Page 19 of Riot Reunion
“Go on then. Talk about Chase.”
“All right. All right.Fine. Presley and I are...we’re...” He shifts awkwardly in his seat, tugging at his greatcoat again.
“You're having...problems?”
“What’s with the tone? Are you insinuating that my girlfriend and I aren't having great sex? Because I can assure you now, my dick is in full working order. It performs fuckingperfectly.”
“No, I wouldn't dream of it. I was just wondering…y’know…this seems like some sort of, well,personalissue, and I would hate to get involved in anything that Presley might consider...private, and—”
“Are you always this awkward?” Pax seems astonished that I'm having trouble here. It's not every day that a guy like him tracks you down in a city of millions and demands a private audience, though. This is hardly easy for me.
“How about you just have a think about what it is, exactly, that you want to say and how you want to say it, and then you just spit it out?”
“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” He sits back on the sofa, throwing his head back so that it's resting on one of the throw pillows Wren was using as a book prop earlier. He closes his eyes. For a tense, long few seconds, he just sits there like that, completely still, processing what he wants to say like I told him to. Eventually, just as I'm starting to getreallyantsy, he cracks one eye and fixes it on me. “I’m in love with Presley,” he rushes out.
“I’d gathered that.”
“I've never been in love with anybody before.”
Pretty sure you’ve always loved yourself. I thinkthatcounts.That’s what Iwantto say. I'm too smart to actually let the words past my lips. “Everyone has a first?” I offer instead. “Love can be tricky—”
“I'm notstupid,” he growls. “I'm just having a hard time…” He shakes his head. “I keep trying to call her, and she’s always in a rush to get out of the door. Or she’s late for class. Or she’s tired. Or her phone’s turned off, and I don’t even catch her. And I keep having thesefeelings,” he says. “Late at night, when I'm trying to fall asleep.”
“What kind offeelings?”
The Anarchist of Wolf Hall clenches his jaw—he'll be cracking teeth soon if he's not careful. “Like, my mind won't stop racing,” he admits. “I can't stop thinking about what she's doing, or where she is, or who she's with. I keep thinking about her studying in the library or something, and some dude I don't know catching sight of her sitting by the English Lit stacks, and him thinking to himself that she looks beautiful, and him going over to her, and her looking up at him and smiling, because she's a friendly, nice fucking person, not an awful, rude cunt like me, and—” He struggles to swallow. “And—and I imagine him asking her what her name is, and then striking up a conversation, and then eventually he asks her out, and—” Pax blows out his cheeks, shuddering, like he's trapped in a waking nightmare. “It's fucking awful. Really, really fucking awful. My heart starts racing. My hands start sweating. I can’t stop pacing back and forth in my bedroom for hours. I don't feel like eating. I think I'm going fucking crazy.”
Oh boy.
Oh boy, oh boy, ohboy.
If I were any less focused on pressing my lips together as hard as I can, I know for a stone-cold fact that I would be laughing. Pax Davis has got it fuckingbad.
“It gets to the point where it's three in the morning, and I know she's in bed, asleep, but I feel like I'm going out of my mind, and I know the only way I'll be able to knock the fuck out is if I call her and I hear her voice. But I can't do that. I can never do that, because that would look fuckinginsane, and there's no goddamn way I'm letting Chase know that I'm apparently fucking unhinged now. So my heart rate gets even faster, and I feel like I can't breathe, and then the next thing I know I'm sitting in the fucking shower, fully dressed, blasting myself with ice water just so I can get my brain to calm the fuck down.”
Not too long ago, Pax barely knew that Presley existed. He knew that she liked him, and he tormented her for it. She was head over heels in love with the guy, and he treated her like she didn’t even exist. Now Presley is happily living her life at Sarah Lawrence, secure and content in the knowledge that she got the guy of her dreams. Meanwhile, Pax is coming apart at the seams. Oh, the irony. I wonder if Presley hasanyidea that this is going on.
“Sounds like you've been having panic attacks,” I say evenly. “Perhaps you're feeling a little anxious because of the distance between the two of you right now.”
“I know what a panic attack feels like,” he retorts. “I'm not having a fucking panic attack over agirl.”
Again, I tried to hide the smirk building at the corners of my mouth. “You sure about that?”
He looks like he's about to jump up and storm out. Or maybe try and murder me. I can already feel the pressure of his inked-up hands closing tight around my throat, squeezing the life out of me. Eyes the color of a restless sea, hard as steel, narrow at me. “I don't have panic attacks, Stillwater. I'm not some weak ass, pussy son of a bitch, all right? I think I can handle the simple fact that my girlfriend is far away, and I haven't seen her in forever, don't you?”
I need to come at this from a different angle. Pax wants me to help him. He wouldn't have come all the way from New York if he didn't. He just can't handle telling me the truth. Somehow, he's managed to describe how he's feeling and how it's affecting him, but putting a name to it is far too intimidating. It isn't going to happen. I’ll just have to work within the confines of what hewilladmit to.
I let loose a deep sigh. “Okay. Pretend we're talking about someone else. Someone super sensitive and in touch with their feelings.”
Pax nods, leaning forward. “Right. Lord Lovett. Complete pussy.”
I sigh. “Dash it is. Okay, So, let's imagine that Dash and Carrie aren’t living together in London right now. Let's say that Dash is in L.A. and Carrie’s in, I don't know, Toronto. It's the first time they've been apart since they got together properly, and Dash is feeling a little insecure—”
“Insecure?Insecure?” Pax looks like he's about to throw up. “I amnotfeeling insecure.”
“Shut the hell up, Davis. Do you wanna do this or not?”
He pulls a face. “What doyouthink?”
