My stomach drops, my heart throbbing in discomfort. Seeing my boyfriend standing there- a deer caught in headlights- like he's about to apologize for something I don't want to hear. God, please, he didn't cheat on me. He wouldn't. Nothing happened. Please, please, please.

But, a guy has his grip on my Grayson's waist. What the fuck?

"Reid," Grayson pushes the taller boy back and when I get a clear look at the guy's face. I realize who it is.

Grayson's ex.

Luke? Logan? Liam? I don't remember his name, but here he is, the guy from the photographs. The annoyingly good looking ex who made me insecure just from a picture. In person? I want to slip through the carpet below my feet and never return.

I feel small compared to him. Well, I am small compared to him. He's all muscles and protein shakes- just like the pictures from before- and I'm... I'm a chopstick. What the fuck?

"He's scrawnier in person," the ex comments, sizing me up. I feel sick to my stomach.

"Fuck off, Logan," Grayson spits out.

I still can't get a single word past my teeth. I'm just standing here, my jaw slack, and my body wants to crumble. My breath is coming out shorter. I'm gonna have a panic attack. In front of Grayson and his beautiful ex boyfriend and if that's not the most humiliating thing, I don't know what is. (Okay, maybe the whole school seeing Grayson and I making out is more embarrassing... actually, I don't know. I'll think on that later).

"Alright, I'll leave," He- Logan- says with a hint of deviousness to his tone. I want to cry. "You two probably have a lot to talk about." He's looking at Grayson now, "I'm staying at the Hilton hotel until Thursday. I'm sure you still have my number, so just text me when you're done." He steps my way, but before he walks out the door, Logan looks me up and down one more time. He speaks only to me, "Good thing you didn't walk in earlier," his voice is small, but brutal. "I wouldn't have wanted you to see anything you didn't want to." He grins.

There's tears building up in my eyes, and I know he catches them. But they don't fall. I hold myself together as he nudges past me and walks down the stairs.

Those words ring in my ear, stabbing and twisting into my heart. I bleed out.

Grayson doesn't say anything to me until we hear the front door slam shut. How Logan even got here is a mystery to me, but I don't have time to dwell on it as Grayson's talking quickly to me.

"Whatever he just said to you, he's lying," Grayson's up close to me.

I push past him, so I'm in the room. "What he just said was that it's good I didn't walk in earlier or I would've seen something I didn't want to see," I tried not to blink, but I do and it releases tears. My voice cracks when I say, "And based on how it looked when I did walk in-"

"Nothing happened, I swear," Grayson's back at my side, his thumbs swiping my tears away. "He just says shit to get to you. That's what he does; he fucks with your head."

"Do you still have his number?" I ask, my voice shaking.

Please say no, Grayson. Please don't have his number.

But I get the answer from his guilty, blue eyes and my heart cracks. I step away from his touch. "I... I just haven't gone through my contacts," is my boyfriend's shity explanation.

"What would've happened if I hadn't walked in?" My hearts pounding out of my aching chest. I don't want to hear this answer.

"Nothing. I- I don't know," he looks shameful. Fuck, I hate that expression on him.

"You don't know?" God, can't I catch a fucking break? And it's only February!!

"Reid, nothing happened and nothing was going to happen," Grayson tells me reassuringly, but I don't think he even believes that. Which makes everything so much worse.

My chest is heavy and my breathing is rough. The anxiety attack is growing from deep within my core and it's clawing it's way through my body. My body's trembling now, but it's not quite there yet. And I don't want to be here with Grayson when the attack is at full swing. Cause for the first time in months, I know his touch would not soothe my anxiety. He is my anxiety.

"I- I can't handle this right now," I go to the door.

My hand is grabbed and I'm facing him. "Baby, breathe. Please don't go. Let's talk." His eyes are begging as much as his voice.

I break loose from him, and looking my boyfriend straight in the eyes, I say, "I don't want to talk to you."

"Reid," Grayson calls, but I'm already out the door.

My anxiety attack came and went. Now, I'm left with a raging migraine and sobbing on the side of the road, a few blocks away from Grayson's house. (I realize I'm at the same park where I had a panic attack after kissing Grayson at his house that day. Preston and Alex had picked me up).

I call Preston, he doesn't answer. I call Alex, he doesn't answer. Well, fuck me, I guess.

Actually, fuck Grayson. Fuck Logan. Fuck my friends for not picking up their Goddamned phones. Fuck everything and everyone!

I've never went through my attacks alone. Grayson is usually there for me, or Preston, or Peter. Never alone.

I call Marisa and she picks up on first ring.

"Bonjour, ma jolie amie," she answers cheerful in a perfect French accent. She's been taking French for four years.

"I don't know what that means," I cry. I would laugh at myself if I wasn't in emotional pain, thinking of all the ways Grayson would cheat on me with Logan. And my imagination is very creative.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry, I said 'hello, my pretty friend.'" She tells me in a nervous rush as if her speaking French to me is the reason I'm crying.

I actually do laugh, but it's mixed with my sobs.

"It's- it's not you. Can- can you pi- pick me up?"

"Of course! What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

I put her on speaker while she rushes out questions and I go to her contact info to send her my current location. "I sent you my location," I tell her, ignoring her worries.

"Okay, I'll be there in a second!" I hear rustling in the background; her keys rattling and a door slamming. "Do you want me to pick up ice cream or food? Are you hydrated? Do you need water? Should we get Jess? Shit, we can't get Jess, she's out to dinner with her family." She's almost as panicked as I was. Her rushed behavior is actually calming me down because I'm so immersed in her frantic words, I can't think of why I was sobbing. It's almost comical.

Then before I can even get a word out, Marisa gasps, "Where's Grayson? Oh, no, did something happen?" And it's no longer comical.

"I- I don't know," and I cry again.

Her sympathy in her tone is not unheard, "oh, sweetie. Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes."

Marisa picked me up ice cream. A Blizzard from Dairy Queen.

We're leaning against her headboard on her bed, finishing our ice cream.

I've never been in her bedroom. It's the picture perfect Pinterest room. Aesthetically pleasing with it's botanical greenery, the fake ivy strung up. Retro posters. A record player on the second shelf of a clean, white book case. Books packed on the remaining shelves. A matching dresser with picture frames or her and Jess or her family. A white vanity with her makeup organized.

Marisa's bed cover is a simple forest-green duvet. Her room is comforting.

While I sit in her safe room, I realize something that I hadn't realized earlier while I was crying on the side of the road...

My anxiety attack tonight was different. Usually, I can't focus on anything else other than panicking and the reason as to why I'm panicking. Though, those were at the back of my mind, my focus was more on how I can stop my anxiety attack.

I tried the breathing technique Grayson always tells me to do. And to 'ground myself' like he had said before. So I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth in increments of three seconds. I told myself to feel the grass below me and I actually pulled my own hands away from my hair to feel the grass.

And my panic subsided and I was reduced to only crying. Knowing how to stop an anxiety attack on my own and actually doing so, is something I've never done before.

I almost smile thinking about how I actually didn't need anyone there for me.

"I can't believe he just bought a plane ticket like that to go see Grayson."

My 'almost smile' is extinguished and my only response to that is an irritable grunt. I had told Marisa everything I walked in on, and what Logan said to me, and mine and Grayson's conversation.

"Oh, sorry," says Marisa sheepishly.

"It's fine. I know, how fucking romantic he just flew across the states to see my boyfriend," I speak bitterly.

"Well, Logan- which is an ugly name by the way- is leaving soon and you and Grayson can talk it out. He didn't act on anything," Marisa points out.

"He could have though. You should've see how guilty Grayson looked. I trust that he didn't do anything before I walked in, he wouldn't lie to me about that. But, his guilty stupid eyes were for what he might've done had I not walked in." I think we all know by now that my motor-mouth doesn't stop until I say something I regret. Like when I confess, "but can I even be mad when I'm keeping the fact the Preston kissed me a secret?"

Marisa gasps, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide.

Fuck.

"Oh no," Marisa shakes her head, "you shouldn't have told me that."

"Why?" I say feeling panicked again.

And now she's panicked while saying, "I can't keep secrets, Reid! I've been texting Jess about this whole situation between you and Grayson this entire time!"

"That's why you've been on your phone? I thought you were just a shitty listener."

"No, I love drama, you know that," she whines.

"Well, what the fuck? You can't tell anyone about Preston kissing me." We're both speaking frantically like we're in distress.

"Ah, let me tell Jess, I just need to get it out of my system! She's great at keeping secrets. She's never told anyone about Alex being sexually confused for Kurtis."

"What?!"

Marisa covers her mouth again realizing she slipped a secret.

"What the fuck? Alex likes Kurtis? Are we all gay?"

Marisa laughs and then I laugh, but it's a panicked laugh from both of us, knowing what a shit-show this is.

We calm down and I tell her, "you can't tell anyone about the kiss. Preston regrets it."

She makes another whiny noise. "Okay, okay," she agrees and we're quiet. Then she says, "what are you going to do about Grayson? You can sleep over and tell me about the kiss with Preston," she offers with a innocent smile.

I almost laugh, "yeah, no. That's the most information you're getting on that. And thank you, but I should go back."

Marisa nods, picking up her car keys from the nightstand, then throwing away our empty ice cream cups.

And when I stand up, she's giving me a hug. I wrap my arms around her. "Thank you. For picking me up and getting me ice cream. And everything."

"Of course." We pull back. "Just next time, don't tell me your secrets," she pats me on the shoulder and I chuckle.

But I know I'm fucked. Please, God, don't let Marisa slip up.

😌