Chapter 5 The Wellness Buddy (Brynn POV)
I arrived at the main lobby at 8:57 AM, three minutes early because I refused to give Jaxon Hale the satisfaction of calling me late. My backpack felt heavier than usual, weighed down by textbooks I'd grabbed without really looking at my schedule, and the medical watch paperwork crinkled in my jacket pocket every time I moved.
The lobby was mostly empty at this hour, just a few early-bird students getting coffee from the corner cafe and a maintenance worker changing light bulbs near the stairwell. I chose a spot by the window where I could watch the entrance, trying to look casual while my stomach twisted itself into knots.
This was ridiculous. It was just a study session. Mandatory peer support. Nothing to be anxious about.
Except my hands were shaking.
Jaxon appeared at exactly nine o'clock, because of course he did. He wore jeans and a dark blue henley that somehow looked both casual and expensive, his hair slightly damp like he'd just showered. He spotted me immediately and headed over, his movements fluid and confident in a way that made me feel gangly and awkward by comparison.
"Morning," he said, his Southern drawl softer than it had been last night. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be." I stood, adjusting my backpack. "Where are we doing this?"
"Library's usually pretty empty this time of day. Third floor has study rooms." He gestured toward the main building. "After you."
We walked in silence, and I was hyper-aware of the space between us maybe two feet, close enough that I could smell his cologne or aftershave or whatever it was. Something cedar and clean that made my head feel fuzzy.
Stop it, I told myself. Focus.
The library was indeed mostly empty, just a couple of grad students camped out near the periodicals and a freshman asleep on a couch with a chemistry textbook on his face. We took the stairs to the third floor, where study rooms lined a quiet hallway.
Jaxon opened the door to room 3C, flipping on the lights to reveal a small space with a table, four chairs, and a whiteboard on one wall. Institutional and impersonal, which somehow made me feel better. Neutral ground.
"So." He set his backpack on the table and pulled out a laptop. "What classes are you struggling with?"
"I'm not struggling." The words came out more defensive than intended. "My grades are fine."
"Okay." He held up his hands in surrender. "What classes do you have homework in?"
I pulled out my schedule, scanning it even though I'd memorized it weeks ago. "Calculus, English Lit, Chemistry, European History, and Spanish."
"Let's start with Calculus." He opened his laptop and pulled up what looked like a digital planner. "What are you working on right now?"
"Derivatives."
"Love derivatives." His expression brightened slightly, the first genuine emotion I'd seen from him since yesterday. "They're like puzzles. You just need to know which rules to apply."
"They're like torture devices designed to make me question my life choices."
He actually smiled at that, a quick flash of amusement that transformed his face from intimidating to almost approachable. "Show me your homework."
I pulled out my Calculus notebook, flipping to the problem set that was due tomorrow. Half the problems had question marks next to them, and the other half had been attempted and then aggressively erased.
Jaxon studied the page, his brow furrowing slightly. "Okay, so the chain rule is giving you trouble."
"Everything is giving me trouble."
"Let's work through one together." He pulled the notebook closer, then seemed to realize how near that brought him to me. He shifted slightly, maintaining distance, but I could still feel the warmth radiating from his body.
The awareness was overwhelming. I could hear his breathing, steady and controlled. Could smell that cedar scent stronger now, mixed with something else something wild that reminded me of pine forests and mountain air.
Focus on the math. Focus on anything else.
"So when you have a composite function," Jaxon was saying, his pen moving across the paper, "you take the derivative of the outer function, then multiply it by the derivative of the inner function..."
I tried to follow along, I really did. But every time his arm moved, every time his sleeve brushed against mine, a jolt of electricity shot through me. It wasn't painful, exactly, but it was intense like sticking my finger in a light socket except instead of wanting to pull away, I wanted to lean closer.
What the hell was wrong with me?
"Brynn?" Jaxon's voice pulled me back. "Did you follow that?"
"Yeah. Totally." I had not followed that at all.
He studied my face, his amber eyes too perceptive. "Try the next problem."
I picked up my pencil and stared at the equation, but the numbers and symbols might as well have been hieroglyphics. My skin was too warm, my heart beating too fast, and I swore I could hear Jaxon's heartbeat too a steady rhythm that seemed to synchronize with mine.
"I can't concentrate," I admitted finally, setting down the pencil. "This is weird."
"What's weird?"
"This." I gestured between us. "You being my wellness buddy. The mandatory study sessions. All of it."
"School policy." His tone was neutral, but something flickered behind his eyes.
"Is it always you?" I asked. "Do they always assign the lacrosse captain to be wellness buddy for problem students?"
"You're not a problem student."
"That's not what my file says."
"Your file says you had a panic attack in response to emotional trauma." He closed my Calculus notebook carefully. "That doesn't make you a problem."
The gentleness in his voice caught me off guard. I'd expected judgment, maybe pity, but this felt like genuine understanding.
"Harper said you're rich," I said, changing the subject because his kindness was somehow harder to handle than hostility. "That your family owns half of North Carolina."
His expression shuttered immediately. "Harper talks a lot."
"Are you? Rich?"
"My family has resources." He picked up his pen, clicking it repeatedly. "But I'm here on scholarship like everyone else who needs it."
"You're on scholarship?" I couldn't hide my surprise. "But Harper said"
"My family's wealth isn't personal wealth." His jaw tightened. "It belongs to... the business. The company. Whatever you want to call it. I get an allowance, but college? That's on me to earn."
There was something bitter in his tone, something that suggested complicated family dynamics. It made him seem more human, less like the golden boy who had everything handed to him.
"So we're both charity cases," I said.
"We're both working for what we want." He met my gaze. "There's a difference."
We fell into silence, and I became aware of sounds I shouldn't be able to hear conversations from the first floor, the hum of the ventilation system, someone's phone buzzing in a backpack three doors down. Everything was too loud, too sharp.
I pressed my palms against my temples. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Everything." I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "The people downstairs, the lights buzzing, someone's listening to music through earbuds in the" I pointed vaguely toward the east wall. "room over there."
Jaxon went very still. "What are they listening to?"
"How should I know? Some kind of rock music. Why does it matter?" I paced to the window, trying to escape the sensory overload. "Something's wrong with me."
"You're stressed. Your senses are heightened because of anxiety."
"That's not how anxiety works." I turned to face him. "This is something else."
He stood slowly, his hands raised like he was approaching a skittish animal. "Let's take a break. Get some air."
"I don't need air. I need" I broke off, because I didn't know what I needed. To understand what was happening to me. To stop feeling like I was coming apart at the seams. To stop being so aware of Jaxon that it physically hurt to be in the same room.
"Yesterday," I said quietly. "During the assembly. Did you feel something?"
"Feel what?"
"Something weird. Wrong. Like the air was..." I struggled to find the words. "Electric."
His expression gave nothing away. "It was an intense situation."
"That's not an answer."
"What do you want me to say, Brynn?"
"I want you to tell me the truth." I moved closer, and he tensed. "Did you see what I think I saw? Did I actually" I dropped my voice to a whisper. "change?"
The silence stretched between us, heavy with things unsaid. Jaxon's amber eyes held mine, and for a moment I saw something there recognition, maybe, or fear.
"The official report says you had a panic attack with hallucinations," he said finally.
"I know what the official report says. I'm asking what you saw."
He looked away first, jaw clenched. "I saw someone having a mental health crisis. That's all."
"You're lying."
"And you're looking for explanations that don't exist." His voice hardened. "Sometimes a panic attack is just a panic attack, Brynn. Sometimes there's no deeper meaning."
But something in his eyes said otherwise. Something that told me he knew exactly what had happened, and he was choosing to pretend he didn't.
"Fine." I grabbed my backpack, shoving my notebook inside. "If that's how we're playing this."
"Where are you going?"
"To my room. This isn't working."
"We have another hour scheduled." He checked his watch. "If you leave early, I have to report it to Dr. Reeves."
The threat stopped me at the door. Of course. The mandatory wellness buddy program wasn't just about helping me—it was about monitoring me. Making sure I stayed in line.
"You're reporting on me," I said flatly.
"I'm documenting our sessions, yes. That's part of the program."
"So you're a spy."
"I'm a student volunteer fulfilling a community service requirement." But he wouldn't meet my eyes. "Can you please sit back down?"
I wanted to refuse. Wanted to storm out and deal with whatever consequences came. But expulsion meant losing everything—my education, my future, the tiny bit of stability I'd managed to build.
So I sat.
We suffered through another forty-five minutes of pretending to study. Jaxon explained derivatives again, his voice patient even as the tension between us grew suffocating. Every accidental brush of hands when passing papers sent sparks across my skin. Every time he leaned close to point at something in my textbook, I had to fight the urge to either push him away or pull him closer.
By the time we finished, I felt wrung out and exhausted.
"Same time tomorrow?" Jaxon asked as we packed up.
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really." He slung his backpack over one shoulder. "For what it's worth, you did good work today. The last three problems were correct."
I'd barely remember doing them. "Great. Gold star for the problem student."
"Brynn." He caught my arm as I turned to leave, and the contact sent electricity racing up to my shoulder. We both froze, and I saw his pupils dilate slightly before he jerked his hand back. "Sorry. I just" He swallowed hard. "You're not a problem. Stop calling yourself that."
Then he left quickly, almost like he was running away.
I stood alone in the study room, my arm still tingling where he'd touched me, and wondered which of us was more trapped by this arrangement.