“So,” he says, and I get the feeling he’s desperately grasping at anything to make conversation at this point. It’s not surprising, since I’m not giving him any help. He probably thinks my silent treatment means I’m pissed at him instead of the reality: I’m stewing in my own neurosis.Social anxiety and PTSD FTW.
He clears his throat. “So, you grew up around here, right? Have you been out this way before? To the coast, I mean?”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head and taking a drink of my Coke.
“Oh. My family used to go out to the Oregon Coast every year. I used to love hanging out with all my cousins and playing on the beach all summer.” He smiles. “Every Fourth of July, we’d have a huge fireworks display on the beach, even though it was technically not allowed, and we’d have beach bonfires nearly every night.”
“Yeah, well, not every family is the kind who takes happy vacations and jaunts to the beach every year. My family sure as hell wasn’t,” I say shortly and immediately feel like shit at the way he recoils like I’ve smacked him.What in the hell is wrong with me?Sam wasn’t taunting me or trying to point out that he had a better childhood than me. But I’m so nervous and sleep deprived, I’m irritable as fuck. I know Derek would tell me Sam’s trying to get to know me, and my anxiety is trying to pull me back, away from this new experience that my brain perceives as dangerous.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Sam sputters, color rising on his cheeks. I feel even more like an asshole.
“Oh, fuck, Sam, I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
He nods without looking me in the eyes and takes a sip from his beer. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. The rest of lunch crawls by at a glacial pace while I stew about what an idiot I am and how badly I’m fucking everything up. By the time we walk back out to the truck, the tension between us is so thick I can almost taste it.
Once we’re in the cab, I sigh heavily and lean forward on the seat, my elbows on my knees, holding my head in my hands. “Jesus fucking Christ. I’m such an asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
Keeping my eyes on the floor, I start talking. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you. I’ve, uh, been having some anxiety, and it’s got the best of me today. I’m really sorry for acting like a dick.” I look over at him to make sure I catch his response—assuming he has one.
He looks worried. “It’s okay, Tyler. It just seems like you’re really tense. What are you anxious about? Is it me? Being here with me? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you’re not okay with rooming together, I’m sure we can figure something else out. Or I can talk to Mason and he can replace me with someone else. Or we could—” He’s talking so fast I’m not getting every word, but I’m picking up on his worry loud and clear.
I shake my head emphatically, cutting him off. “No, no, no. It’s not you, Sam. I’m sorry. I just… Fuck… You probably know I have PTSD, right?”
Sam nods, his eyes still concerned, but at least he’s stopped gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “Yeah, Mason mentioned it back when you were first hired, just so we knew what kind of accommodations we needed to make. Is it going to be a problem for you? I know this place is a little isolated. Shit, I didn’t even think to ask whether something might trigger you. I’m so sorry…”
“No, it’s okay. One of my symptoms is nightmares. And I’ve had all this stuff about moving and this new job on my mind, and it’s been affecting my sleep. When my sleep gets fucked-up, my anxiety gets worse, which makes me more likely to have nightmares.” I sigh. “And my nightmares aren’t fun for anyone. I don’t want you to have to deal with me if I have one. I’m really sorry. I’m such a hot mess.”
I let out a bitter-sounding laugh. This whole thing is so stupid. Sam is so earnest, trying so hard to make this easier for me, and I’m acting like a complete head case.
His face goes from concerned to puzzled as I laugh.
“Umm…?”
“It’s not you, I promise. I’m a walking shitshow. My special power is fucking up any interpersonal relationship. My brother, friends, teachers, managers. My talent in this area is unparalleled.” I’m still laughing, but I’m so frustrated I can barely stop myself from jumping out of the truck and running away in embarrassment.
He still looks concerned. “Oh. Are you… I mean… is there anything I can do to make things easier for you?”
I shake my head. “I just need to get over myself.” I sigh. “I’ve been nervous about the sleeping arrangements because of the chance of nightmares. But of course, I was too nervous to ask anyone about it, so I just let it fester, which was clearly the best way to handle it,” I say with a small smile that he returns cautiously.
“Well, I’m glad you told me it’s a possibility,” he says, his face relaxing a smidge. “If you do have a nightmare, is there anything I can do to help you?”
How is this guy even real?
“No, no, it’s fine. If it happens, I’ll handle it,” I say dismissively, even though my stomach clenches, knowing that I don’t “handle” my nightmares very well.
“Well, at least if something happens, I won’t freak out and accidentally kill you with my ninja reflexes before I’ve fully woken up,” he says with a totally straight face, and for a second, I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But then I see him biting his lip, trying not to laugh as he takes in my confused expression, so I let out a chuckle.
“Oh. Is that something that’s happened often?” I ask. “Like, have you accidentally killed people in the past with your lightning-fast ninja reflexes before you were awake?”
“Dude, come on. You know I can’t talk about that kind of thing. If information like that were to get out, my cover as a secret ninja superhero would be completely blown.”
“Right, sorry, I should have known.” I shoot him a grin. “But I do feel better just knowing you won’t turn your lethal ninja skills on me.”
“I’m telling you—that’s the best possible attitude. Just relax and let the ninja do his thing if he makes an appearance.” He grins at me, and the tension hanging between us seems to disappear. The remainder of the drive is comfortable as we chat about everything and nothing, and I slowly begin to relax.
CHAPTER 11
SAM
