Meg doesn’t move away. If anything, she moves closer, one knee pressing against the concrete as she crouches beside me.
“Don’t be so stubborn. Let me help,” she demands and I clench my chest a little tighter.
“Ahh, the irony. It hurts.” There’s a light smack on my shoulder before Meg’s hand reaches for the base of my neck. I concentrate on her touch, rooting myself to it as my mind falters.
“We’re going to breathe, okay? In for three, out for five. Count with me. One,” Meg starts counting, audibly inhaling and exhaling. I mimic in short bursts at first, still battling against the feeling of having someone witness me in this state. Heat crawls through my body, making a beeline for my throat.
“You’re still breathing too fast,” Meg comments far more calmly than I expected. “Slow it down.”
“I—” Another breath catches violently in my chest. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” She shifts, lowering my head into her lap to free up her hands. One reaches for my wrist and rests it against my chest, while the other presses lightly against the center of her chest. “Focus on me. In through your nose. Slowly.” I try to nod my head, although I’m not sure I manage it. My mind feels like it’s falling, sinking through space, despite being safely cocooned in Meg’s lap.
“Everest…Calloway…doesn’t panic,” I manage to rasp, clinging to the words as if I’m not laying on the same stadium floor where Meg was bludgeoned and dragged away. On the same campus where Laura was drugged and stolen in the middleof the night. On the same site as the secret I hide but can’t ignore.
“Everest,” Meg cuts in, giving me a firm shake. “Your body doesn’t care about your reputation right now.” That stalls my thoughts. Fuck, she’s right, and within an instant, my limbs are starting to loosen. No one else is here. No one aside from Meg, that is, and she’s already seen straight through the hoax I’m failing to maintain. Her thumb presses gently against the inside of my wrist where my pulse is racing out of control, and to probably both of our surprise, she rubs small, reassuring circles.
Eventually, I accept that she’s not going to leave. She’s staying to see me through this. My lungs drag in a shaky breath, steadily starting to match her whispered count. Against my better judgement, my eyes crack open. The world tilts slightly, Meg’s face hovering in the darkness. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, strands shifting to tickle my cheeks.
“Why are you here?” I manage to croak. Meg shakes her head, continuing to count. Three in, five out, as she demonstrates with exaggeration. At some point, she releases my wrist and her hand slips into mine. I curl my fingers between hers, unsure if that’s what she intended but I cling on anyway. She’s joined me on this sinking ship now, I’m tethering her to it.
Gradually, the violent pounding in my ears fades, becoming somewhat manageable. The tight band around my ribs doesn’t loosen completely, but the suffocating pressure begins to ease just enough for me to combat the dizziness swirling around my head. Sensing the shift in my body and without discussion, we readjust for Meg to get more comfortable. Her legs curl underneath her, and somehow my head seems to end up resting back on her shoulder. Across my stomach, my fingers remain interlocked with hers.
“How are you feeling?” Meg’s voice rumbles against my back, her cheek against my head. Our rivalry has been temporarily put on pause.
“Like I said, I’m fine,” I grumble irritably. Not at her. At myself. Meg lets the lie slide, gazing out towards the pitch as though we both came out here with the sole intention of watching the empty stretch of artificial turf beneath a sky that has chosen tonight to hide every last star. Silence settles between us, not a sound to be heard beyond my slightly labored breathing. Though, it feels different now. Less like she’s humoring me and more of a shared moment. One I will insist we never speak of again.
Ultimately, I decide I can’t lie here against her any longer. Not if I want to start scraping back some of my dignity. My fingers loosen their death grip on Meg’s and I force myself to sit up, breaking our contact.
“You want to tell me what that was really about?” Meg asks. I let out a slow breath through my nose, the weight of stress still lingering faintly in my limbs.
“No,” I answer honestly. I don’t need to look at her to know she’s rolled her eyes.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“I didn’t exactly have an enjoyable experience myself,” I snip back. For a moment, I think that’s the end of it. That Meg will stand up, brush off her ruined pantsuit, and disappear back toward the campus like this never happened. Instead, she stays seated beside me on the cold concrete. I turn away from the field, leaning back against the railing now, letting the cool surface press against the back of my skull as I study her in the dim light.
“You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?” Meg opens her mouth immediately, the response clearly halfway formed, but then something flickers across her expression. Herlips press together again, hesitation replacing whatever quick excuse she’d been about to offer.
“I was…um,” She bites her lip. Even in the subdued light, I witness a mix of guilt and stubbornness settle across her features as she glances down at her hands. “I thought maybe the vigil might bring Harrison back.” My brow furrows, a prickling unease working its way through me.
“I’m sorry. What?”
Meg’s shoulders lift in a small, helpless shrug. It’s her turn to become guarded, trying to shut me out.
“I thought that maybe he might want to return to the scene of the crime. That it was me he was after,” she says so quietly, I have to lean forward to hear her properly. “And maybe I could trade myself for Laura.” The words settle in the air between us for half a second before the full implication of what she’s just said slams into my brain.
“So you were waiting here for him?” I half-shout, the sudden surge of anger tightening my chest again as I push myself upright. The motion sends a dull ache through my skull that I quickly shut down, gritting my teeth against it. “What the fuck were you thinking?!”
Meg doesn’t flinch. Instead, she slowly rises to square the silhouette of her shoulders.
“I thought that I’ve endured him once. I can take her place and do it again,” she replies, her voice unnervingly steady despite the insanity of what she’s suggesting. The spark of a growing fire ignites behind my ribs.
“That’s not an option,” I growl harshly, the response immediate. My hands curl into fists as I lean toward her. “You hear me? You do not put yourself in danger. Not for Laura, not for anyone.” Meg tilts her head upwards, defiance etched into her features.
“You don’t get to make that decision,” she replies.
“Yes, I do.” I bite out, the anger now mixing dangerously with the lingering panic still coiled in my chest.
