Just the fact that he had to ask was proof enough that we lived in separate worlds. No one would give me a passing glance if I admitted to suffering from panic attacks. But for Bodhi, such knowledge had the potential to be broadcast live to an overly eager audience.
“You can trust me,” I said, wondering how many times he’d heard that hollow promise in his lifetime.
Bodhi held my gaze for a moment before finding whatever assurance he needed in order to continue. “When I was a kid I was pushed into things I wasn’t comfortable with and panic attacks became my way of dealing with stressful situations. It was terrifying. My heart would race, my chest would constrict, and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. All the symptoms you were describing to me.”
His admission opened up so many more questions. I wondered if he’d had someone to help him through the fear? I didn’t think so.
Emboldened by his faith in me, I gently cupped his cheek. “Thank you for helping me through it.”
Bodhi’s expression softened as he brushed his thumb over my goose egg. “Maybe you should have that looked at. Does it hurt?”
“I mean it doesn’tnothurt,” I replied. “But I’ll live.”
He nodded. “We both will.”
* * *
Handing the towel to Bodhi, I pointed him in the direction of the shower, but he remained rooted in place, conflicted. Was it just me, or was tonight’s shower time particularly fraught with complications?
“Everything okay?”
“Sure.” Bodhi grinned. “I was just wondering how you felt about nudity.”
I stopped towel drying my hair and cast him a questioning glance. “I mean I’m not one hundred percent opposed. Why?”
“I don’t have any clothes to change into.”
“Oh.” I let out a relieved breath. As dreamy as he was, I wasn’t quite ready for dangling bits. “No worries. I’ve got you covered.”
“Really?” He perked right up. “I just assumed by the looks of the dollhouse you live in, you didn’t have any men’s clothing laying around.”
“Oh, that’s what you wanted? Yeah, I haven’t had men’s clothes in an apartment of mine since I gathered up all my ex-fiancée’s clothing and donated them to the homeless shelter.”
“And when you say donate, did you have permission to give his shit away?”
“Technically, no.”
“But un-technically, you had his permission?”
“Um, no. Not that way either. Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled to find Dumpster Donnie wearing his leather jacket.”
His mouth curved wryly. “I hope your ex deserved it.”
“Oh, he deserved it, all right. My only regret was not getting my hands on the pieces of his wardrobe that had already been relocated to his lover’s place.”
Bodhi winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“And he was your fiancée?”
“Yes, and she was my cousin.”
He choked out a laugh before our eyes met and the smile faded from his face. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It was quite the scandal. But, you know, it was a long time ago and I’m over it. Let’s go find you some clothes.”
An awkward silence settled between us. Maybe he was trying to come up with an appropriate response but I wasn’t looking for sympathy. That was an emotion I’d tired of long ago.
