Page 16 of Running Into You
“You wound me, Betts.” He pretends to wince as he places his hand over his heart. “What have I done to inspire such scorn?”
“You once locked me in a closet until I shared my Skittles with you.”
“First of all, they were Sour Patch Kids.” He sits next to me in the booth, forcing me to scootch into the corner. “Second, it was a really nice closet.” He talks to Maggie now, using his hands. “Arguably the nicest closet in the entire house. There was built-in shelving and a light in it and everything.”
“It sounds really nice.” Maggie nods traitorously.
“Thank you.” Then smiling innocently back at me. “And I let you out as soon as you agreed to share.”
“But then you took more than I said you could.”
“I only took a handful!”
“Your hands are enormous!”
“No, yours are just freakishly tiny.” I try to ignore the electric current that passes through me as he takes my hand against his and compares them. My fingers are delicate and more than an inch shorter than his strong, tanned ones. “I don’t even understand how you complete basic tasks with these.” I laugh along with him. He does not let go of my hand. Our eyes lock and the laughter fades, but the heat begins rising from my stomach. Josh is looking at me with such intensity, I know he’s feeling it too. I become vaguely aware of Maggie gathering her things across the table.
“Babe, I have to go! I’m so sorry!” She is beaming and doesn’t look sorry at all. “I forgot I was going to fit in a couple of batches of soap this afternoon.” She looks at Josh. “So glad to have met you.”
“Likewise,” Josh says, his hand still on mine. “I hope to see you again sometime.”
“Count on it.” She winks at him and heads to the counter to pay for her meal. I see her exchange air kisses with Natalia and head for the door, giving me a meaningful look before she disappears.
“Can I walk you home?” Josh asks, now looking at my pale hand curled beneath his tanned one.
“No, I’ll walk you home.” I smile. “I know the neighborhood better.”
We rise from the booth, and I grab my purse. Checking my phone, I see that I’ve just received a text from Maggie that reads “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!”
We arrive at the apartment ten minutes later. It’s as if yesterday didn’t happen at all. We spent the walk back talking about his preparations for the week ahead. He seems a bit nervous but mostly excited about the new job. It’s easy to tell when Josh is excited about something because not only can you hear it in his voice, but he talks with his hands, making big gestures and movements. I’m envious of his enthusiasm for his job. Don’t get me wrong, I like my job. It’s interesting and rewarding and I’m good at it. But it doesn’t excite me. I don’t wake up and feel eager to race to the office. I can’t think of anything that I’d necessarily want to do more, certainly not in the same salary bracket, but if I won the lottery tomorrow, would I continue to be a business analyst? Probably not.
He follows me inside, still talking about the class sizes and sports teams. I offer him tea or one of his own beers, but he declines, and I go to the kitchen to make myself one.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks as I turn the kettle on. He’s followed me into the kitchen and is now leaning on the back wall with his hands in his jogger’s pockets.
“Shoot.” I shrug, knowing what comes next.
“How long have you been having panic attacks?” His voice is casual but soft.
“Seven years,” I answer honestly. “Shortly after my mother left my dad.” He nods.
“That must have been really hard on you,” he replies. It was. One day she was there, the next she was gone. I mean, not that she was ever really there. When she wasn’t teaching, she was advising students or working on one committee or another. She was gone most evenings and weekends. Still, having my dad sit me down to tell me that my mother was divorcing him came as a complete surprise. Finding out from the woman herself the following week that she was involved with one of her grad students was a devastating blow.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Elizabeth.” She’d rolled her eyes when I’d started to cry. “You’re not a child anymore. Stop making everything about you.”
“They happened pretty frequently in the beginning,” I admit. “Anytime I felt stressed, I would have one. School, crowds, anything could trigger them. Driving was especially hard for me.” I leave out the fact that I haven’t driven in more than four years. I’ve never been great at talking about my anxiety, but Josh’s calm presence sets me at ease. I trust him. “I took anti-anxiety meds for a while, went to therapy, did yoga. Each helped in their own way. And little by little, they became less frequent.” I meet his eyes. He hasn’t moved from his position on the wall. “What you witnessed yesterday was my first one in almost eighteen months.” I’m smiling a little now because I’m proud of that. I have come so far from the frightened, out-of-control girl who thought everything was her fault.
“Thank you for telling me,” he finally says. “If there is ever anything I can do to help, please let me know.” He swallows. “I’d do anything for you, Betty.” His expression is so sincere it makes me want to run into the safety and warmth of his arms, but I don’t.
“I know.” That is all I say. I want to tell him all the thoughts in my head and every feeling in my heart, but I don’t do that either.
“Good.” His voice is raspier than it was a moment ago and he clears his throat. “So, what should I pack for lunch tomorrow?”
Chapter 10
Betty
“Acquiring these accounts will be a major feather in the firm’s cap.” Wallace has given this pep talk every week for the past three months. Our team lead desperately wants to land an IT Corporation that has offices all over the country. There have been no new developments, but the balding man in his early fifties always makes it sound like we’re making progress. I secretly wish that this weekly meeting could be a monthly email.
