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eleven

Elsy

There’s nothing on TV, I don’t have any friends in town, and I don’t know what to do with my time. When I’m busy, it’s easier to push the anxious thoughts to the back of my brain, but the second I have nothing else going on, they all come rushing in. The longer I go without a break, the stronger they attack. It’s why I keep myself busy from the moment I wake until I’m ready for bed. Allowing myself down time allows me to spiral.

Anxiety is my nemesis as much as it’s a comfort. I’m intimately familiar with the way my brain ruminates on every possible way life can go wrong. No matter what it is—a car ride across town, a performance in front of a packed hall, the idea of dating again—the dark thoughts settle me as much as they set me off. I know my patterns.

Is it healthy? No. Am I going to do something about it? Also no.

This morning, I met with two prospective students. One signed on to work with me, but the other is still mulling it over. After rehearsal, I ran a few errands and then came back to my cold, lonely apartment. I can’t believe it, but I actually miss having roommates. There was always someone around to entertain me.

Anastasia and Katrina are out of town, enjoying a quick getaway for their anniversary. And I haven’t connected with anyone else yet, not on the level where I’d be comfortable asking them to dinner or to grab coffee.

Well, that’s not entirely true… I do know someone who’s always around. With a sigh, I pick up my phone to text Wyatt. I don’t want to do this. Especially after he witnessed my epic meltdown last week, I don’t want to go to him again.

He promised to look out for me, after all. And as patronizing as it is… I kind of like the idea of someone taking care of me. Only a little bit. Not coddling, only… supporting.

Pulling up his contact, I stare at his name. Can I really do this? Is it worth putting myself out there? What if he says no? What if he mocks me for the rest of eternity?

Blowing out a breath, I click on his name, and my phone rings out with a dial tone. The call connects on the second ring.

“Elsy?” His voice is hoarse, the roughness sending heat rushing through me. That night… his just been fucked voice sounds a lot like this. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I pick at a loose thread on my throw blanket.

“You’re calling me. Something’s wrong.”

This was a mistake.

“It was an accident. I’m hanging up now.”

But I don’t move the phone away from my ear.

His throaty chuckle does funny things to my heart rate. “No, you’re not,” he says, his voice soft, with an undercurrent of authority that makes my stomach clench.

“No, I’m not,” I agree.

A rustle sounds on the other end. “So what’s going on?”

My face heats. “I’m bored,” I finally admit. “Do you want to do something?”

My heart pounds like I’ve run a marathon. Anxiety spikes within me, but it’s not a panic attack, only run-of-the-mill worry. I don’t think I can handle it if he says no. I know he’s going to mock me for this.

“I’m in Dallas,” Wyatt says. It almost sounds like he’s upset about that. “I get back tomorrow morning. Do you…” He clears his throat. “Would you like to hang out tomorrow?”

“I can do that,” I whisper.

“Great,” he says. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Whoa. I wouldn’t go that far.” I laugh. “It’s only hanging out. Don’t propose or anything.”

“Elsy,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “When I propose, it won’t be a surprise.”

My stomach swoops. He said when . Not if . What does that mean? We’re not dating. We’re not anything. In fact, I hate him. Does that mean he’s thought about proposing to me , though?

No. That’s ridiculous. He can’t stand me, just like I can’t stand him. He must be talking about a girlfriend.

“Are you dating anyone?”

He coughs. “Yeah, her name is hockey,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh.”

“It’s kind of hard to have an actual relationship when I’m on the road so much.” He sounds… regretful. “I haven’t tried it in a few seasons. I usually stick to a friends-with-benefits situation.”

“Oh.” I don’t know how to respond to that.

“Why, are you offering?” He laughs, like the idea is so ludicrous, he can’t possibly imagine it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snap. “You and I are never going to sleep together.”

Not again. I won’t let myself be hurt that way ever again.

Silence falls over the line, the sound of his breathing steady and sure. It should be awkward, but it’s not. It’s strangely comforting knowing he’s on the other end of the phone.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“The other night.” Wyatt clears his throat. “The panic attack.”

“It happens sometimes.” I pick at the loose thread again. I feel like I’m this close to unraveling myself. “Thanks for… you know.”

“Have you seen someone about them?”

“Yeah. I take daily meds for it.” Somehow, it doesn’t feel weird talking about this. Vulnerable, yeah. Usually, I want to lock it up in a box and throw away the key. Knowing Wyatt’s struggled with panic attacks of his own… for some reason, it makes me feel like I can trust him with this.

“Do you have rescue meds?”

“They make me crash. I think the dosage is too high. I’m trying to get established with a psychiatrist here.” I exhale slowly. “If it didn’t happen at work, I would have taken the meds. But I didn’t think it would be a good idea to pass out on the stage. That would have made things worse.”

I made it through my performance, but as soon as I got the go ahead from Hilary, I hightailed it out of there.

His deep chuckle sends tingles through my bloodstream. “I feel that. We have smelling salts on the bench. It’s not the same, but it does help me focus.”

“Maybe that’s what I need.”

“I’ll grab some for you,” he says.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do. We have them everywhere.”

I swallow. The unexpected offer feels… nice. Like he really is looking out for me. And not because Bex asked him to.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I whisper.

Wyatt is quiet for a moment. “I’m just being me,” he finally says.

“No. You’re different lately.”

“Elsy, I’m just being myself. You haven’t been able to see it, but I haven’t changed. I’m still the same me I’ve always been.”

Right. He hasn’t changed. He’s still the same insensitive asshole he was all those years ago.

When I don’t say anything, he asks, “Why’d you call me?”

“I told you. I was bored.” A chill runs over me, making my skin rise in goose bumps. Why did I call him?

“Yeah. But why’d you call me ?”

“I don’t know.”

He exhales slowly. “Okay. But when you figure it out, you let me know, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it. “What are you up to?”

“Just hanging at the hotel. I’m supposed to be taking my pregame nap.”

“Oh. I’m bothering you. I should go.” I don’t know why I even called him.

“You’re not a bother,” Wyatt says. “I… like this.”

“Don’t make this weird,” I snap at him. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs, sending a wave of warmth through me. “Yeah, okay.”

“Have you talked to Bex recently?” I shift on the couch, stretching my legs out in front of me.

“Not in a few days.”

“We talked last night. She’s doing well.”

“Good. I’m glad.” His voice is warm and familiar, lulling me into complacency. “I worry about her.”

“She’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry. Sometimes it’s the strongest people who don’t know how to take care of themselves. They’re go, go, go all the time, they don’t know how to rest. Or how to decompress. They put all their effort into being strong, so when they start to splinter, they fall apart and don’t know how to pick up the pieces.”

“What about you? Are you strong?”

“In some respects.” He pauses. “I’m careful about taking breaks. I check in with my therapist regularly. It’s hard with the demands of the season, but I take time off during the offseason and that goes a long way to helping me recharge. Resting on off days.”

“Oh. You’re off tomorrow. Does that mean you don’t want to hang out? You need to rest.” I bite my lip. Now that I’ve had some time to think about the idea, I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would.

“I’ll pick you up at noon. We’ll go to lunch and see where the day goes from there.”

I swallow. “Okay.”

Everything about this conversation makes me uncomfortable, but in a good way, like I’m stretching muscles I haven’t used in a while. I’m not used to feeling uncertain. I know who I am and what I want.

After everything with Stephen, I started to doubt myself.

No more. I won’t let that continue. Wyatt might be confusing me, but I honestly don’t think he’s trying to mess with my head. He’s a dick, yeah. But not cruel. Just an average asshole who says stupid things.

But if he spouts off about me to his buddies… That’s it. The gloves are coming off. No more Miss Nice Girl.

A knock raps on my door, startling me from my thoughts, and with a sigh, I rise from the couch and hurry to the door.

“I should go. I have?—”

The words die on my lips once I’m face-to-face with a stranger. Not my cute neighbor. “Delivery for Elsy Alexander,” the guy says, holding out a bag of takeout.

Blinking, I take it. “I didn’t order anything.”

He shrugs. “I’m just delivering. Already paid for. Have a good day.”

Hmm. Bex must have ordered me something. Or maybe Mitch. He does that kind of thing.

“What it is?” Wyatt asks in my ear, sounding smug.

“I’m not sure.” Padding over to the counter and setting the phone down, I unbox the unexpected delivery.

There’s a tuna sandwich on a croissant, a pint of potato salad, and three whole pickles.

“It’s from the deli.”

“Hmm. Imagine that,” he says causally. Much too casually.

My eyes narrow at the phone, even though he can’t see it. “Wyatt Whitney, did you send me food?”

“You sounded hungry,” he says. I can practically hear him shrugging. “Can’t have you wasting away on me.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

Another protracted silence stretches between us. I don’t know what to say.

“I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow,” Wyatt finally says.

“Tomorrow,” I repeat. A little thrill runs through me at the thought, equal parts nervous and excited.

“See you then.”