Page 65 of Nerdelicious
“I hope so.”
A light caress of his fingers down my arm to my hands, then he links one hand with mine.
“Are you sure you want to do this with me? Since I’m not a safe bet?”
You’re worth it.
Our eyes lock and everything in me melts into something warm and miraculous. How can he believe in me when I don’t even believe in myself? Jack didn’t. Even my parents don’t, not really.
I grip his hand tighter. “I wish I could be as brave as you are.”
I’m not brave.
“Oh, yes you are. Look at everything you do. You take care of everyone. You go to school, despite not being able to talk. You’ve protected Grace her whole life, taken care of her and Jude, and moved wherever they needed to go. You asked me for help. That took courage. You’re here now, with me, despite the fact that I’m leaving. You might be scared, but you do it anyway. That is true bravery.”
He bites his lip, considering me for a moment before typing again.Granny has been taking me to see specialists.
“That’s a good thing.”
You don’t think it makes me unstable?
“What? No. Why would you...”
He’s still typing.
I’m seeing a speech therapist, but also a psychologist.His eyes search mine, like he’s worried I’m going to think he’s not in his right mind.
Something warm melts inside me. “Uh, Beast. I’ve seen a therapist. Many times. Literally everyone I know has gone at one point or another, and most go regularly. There’s nothing wrong with working on being the best version of yourself. And sometimes that means talking to someone who can listen and advise without judgment.”
I haven’t spoken in so long, my muscles have forgotten how. But the problem is beyond that. I have to fix my mind.
My hand tenses around his again. How could he think such a thing? “There’s nothing wrong with your mind. You aren’t broken. I think you’re perfect just as you are. Even if you never spoke again, Beast, you would still be—” I cut myself off. Everything. He could be everything. But I can’t say that, I can’t even think it.
He doesn’t push me to keep my train of thought going. Instead, he quirks a lip at me and then he traces his thumb over my collarbone, rubbing my skin for a moment, like he needs the contact as much as I do, and then types again.
Every time I try to talk, a lump fills my throat and it’s like I can’t breathe. The muscles don’t matter until I can get through that wall.
I lean into him, pressing my head to his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a soothing rhythm in my ear while we both watch his phone. “I get it. And I know you can do this, if you want. I will be here to support you in any way you need. And you don’t have to tell me everything.”
Why did you go?
I know what he’s asking without him having to clarify. “Anxiety, mostly. It can be hard for me to talk to people I don’t know, or be in situations where I don’t know what to expect.”
He blinks, surprised.But you’re so
He stops typing, lifts his head, shrugs, types again.
you.
“Yeah, now. I used to take medication for my anxiety. It was really bad, especially if I had to do public speaking, or anything with a lot of people. I’d freeze up, have a panic attack, it was awful. But with the help of a therapist I was able to figure out ways to manage it. I still get nervous in large crowds sometimes, but now I can recognize the signs and do things to calm myself. Take deep breaths, take time out, confront what’s making me anxious, and try to break it down into manageable chunks.”
He nods, watching me with those intense dark eyes, like he’s memorizing my words, letting them seep into his bones. The ever-present tension gripping his shoulders slips away as I talk.
“Going to Comic-Con helped, too. Maybe because I wasn’t the only geek in the room. And with fandoms... they make you feel like you aren’t alone, you know? You’re surrounded by people who aren’t afraid to talk about how much they love things, nerdy things. It gives you this connection, without shame or embarrassment. If only we could all bond on such a level. The world would be a happier place.”
We talk longer. I tell him about the first time my dad brought me to Comic-Con and I convinced him to dress up like Hawkeye. He tells me some funny stories about Jude’s parties, but he doesn’t dive into his past, and I don’t push him. We share innocent touches and conversation until I’m hoarse.
“We should probably get home. The sun will be rising soon.”
