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I suck in my lips, embarrassment flushing my neck. “Sometimes when I overthink, catastrophize, or get triggered by something upsetting—like fighting with my mom or seeing Ben with Olivia—my stomach starts to hurt a lot and it becomes urgent,” I say quickly.

“What becomes urgent?” he asks, looking a little puzzled.

“Like, you know.” I expand my eyes, hoping he’ll catch on so I don’t have to say it.

“No. I don’t.”

“The bathroom, Axel. My need to go to the bathroom becomes urgent.”

“Oh,” he responds, his eyes almost as wide as mine, but only for a moment before his face returns to status quo.

“It’s why I follow strict routines and try to have my life laid out for me, because if I veer off that path, then I’d have to deal with the side effects that come with my anxiety, and sometimes there isn’t an accessible toilet when you need one. Which makes me more anxious and makes the stomach cramps worse and that’s why…”

“That’s why you’re asking me so many questions about how tonight is going to pan out.”

“Exactly,” I say, feeling a mix between embarrassed and vulnerable and relieved. Relieved that he seems to get it.

“Would it help if I asked you to trust me?”

Okay. Maybe he doesn’t get it.

“Look,” Axel says, turning his body slightly so he’s closing in on me. “I have a plan. A really well-thought-out plan. But if at any point you don’t feel safe or you feel like one of your stomachaches might come on, I’ll stop everything and find you a toilet. We can even come up with a code word for it. How’s ‘green apple’?”

I look down at my scraped-up knees with old scars I am sometimes tempted to pick at again and laugh. “It’s terrible.”

He smiles and takes my hand, rubbing my palms to smooth out the nail indentations. “What you said before about how all people experience anxiety, it’s true. Even me. One of my coping mechanisms for stress is dancing, and the other is music.” Axel pulls earbuds out of a tiny case. “Here,” he says, passing me one.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I mean, it’s supposed to go in your ear, but if you’d like, I could suggest other places to stick it in.”

“Watch it,” I say, before placing the earbud in my left ear. Axel does the same with his. He opens the music app on his phone and hits Play.

“What do you think?” he asks, as the song begins.

“Sounds like country music,” I quip.

“Listen to the lyrics,” he says, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Most songs tell a story. It’s not only the music that’s making you feel things. It’s the emotion in the singer’s voice.”

“Who is this?” I ask, resisting the urge to tap my toes in sync with his.

“Blue Rodeo. I listened to their greatest hits last night to prepare for the concert. This one is called ‘Til I Am Myself Again.’ It reminds me of you,” he says, stealing a sideways glance at me.

“Why?” I ask, sitting up straight in my seat.

“Just close your eyes and listen,” he says, remaining mostly still, aside from the tapping toes and the strumming of his fingers along his knees.

I slump in my seat, trying to decipher the lyrics. After a couple of verses, my back straightens again and I turn to Axel. “This song is clearly about some lost soul who doesn’t know who they are. I know who I am,” I say, pointing a finger at my chest before leaning back in my seat. “I guess I should be grateful you didn’t tell me to listen to some cheesy love song and say it reminded you of me.”

“Because then you’d just laugh in my face, right?” he asks, his expression and body language stiffening.

I open my mouth to say something but can’t quite find the right words. Hard to know what to say when you’ve clearly offended someone but you don’t know why.

“We’re next,” he says, holding out his hand. I place the earbud in his palm and he tucks it away in the case before bolting up. I follow him out of the streetcar.

After we walk for a bit, he points to a sign.Harbourfront Water Taxi.

“We’re taking a water taxi?” I ask.