But I don't want space.
I want...
I don't even know what I want.I just know that the thought of him makes my chest feel less tight.Makes the fear feel less suffocating.
I pick up the phone.Type:Are you around?
Delete it.
Type:Can we talk?
Delete that too.
Finally, I just send it.
Are you around?
I hit send before I can over-think it.
His reply comes almost immediately.
Yeah.You okay?
My chest tightens.
Can you come over?Mam and Warren are out for the night.
Another immediate reply.
Be there in ten.
I stare at the message for a long moment.Then panic sets in.
He's coming here.To my flat.Where we'll be alone.And I just...asked him to.
What am I doing?
I rush around the flat, straightening cushions that are already straight, wiping down the kitchen counter again, checking my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
I look pale, tired, hair still damp and wavy from the shower.No makeup.
I consider changing my shirt, then stop myself.
This is ridiculous.He's seen me at my worst.Seen me cry.Seen me terrified and shaking.Why am I worried about what shirt I'm wearing?
But I change it anyway.Something fitted.Black.Then immediately feel stupid for caring.
The knock comes exactly ten minutes later.Soft and gentle.
I open the door and there he is.Leather jacket, dark jeans, that careful stillness he carries.But his eyes are worried, searching my face.
"You okay?"he asks quietly.
The question nearly undoes me.Because no one asks me that.Not really.Not with the kind of genuine concern that's written all over his face.
"Yeah.I just..."I step aside."I didn't want to be alone tonight."
He comes inside, and I close the door behind him.Lock it.
