Chapter 13: VI. Connection-2

Cece was willing me to confide in her. And I really needed to talk to someone. I couldn't talk to my mom. What I was feeling went way beyond the "no boys" rule. "I didn't sleep with your brother if that's what you're thinking happened," I started quietly. Cece did look surprised. "Really?" she asked in disbelief. "I've only known him for three days!" I retorted. Was it really that much of a shock? "Oh, I get that, but when I met Jamie, I think we lasted about three hours before we fell into the supply closet on the second floor." She blushed at the memory. I gaped at her, my eyes bulging. "Three hours?" I gasped. "Hey, we don't slut shame in this family," she scolded. "Sorry, I'm not slut shaming, it's just …" What was it? Cece seemed to understand this connection if I was interpreting her correctly. When she met Jamie, she felt the same indescribably chemistry. It was so strong that they had … done the deed … within three hours of meeting. Cece made a small noise as she smiled. "I guess it really is different for you," she decided. "What is?" I asked. Cece shook her head. "Don't listen to me. Look, what you're feeling, what you're experiencing with my brother, it's all good!" she assured me. "Shea is just crazy about you. So, trust him, trust your instincts, and go at your pace." I appreciated her attempt to reassure me, but all she did was just further solidify my fear that Shea wanted more from me than I was prepared to give. He said he didn't mind, he wanted me to trust him, but how was I supposed to feel when Cece was telling me that she had consummated her relationship within three hours! I didn't want to let my anxiety ruin this, but it was hard to ignore. Trust him, trust Shea, I kept telling myself. I made it to lunch without a single person staring at me. And even if they did look, it was only for a split second before their eyes went elsewhere. Had Shea personally gone around and told everyone not to stare at me? Why would they do what he told them to? But the not staring quickly became worse than the staring. I knew they were all thinking about me. I knew they all wanted to stare. I felt like some paranoid crazy person! I was not paranoid! I had never been anything other than ordinary, going about my business and getting good grades. I stood outside the cafeteria, but I couldn't bring myself to go inside. I couldn't eat lunch, knowing that everyone in that room was thinking about me, thinking about Shea and me, and wanting to stare at us, but they couldn't because Shea said so! I had too many questions! Too many things didn't make sense. My head felt like a multiplex, a thousand different screens, each playing a different scene of my paranoia. Shea leaving. Shea pressuring me. Shea cheating. Cheating! He wasn't even officially my boyfriend. What is going on with me? I put my hand on my chest and I could feel my heart racing against it. There was condensation on my forehead and I couldn't breathe. I think I was having a panic attack. I ran from the cafeteria and into the girl's bathroom, locking myself in a stall. I put the seat down on the toilet and sat down, putting my head between my knees. I had never had a panic attack before, but I could remember my mom describing them to me. She had helped her patients through them multiple times before. I focussed on my breathing. If I could get my breathing under control, then my heart rate would lower. I knotted my fingers in my hair as I breathed, my ponytail a thing of the past. "Sara!" My heart rate quickened again, increasing my stress and anxiety. "Go away!" I cried out in a laboured voice. "Sara!" Shea banged on my toilet door, my voice giving away where I was. "Sara, let me in. What's wrong?" I didn't answer him. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on my breathing again. In and out. In and out. I was startled by the sound of metal snapping. The door to my stall suddenly opened, the lock on the inside completely ruined. Shea had broken it with his bare hands. I looked up at him and met his concerned gaze. He looked terrified as he took in the sight of me. He immediately knelt down in front of me, cupping my face in his hands. "Sara, what's going on?" he begged me to know. "What's wrong with you? Are you hurt?" What was insane was that I felt concern for him when he spoke in this tone. My nut job brain didn't want him to be afraid when I was the one who was about to earn a one-way ticket to the psych ward. "I have no idea what's wrong with me," I managed to blubber. "I feel like I'm going crazy!" He looked at me with such empathy, and such compassion. He knew exactly what I was talking about. I could see it in his eyes. "There is nothing wrong with you," he told me seriously. "I promise. Come on, let me take you home." Shea helped me off the toilet, which in any other circumstance would have been questionable, but I really needed it. My legs were like lead. We didn't go by the school office to get an early dismissal. I hoped they wouldn't call my mom if I was absent for my afternoon classes. But that anxiety felt small compared to what I was currently feeling. Shea took me directly to his truck. "I'll have Cece bring your Jeep home before your mom gets back," Shea promised as he opened the passenger door for me. His truck was huge, and it required a significant step up to get inside. Before I had a chance to even attempt it, Shea's hands were on my waist, lifting me up into the seat. He closed the door behind me and jogged around to the driver's side. The scent of his truck was comforting, and it oddly helped to calm me. One would assume a teenaged boy would smell quite gross, but Shea smelled warm and comforting. Whatever his cologne was, I liked it. The scent enveloped me and I settled into the cushioned seat. Shea started his powerful engine and backed out of his parking space. I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing as my surroundings helped me. Before I knew it, we were driving down the main street, mere minutes from my house. Shea parked on the curb, leaving the driveway empty. He helped me down from my seat and we walked together to the front door. I did feel significantly calmer. Whether it was the fact that I was away from school, or the fact that I could practically feel the waves of concern and protectiveness radiating off of Shea, I couldn't put my finger on what had helped me more. My head said the former, but everywhere else thought the latter.