Page 46 of Love in the Stacks
“You don’t have to,” he says.
“I know, but you haven’t eaten yet. I could drive a bit while you eat your lunch.” Adam hesitates, so I rush to add, “I mean, if you’recomfortable with someone else … with me driving your car. It’s fine if you’re not.”
“You know, that would be great,” Adam says with a smile. “I could use a break from driving for a while.”
He ducks around the back of the car toward the passenger side while I slide into the driver’s seat. I adjust the seat and mirrors before turning the key that’s already in the ignition. Before shifting out of park, I reach for my bag of white cheddar nuggees, pop it open, and set it on the center console for easy access. Nuggees are Buc-ee’s brand of cheese puffs, except the pieces are smaller, so they maybe fall somewhere between a cheese ball and a cheese puff. Anyway, the white cheddar ones are my favorite.
We’re pulling back onto the highway when Adam unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite. I glance at him quickly before shifting my eyes back to the road.
“Well?” I ask.
Adam moans through a mouthful of beef and sauce. He takes a minute to chew and swallow and then answers me. “This is delicious. Seriously. We’re definitely stopping at Buc-ee’s again on the way home.”
“I have zero problems with that,” I respond, my heart squeezing in my chest. I don’t know why, but Adam’s newfound enthusiasm for Buc-ee’s makes me ridiculously happy. It’s early yet on this trip, but I already feel like Adam and I are cementing our friendship—learning more about each other, establishing shared experiences, exploring how we get along outside of work.
I’ve had a difficult time making friends since I graduated from college. For a while there, I was fully focused on my master’s program and my disintegrating relationship with Steven. Then, I moved to a different state, and while I’ve tried to put myself out there to meet people other than the ones I work with, it’s been hard to connect with anyone. Tasha is great to talk to while we’re working, but she’s a student and my sense of propriety tells me it’s not okay to hang out with her and her other student friends at college parties. Not that college parties sound fun to me, anyway. My blossoming friendship with Ashley feels promising, but she’s also busy planning her wedding. I have my sisters, of course, but we’re so spread out now.
I’m excited I get to see Molly this weekend; it’s a nice coincidence that the conference is being held where she lives. It can be hard to pry her out of her lab, even on weekends, so I’m grateful she can make time for me. She’s coming to our presentation on Sunday, and then we’re going out to dinner together.
I’m lost in thought as I drive. I glance to the passenger seat and see that Adam has fallen asleep, the back of his head leaning against the headrest and his mouth hanging open slightly. A sense of contentment washes over me, and I smile.
Getting to know Adam has been unexpected. Before we started working on the graphic novel project together, when I thought of him, if I thought of him at all, I assumed he was socially awkward and serious. Now, I’m starting to think that there are two Adams: Work Adam and Fun Adam. Whenever we’ve interacted outside of the library, he’s been thoughtful and funny. Who knew he wasfunny? And interesting. His hobbies are different from mine, but are similarly centered around learning, similarly nerdy.
Just then, a pickup truck in the lane to the left of me catches my attention in the side mirror. It’s zooming up quickly and as it pulls up alongside me, it’s forced to slow down to avoid the car in front of it. I slow Adam’s car as well, keeping an eye on the truck. I notice the bed is loaded down with stuff—random tools and scrap metal—and the tailgate is down. The truck speeds up and then hits the brakes, slowing long enough to allow some space to build up between it and the car in front of it. Then, it speeds up again to erase the space, braking again just before reaching the front car. It does this several more times, and I slow down even more, trying to stay far enough back to avoid the drama.
Suddenly, the truck jerks to the right, jumping in front of me and hitting the gas to speed forward. A piece of scrap metal tumbles out of the truck bed so quickly that I don’t register it right away. It hits the road right in front of me and without thinking, I swerve to avoid it, but I’m too late; my reflexes are too slow. A loud THA-WUMP sounds as I run over the scrap metal. I hold my breath, and for a few seconds, nothing happens. Maybe the tire is fine. Then, I hear thewub-wub-wubnoise of a flat tire hitting the road, and I know I didn’t get lucky. The steering wheel vibrates, and I strain my arm muscles steering the car onto the shoulder.
At some point, Adam jolted up in his seat, and now he’s regarding me with wide eyes. My hands shake and adrenaline takes over.
Chapter twenty-one
Adam
Idon’t even remember falling asleep, but I’m definitely awake now.
Nicole quickly guides the car to the right shoulder of the highway. When she turns off the engine, I jump out of the car to check the damage. Hands on my hips, I survey the front of the car. Everything looks okay except for the front driver side tire. It’s totally shredded. What in the world happened? I survey the highway behind us and see a chunk of metal in the road.
My eyes dart to Nicole, still sitting in the driver’s seat. She’s gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. Her eyes have a glazed look. I rush back to the open passenger side door and bend down to peer inside, my hands anchored on the roof of the car.
“What happened?” I wince at the bark in my words. I take a breath and try again. “Are you okay?”
Nicole’s hands drop from the steering wheel and onto her lap. They’re shaking violently. She closes her eyes and leans her head back on the headrest.
“Nicole,” I say gently.
Her eyes open and turn toward me with a jerk. Her pupils are dilated, and I get the sense that though she’s looking at me, she can’t really see me. I take another deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. I need to stay calm here. I slide into the passenger seat and lean toward Nicole.
“Nicole,” I say softly. “Are you hurt?” She doesn’t respond and I’m silently freaking out. “I’m going to check to see if you’re injured,” I tell her. It doesn’t make sense that she would be, though. It’s a flat tire—nothing would have happened to us inside the car. Even so, I gently turn her head, looking for anything amiss. I lean over her and check over her left side, down to her legs and feet. Everything looks okay.
Then, she speaks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says so haltingly and quietly that I strain to hear her. Her voice is tight, and I get the impression that getting these words out is difficult for her.
“No, you’re fine, Nicole. You don’t need to be sorry,” I reassure her.
A light bulb goes off in my head, and I lean forward, pulling out my phone. I surreptitiously google “how to help someone having a panic attack” and skim the results. First advice is to stay calm. Okay, I’m trying.
Provide reassuring words. “Hey, Nicole,” I say softly. “You’re okay. We’re okay. I’m here with you. I won’t leave you.”
Encourage them to use grounding techniques.Um, okay. I keep reading to see whatthatmeans:Hold their hand or provide other reassuring touch.Yeah, I can do that. I gently reach forward and hold her hands between mine. She’s still trembling, but not as strongly as before. I rub circles on her hand with my thumb and keep up the reassuring words. “You’re safe,” I say. “I won’t leave you.”
