Page 25 of Tripped Up

“Elsy—”

“I said, not here.”

Yanking open the first door I see, I scan the small closet. I throw myself inside, and Wyatt follows at a more sedate pace, closing the door behind us.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

My throat constricts like it’s closing. I reach for the necklace I’m wearing, fiddling with the clasp, but my fingers feel thick, clumsy.

“Can you take this off?” Panic laces my voice.

“Elsy, what’s going on?” Wyatt asks. His voice sounds far away.

“Take off my fucking necklace,” I snap. “I can’t breathe.”

His big, warm body moves behind me. It takes him a few tries, but finally the dainty silver chain falls away, and I catch it in my palm.

I take in a ragged breath, trying to work air into my lungs. It’s not enough. Bending over, I set one hand on my knee, the other on the wall to brace myself.

My hair is tied up in a sleek bun that took fucking forever to do, so at least it’s not loose and getting in my way. The fabric of my dress is breathable, so I don’t feel too confined—not any more so than usual in my shapewear, at least. I kick off my uncomfortable heels and try to breathe.

Wyatt sets a hand on my shoulder. “Elsy, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring me, too.” I sound drunk. Or maybe high.

“Are you okay?”

A dark laugh spills past my tingling lips. “I’m on the brink of a panic attack and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“Is that what this is?”

I glance up at him. He has his hand in his pocket, concern sketched on his face. Calm, cool, collected. Nothing fazes him.

“Yeah. They happen sometimes,” I mutter.

“How can I help?”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

He hums, reaching for me. I’m surprised when he pulls me upright, then grabs my hand and places it over his heart.

“Can you feel that?” he whispers.

I nod. The thump, thump, thump of his heart is steady and strong.

“Just focus on my heartbeat. Breathe in.”

Inhaling, I let my lungs expand.

“And out,” he murmurs, and I exhale through my nose. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.”

Something in me lights up at his praise, cutting through the panic tingeing my every thought.

“Breathe in again.”

I inhale.

“And exhale.”