Well, now I just don't want to hang out with these people.
I don’t mask it quickly enough, a flicker of my thoughts must show briefly on my face, because Deanna catches it, leans closer to me with her wide smile, and nudges me with her elbow.
“Just teasing, baby girl,” she assures me, doing nothing to actually stem the adrenaline coursing through me. My heart is pounding. Well, if she’s just teasing, then of course it’s nothing.
I glance at the rest of our coworkers, the way they’re staring back at me, watching for the slightest change in their expressions, if they’re looking at me differently now than they were a moment ago. I didn’t even realize Deanna knew. How could she have known? I never told anyone.
But I guess Vlad had put it together himself without me telling him, others must have been able to. And even if they hadn’t, Deanna just did.
This moment feels like it’s being trapped in amber. I watch the opportunity to say something, to cut her joke down for what it is, flutter away while my courage fails to rise.
I don’t have it in me.
“Of course,” I nod, and shrug it off, pretending my heart doesn’t close like a fist around her words.
I put on a pinched smile for as long as I can, and when the attention finally shifts to someone else, and they’re all laughing again, I quietly slip away from the table.
When I step outside, the din falls away quickly. As soon as the door falls shut behind me, it mutes the sounds of the party almost entirely. It’s cooler out on the veranda, and as I inhale deeply, I realize how shaky my breath is in my throat. I settle against the veranda’s railing.
My smile fades as realization sets in. I really convinced myself that no one knew, that I could keep the important, vulnerable things to myself. And I thought that maybe people liked me here.
I go through the eight stages of grief in the expanse of a few seconds. The alcohol helps, honestly. Maybe that’s why these trips are so quick to have it readily available—all these people who don’t actually like each other all that much, pretending to get along so they can get through another day with their paycheck intact.
“Hey, Team Player.”
I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone. I look up before I realize I know this voice. Vlad followed me out here, I don’t know exactly when. Maybe I was too caught up in my feelings to notice the door opening again.
A rattled laugh escapes me. Yeah, that would be what it looks like. I’m running away from the party because I can’t stand being around other people, because that’s a weird little me thing, and not because people at large are terrible.
“Hey, yourself. I see you’re, um, also lurking,” I fumble for cheeriness, for words that won’t break me to say. I don’t want to bring what just happened inside out here with me, I don’t want him to know about any of it.
“Taking a quick break before I dive back into the cult initiation,” he says easily, pushing off the wall and crossing to me. It's hard to not just lean into his side, to draw too close for coworkers to be.
Deanna’s little comment had eclipsed that earlier panic attack, I’d nearly forgotten about it. Silver lining or something, until he’d reminded me about it.
“Yeah, it’s kind of intense in there. I didn’t think you were going to ambush me like that,” I say, crossing my arms, my voice coming out a little too harsh. I keep trying to school my posture, my face, into something less outwardly panicked and aggressive, but my composure keeps slipping. My body wants to shift into something more ferocious, like a cat’s tail becoming all bushy.
“I thought you worked in the Peaks,” he frowns. “You know how it goes in a pitch session.”
I wilt, my teeth crushing the words,I was just an intern. I never pitched anything except everyone’s empty coffee cups into the trash.
My silence is just as frosty as anything I’m holding back, it seems. His expression softens with concern, his wings drifting inwards.
“I’m sorry I ambushed you like that. I thought I was giving you a chance to practice your unlimited PTO proposal. But that really wasn’t the way to help, was it?”
Some of my roiling emotions diffuse at his apology, some of them only complicate. I know he means well, that he was trying to help in his own way. But we have such different ideas of what that looks like.
I don't really know how I feel about being out here with him. There’s no one else I would rather see right now, but at the same time, right now I don’t want to be seen at all.
“I can’t wait to get in my own bed at home,” I say, even though I don’t mean a word of it. I just want to dive into his arms and hold him and not have to think about the rest of the world. “This whole trip has just gone on so long, and I've had enough of these people to last me a lifetime.”
It veers a little too close to what I'm actually feeling, and a hitch of emotion poisons my casual tone.
It doesn't escape Vlad. He glances behind us, at the glassy doors. He takes my hand and pulls me out of their view, a little way down the veranda. I don't have the energy to stop the way the simple movement brings me closer to him, gently corralled into his space. His wings tuck around us, providing a small sense of privacy.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came with us tonight,” he smiles at me, and I can see he really is proud of me. It hurts as much as it feels good, but I don’t know that I can handle both feelings layered on top of one another right now. “That first night I didn’t think you’d ever come out of your shell.”
“Pssh! I don’t have a shell,” I roll my eyes. I’m here, aren’t I? Pretending to be friendly and outgoing as well as competent.
