I Wish You All the Best(45)

We push through the crowds in the living room. Apparently, this is the designated dance area. But neither Meleika nor Sophie seem to be here. Nathan’s right though, there is something about watching other white people who think what they’re doing can legally be called dancing.

After that, we head toward the dining room, and still nothing, but then I spot them hanging around the stairs. Meleika’s right above Sophie, both draped over the railing, both looking bored out of their minds.

“You two look like you’ve had a rough night.” Sophie leans forward, resting her head on her arms.

“And it’s not even nine.” Meleika chuckles, taking a sip of her drink. “Lightweights.”

“We had a run-in with Todd,” Nathan says, before shooting a look at Meleika. “Would’ve been shorter if someone hadn’t left us there.”

Meleika laughs again, and then asks me: “Douche of the year or douche of the year?”

I try to laugh, but that sour taste in my mouth has moved to my stomach. There’s something about the crowd that’s putting me on edge, the way everyone’s pressed together. And is it getting hotter in here?

I glance over at Nathan, watching him watch the dancing, his head bobbing along to the beat. He says something to Sophie, but the music drowns it out. Everyone’s having so much fun, and he looks like he’s missing it, like he’d rather be out there dancing with someone, actually having a good time.

And I’ve ruined it all.

“I just, um … I’m going to wait by the car. You go have fun,” I tell him.

“Ben. You okay?” Meleika asks. She and Sophie are watching me carefully.

“It’s fine. I just … I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry. I’ll just be outside, Nathan, whenever you’re ready.” I finally catch Nathan’s attention.

“Ben!” I can see the annoyance in his face, that slight push of his lips. I shouldn’t have come here. He just wanted to have a good time with his friends and I’m going to make him leave early.

“Sorry, sorry.” I push through the dancing and the tight crowds, muttering apologies as I go along. I hope I can find my way back outside.

“Ben, wait.” Nathan grabs my hand again, but I pull it back.

“Listen, go have a good time, okay? I’ll just wait by the car.”

“Ben!” he says again, more desperate than I’ve ever heard him sound. I charge back down the hallway, pushing past the crowds.

“Hey!” someone yells.

“Sorry, sorry,” I say, trying to get to the door. God, it’s fucking burning up in here. The hallways feel like they’re closing in on me. I just need to get outside. Just get outside, and it will all be fine.

“Ben!” Nathan shouts, sounding miles away this time.

My hands finally find a door handle and I push through, almost collapsing into the cool night air. I catch myself against the railing; more people stare at me as I pass by them. I still can’t tell if I’m at the front of the house, or at the back, but I don’t care.

I’m not inside anymore; that’s what’s important.

“You gonna be sick, man?” someone asks me. “If you’ve gotta barf, at least do it in the bushes.”

“I’m not a man,” I whisper under my breath, rounding the corner. This side of the porch is deserted, thankfully. I retch, hanging myself over the railing. There’s nothing in my stomach but that disgusting tequila, but it threatens to come up anyway. It wasn’t even that much, was it? But that’s not it.

No, this feels like something else, like that night I saw their car. Fuck.

Not now.

Dr. Taylor confirmed it was a panic attack and tried to teach me ways of coping. Get to a quiet spot if I can, close my eyes, try to breathe. I try my best to remember Dr. Taylor’s advice, but everything’s so crowded and foggy.

Just breathe.

“Just breathe,” I say out loud. “Breathe.” I take in the night air through my nose and hold it for ten seconds before exhaling through my mouth. “Come on, Ben, don’t freak out, please. Not now,” I tell myself.

“Ben, are you okay?” It’s Nathan.

“Just, please.” I don’t even know what I’m trying to ask him. I run a hand through my hair, my palms sweaty. Christ, I probably look like death.

“Ben?” He puts his hand to my back, and I swear, I almost get sick right there.

“Please don’t touch me right now, okay?” It comes out like more of a growl than I want it to.

Nathan pulls his hand back, going to the empty spot on the railing beside me. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I just …” Just can’t get a complete thought from my brain to my mouth.

“Was it the stuff you drank? Do you need some water?”

I shake my head way too fast. “Wasn’t the drinks.” My chest heaves for a second. I’m fighting a losing battle here.

“Are you sure? Can you move?”

“Just give me a minute, please?”

“Sure, yeah.” He backs away.

Fucking breathe, just breathe. I close my eyes, pressing my hands to my forehead. Don’t cry, don’t cry. I feel that familiar heat behind my eyes, and that ache in my jaw.

I finally manage to spit out something. “I’m sorry.”