Grayson shifts beside me, like he noticed the change in my body and adjusted without making it obvious.
His voice drops low enough that it doesn’t carry. “Hey.”
My head snaps slightly.
Grayson’s eyes flick over my face, then hold mine, steady.
“You want to step out?” he asks like he’s offering a choice, not giving an instruction.
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The line moves forward again, and the cashier says, “Next!”
My chest spikes. My legs feel wrong. My hands feel numb. My brain is already halfway out the door and?—
Grayson carefully reaches for the book I’m holding in my arms, gently taking it and moving toward the register.
“Let me,” he says quietly.
I should say no. I should grab it back. Instead, my fingers let go like they were waiting for permission.
Grayson steps forward, sets his own rental down, scans my workbook, and pays for both with an ease that makes my throat burn.
I hate it.
I love it.
I don’t know what to do with how safe it feels to have someone take the wheel for ten seconds without taking me with it.
He takes the bag from the clerk, acting as if I didn’t just nearly break in the middle of a bookstore.
Then he nods toward the door. “Come on.”
He doesn’t pester me with questions, doesn’t force me to tell him what’s wrong or make me explain my reaction.
He just gets me out.
Outside, the air hits my face, and I inhale too fast.
Grayson stops a few feet away, giving me space like he knows the shape of it.
When I finally look up, his gaze is on my face—not intense, not pitying.
Just…patient. Waiting.
“You want to walk?” he asks.
Notwhere are you going?
Notdo you need me?
I nod once, letting him know I’m okay for now.
We start moving.
The sidewalk is crowded, but not to the same extent as the bookstore. The sun is lower, softening campus into something a little less sharp. My heartbeat slows. The shake in my hands doesn’t go away, but it stops feeling like a threat and starts feeling like adrenaline draining. Grayson doesn’t push for conversation. He just walks with me like he’s matching my pace on purpose. After a minute, he speaks, his voice still low.
“Do you want to tell me why that name did that to you?”
I flinch.
