‘Watch out!’ a girl snaps when I trip over the straps of her backpack.
‘Sorry!’ I call over my shoulder, but she doesn’t even hear me.
I clench my fists together and release them as I move through the never-ending throng. Despite the fact I’m looking into the jaws of hell, my concentration is unshakeable as I continue on my search.
Ignore the tell-tale burning on the back of my neck and down my spine.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Don’t look behind me, only forward.
Pause. Scan the area.
Laser-focussed on finding a certain pair of blue eyes.
I struggle through a particularly busy section, panting as I make my way through. I brace myself for the next part. But peering around the shoulder of the man in front of me, I can see that it’s somehow even more dense. Endless bodies crammed. Immovable.
I come to sudden stop, my hands shaking.
Why did I do this? What was I thinking diving headfirst into this crowd with no preparation? The sheer size of it suddenly feels like it’s pressing down on me, like my body is being held underwater; the view of the surface of a sprawling ocean floating above me, just out of reach.
My chest spasms, fighting for air. My breath comes out in short and hard bursts. The first priority is to get that under control. I wrestle with my perception of the space around me, arguing with my own brain that there is air for me here. Oxygen is plentiful. I cannot run out of air.
My fists are clenched so tightly that they are practically vibrating. I force my attention on the sensation, then force a deep breath out. With great effort, I breathe in again. It’s shaky but I succeed.
It’s a small win, but a win all the same. I am still on my feet. It’s far more than I ever thought I was capable of achieving.
Everybody sings in sync around me, masking the sounds of my breathing. The couple next to me haven’t even noticed my episode, their attention is so focussed on the stage.
After repeating my breathing exercise several times, I decide it’s time to turn around and consider my journey back.
A voice breaks me out of my thoughts. It’s familiar, but over the roar of the crowd I can’t tell how close it is. That is, until a strong hand firmly wraps around my upper arm.
‘What are you doing here,’ the voice demands, urgent and desperate. The hand tugs me towards the sound. I whirl round to see who has me in their grip, and my eyes can scarcely believe what they’re seeing.
Because he’s here. He has somehow managed to find me inside this endless maze.
And I realise that I have found myself attached to Elliot Walker in the middle of a crowd for the second time.
‘It’s you,’ I say, sounding as breathless as I feel.
Relief tears at the very edges of me, my insides spilling over with it. The last remnants of the sunset envelope us in thick orange threads, bathing us both in a pool of warm, heady light, and I can’t tear my gaze away from his face; at the way the warmth hits the hard angles of it. I try my best to memorise it in case this all goes horribly wrong.
His grip on me goes slack as he studies me with a panicked expression.
I release a long exhale, my body loosening. His arm curls around my shoulder, protective and tender all at once. Something fierce flashes behind his eyes but when he speaks, his voice is soft.
‘What are you doing here?’ he repeats, his face twisted with worry. Watching me with carefully concealed curiosity.
A fresh wave of guilt crashes against my gut. It feels as if all I’ve done is bring disruption into this man’s life. But I have to swallow it.
My heart thunders in my chest as I become uncomfortably aware of the eyes surrounding us on all sides. The term ‘head empty’ has never felt more relevant.
What am I here for again? What am I doing? Why didn’t I rehearse something or make some notes??
‘We should stop meeting like this,’ I say weakly, but my voice is ragged.
His mouth twitches at the joke, but the unrelenting tenderness in his face is what halts any rational thought occurring in my brain, and makes me want to trace the frown carved into his skin with my fingertips.
