Page 40 of Safety Net (Mendell Hawks #3)

CELESTE

"You should come out with me tonight." It was hard to hear Lincoln over the already large crowd of whatever house party he'd found himself in. "I want to introduce you to some people."

I only hesitated for a second. "Alright."

The smile in his voice made it even harder to hear him. "Yeah? You sure?"

"Positive." I tried to smile at myself, flooding my brain with thoughts of positivity and feigning self-belief in an attempt to outdo the twisted, cruel beliefs.

If Lincoln and I were going to have a real chance of lasting, I'd have to try to exist in his world.

I'd have to meet him where he was, like he'd met me.

So, I ignored the butterflies wreaking havoc in my nervous system.

I focused hard on keeping my hand steady as I applied makeup, ensuring my pink and purple eyeshadow blended seamlessly.

Lined my lips with a nude color and swiped on a couple coats of clear gloss.

My high anxiety outfits consisted of tops with sleeves long enough to hide my fingers (just in case the trembling was too frequent).

The white, flowy one I chose provided the right amount of warmth for the chill of a late summer night.

I slipped on a pair of wide-leg jeans that Naomi had painted butterflies on the back pockets.

Naomi video chatted with me when I got to taking down my twists. She sat in Finn's car with her hair up and a pair of hoop earrings on (the telltale sign she'd also agreed to a night out).

"You look adorable. You're really coming?" She tried to balance the phone on the dashboard. It fell a few times before she gave up with a laugh. I smiled too; my chest felt a bit less like it was underneath a twenty-ton weight.

“As soon as my hair's done." I could hear the buzz of people outside her car.

Her smile grew at my words. "I can't believe he convinced you to come."

"I want to be there for him. Trying to," I said. "And who knows, maybe I'll like going out and being around people?"

"Sure. Or maybe, you'll hang out for a bit and go back home because being here for even a minute is more than enough."

"You think so?" I asked, unable to hide the hint of hope in my tone.

"Even a second of Celeste is enough to make me happy," she promised. "I know Lincoln feels the same."

My chest loosened, breathing becoming obtainable once more. Feeling enough and being enough were two separate things; Naomi always managed to sew them together for me in less than a minute.

We talked until I was in my car. Once on the road, I gOt through my playlist of comfort musicals—a little Phantom of the Opera, Wicked, and Hamilton.

By the time the Prince of Egypt began, I pulled onto the noisy block.

My window vibrated from the music outside, disrupting my listening party with much more bass and intensity.

Since on-street parking was full, I found a spot a block away at a park.

It was late enough that mosquitoes were buzzing about.

I saw a few fireflies too, hovering around the trees in the neighborhood.

Music vibrated through my chest as I approached the house. The two-story ranch-style house stood behind an iron gate, left open so people in the yard could filter in and out as they pleased.

Unlike the neighborhood Naomi and the guys rented in, this one was a well-known area for college students.

The street was within walking distance of campus.

Older cars, with the occasional flashy one, lined all the driveways on the street.

With the fall semester around the corner, Tinsel was about to become crowded once more.

I wouldn't be able to find quiet corners as easily, but hopefully I wouldn't need them as much.

That hope was tied to Lincoln and the smile he gave me the second he saw me coming up the walk.

He'd been waiting for me on the front porch, surrounded by a group of guys who looked vaguely familiar (more of his teammates).

As soon as he saw me, he broke away from the group. Lincoln wrapped his arms around me. I could barely hear what he said between the music, people, and the fact that he'd buried his face into my hair.

"What did you say?" I pulled back enough to glance up at him.

Lincoln's eyes were a bit red with exhaustion.

But his smile and the energetic kisses he pressed against my forehead led me to believe tiredness wouldn't be much cause for concern.

He was in his element once more. With hockey season right around the corner, Lincoln seemed infused with energy from the people around it again.

"I'm happy you're here." Lincoln kissed my lips this time. He tasted sweet and smelled of alcohol. The drink in his hand was half full. When he saw me eyeing it, he offered to grab one for me.

"I'm good," I said.

He nodded and kissed the top of my head before asking, "Can I introduce you to a few people? I've been telling some of the guys on the team about your music and how brilliant you are."

"Oh…sure, of course." I tried to keep my voice steady. There was no reason for me to devolve into panic yet. No reason for my chest to sting with burning air and my throat swell from the anticipation of 'hi' and 'my name is' and 'whatever I have to say to help you think I'm a normal human being.'

Lincoln grabbed my hand and said, "Squeeze if you want to go, and we'll leave in a heartbeat."

I took a breath and smiled, grateful for some sort of plan. Heavens knew my brain wasn't exactly in the state to come up with one.

Lincoln led me up the stairs and to the group of guys.

There were six of them, and I started forgetting names as soon as Lincoln began introducing them.

I smiled, or at least tried to smile. I didn't have much control over my face.

As Lincoln went on about the musical, my hands started to tremble.

The one linked with his was relatively stable thanks to his secure grip.

But I tucked my free hand into my sleeves, clutching the fingers into a fist.

I tried to find something to focus on during the conversation, an external life jacket when my internal one of positive affirmations deflated.

The guy on our left said he'd grown up in New York. His parents would often take him to the theatre.

I built up the courage to ask, "Do you miss it?"

He looked at me blankly and asked, "What did you say?"

Between the music and the people, even my "loud" voice had no chance of being heard. I tried again. It wasn’t successful.

All the guys looked confused, and my skin was so hot I was surprised Lincoln's hand didn't have third-degree burns.

It's not a question worth repeating. No depth or substance to it to warrant this amount of time spent on recovering the words. It was as if I’d stopped us to admire a small hill when the view of majestic, snow-capped mountains was right around the corner.

"Do you miss New York?" Lincoln gave my hand a comforting squeeze as he repeated my question for me.

I couldn't even pay attention to the full answer because the guy started with, "No, never. Like I said, I was counting down the seconds until I was out of there."

With all the overstimulation, I hadn't remembered him saying that before I asked the question.

It was a small mistake that catapulted me into the depths of embarrassment.

I tried to anchor myself by focusing on how my hand fit in Lincoln's, with a perfect overlap of fingers and alignment of palms, and how I was close enough to smell the warmth in his cologne and the spice of his aftershave.

Our group kept changing throughout the night.

Most of the people Lincoln spoke to, I didn't know.

Naomi and Finn migrated in our direction for a little bit.

She took one look at me and leaned in to whisper, "Finn and I are heading out.

You want to leave with us? We could hang out back at our place. "

I forced myself to smile; it worked this time. "It's okay."

"You sure?" She pulled back to get a good look at my face.

I nodded and glanced over at Lincoln, who was completely enmeshed in a debate he started on whether childhood is better with chemical-colored cereal. He kept switching sides, mostly to annoy his fellow debaters.

"I'm going to stay a bit longer. Try to challenge myself.

" I hadn't been part of a conversation I started on my own. And every discussion Lincoln managed to rope me into had my senses too overwhelmed to process in time to formulate something worthy of saying. Coming here had been solely for Lincoln, but somewhere after the fifth or sixth experience of my throat becoming too tight to share my name, I decided I needed to be here for me as well. It’d taken me a summer to become brave enough to click a submit button.

It'd take even longer to develop a voice strong enough to withstand my cyclone of social inadequacy.

"And I need to talk to Lincoln before the night's over," I added. "Check in about sets for the musical."

We looked over a Lincoln who was in a deep one-on-one with a guy on the football team who swore he also grew up with a ghost. Apparently, his family had hired a team of ghost hunters called the Jones Family back when people used landlines and phone books.

"It might take me a month or two to detangle him from all of this," I joked.

Naomi smiled and nodded in agreement, "Okay, but if you change your mind and get tired of waiting, let me know."

I hugged her goodbye and watched as she made the escape I so desperately craved since I'd set foot inside the house.