with all the grace that Aiden had come to know me for. Zero. Zero grace. 

Aiden snatched the cap out of the air with one hand, and before I could even say a word, reached forward and gently pulled it back onto my head with both hands. He nestled it tight against my temples, his hands caging my vision of everything but his steady fingers against my temples as he adjusted it, his breathtaking eyes assessing his work. 

The smell of heavenly citrus and musky earth came off of him, making me forget where I was for a brief moment, erasing the ocean, and replacing it with another man-made beauty. A statue of perfection that was thoughtful and clueless all at once. "Here," he said, his voice soft.

Why does everything he does have to be so attractive? At least give me a fighting chance to keep my head on straight.

Aiden took a step back, giving me space enough to regain control of my ability to breathe. I blinked several times, trying to stop my brain from short-circuiting so my mouth could answer his question. "Yeah, errr... The air is good." That was eloquent. Way to go brain.

I tried again, "The fresh air helps me think. Makes me feel grounded." A little better.

I walked over to the right side of the pier and gripped the sunbaked wood railing. I stared out at the water, trying to wrap my head around the news. Seapunk Princess was going to be a movie.

"Wanna talk about it?" Aiden asked, leaning on the railing next to me. 

I glanced up at him and tilted my head to the side. "Seriously?" I really hoped he was, I couldn't handle him laughing in my face at the moment.

He ran his fingers through his wavy black hair and sighed. "I've seen my share of panic attacks." Aiden stared out at the water, his blue eyes a perfect match to the ocean blue. He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "And you are one moment away from breaking into a thousand pieces."

"Now who's the writer," I replied dryly. The wind picked up, sending a cold chill down my spine. I ignored the cold, refusing to go back to the car. Not yet. Not when it signaled a destination I wasn't quite ready for.

"Avoidance. Another clue that hints towards your stress levels being unhealthily high," Aiden pointed out as he looked down at me. 

"Stop assuming I am a broken person," I said through gritted teeth, trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

Aiden took a step towards me, and I was suddenly shielded from the wind. "We are all broken Summers. No one is above that. We all have scars, cracks, and baggage. And if someone doesn't it's because they haven't lived long enough to find something worthy of impacting them in a permanent way." 

He shrugged his suit jacket off of his shoulders and placed it onto mine. "And the only way to keep yourself from taking on unnecessary scars or cracks is to be open about the ones that exist." He pulled the suit jacket around my shoulders and I pulled my arms through the sleeves thankful for the warmth. 

I wasn't sure what it was, but something in his tone made me brave. Inspired me to share what had been threatening to drown me.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I said to the ground, too flustered to look back up at his face. 

The truth was I was afraid to look up at him. Afraid that he would judge me for being out of my depth. People dreamed of getting a chance to have their work turned into something larger than life, and truth be told, I was too. But something was leaving a bitter taste in my mouth and could no longer be ignored. It was tainting what should have been an exciting day. But all I could see were the consequences.

I looked back at the water. "I didn't realize that writing stories that others loved would result in this," I said with a wave of the suit jacket sleeves, my fingers swallowed in the depths and making me look like a toddler. 

"In what?" Aiden asked, his voice unreadable.

"Losing my freedom," I said, past the lump in my throat. "All that screaming today... not getting to go into a bookstore—," I paused taking an unsteady breath, my eyes glued to the water, hoping that the sadness would be washed away with the waves. "A place that I feel safe. It's gone now." 

I pulled the ballcap lower on my face to hide the tears as they began to stream down my face. "I'm tired of being afraid. Of the notes. Of having to be watched. Of my life being out of control. I just wanted to write books..." I crossed my arms to keep myself from breaking. 

"Why is it that when we find the thing we love and it begins to go well, others suddenly decide to punish you for it?" 

The ballcap was suddenly tilted up and I was met with a pair of eyes that sent my heart hammering, demanding I lean closer while another part of me insisted I yank the ballcap back down and hide. Aiden was a boy that caused me to feel like a walking set of contradicting emotions. Way to make me feel like a normal sane human. It's no wonder boys think we are crazy. They make us this way.

"The better you do in this life, the more love and hate you will receive for it," Aiden said his eyes steady on mine, making me feel tethered, calmer, like I had found an anchor that would keep me from floating away.

"How does someone cope? How does someone not let the words sink in and make them question themselves?" I asked, needing an answer. I couldn't pretend for much longer that the words didn't hurt. 

I had dealt with online trolls. With reviews that weren't kind, with people posting in the comments section of a Twitter post letting me know they hated my work or thought it was trash. And in a strange, twisted, cringy way, I understood those. People wanted to be heard and often didn't care if their words hurt. It was a demand to have what they wanted. And when they loved something, sometimes it caused them to get a little cuckoo-for-cocoa-puffs.

But you could only take so much of it before you felt like you were drowning in cuts shaped as words made just for you. 

"You surround yourself with people who will speak truth into your life. People who lift you up when you can't get up. And most importantly, you take care of yourself first." Aiden motioned towards the food stands near the end of the pier. "For example, right over there, they serve the BEST hot dogs I've ever had." 

Aiden rocked back on his heels, a mischievous smile crossing his mouth, transforming his face, making his blue eyes spark with light. "And don't say you aren't hungry because we both know that's a lie," he said, walking backwards, his hand held up to stop me from interrupting. "And don't say you don't eat hot dogs because I have seen you eat a double-double cheeseburger without shame. You aren't picky." 

I laughed, wiping my eyes. "Fair."

"So... this is what we are going to do. We are going to get hot dogs, you are going to read a few chapters of a book you like over on that bench." Aiden pointed to what so happened to be my favorite bench like a wizard who had somehow figured out my inner soul in a matter of two days. "And then you are going to go to that meeting and sign that contract. You don't have to know what you are doing." 

He shrugged. "You just have to figure it out as you go."

---

Where is your safe/ favorite place to think and be yourself?