Perfecting Patience

Page 39

“Tell me about it. I think she’s trying to kill us,” I said as I dipped my fry into the pile of ketchup in Zeke’s empty basket.
“Oh, look who’s here. It’s freak,” Hope said, referring to Zeke.
They had a love-hate relationship. They both loved to hate each other.
Listening to them sarcastically put each other down could be entertaining, but sometimes it could be downright mean. I’d have to step in every now and again, but I think Zeke missed bullshitting with the boys and Hope missed her three big brothers.
I’d had the pleasure of meeting her brothers before. They were big, ruthless, and had a smartass comeback for everything that came out of anyone’s mouth. Needless to say, thanks to them, Hope was on an even playing ground with Zeke when it came to wordplay.
“Oh look, snowflake, it’s that guy from your classes. What’s your name again, dude?” Zeke countered.
She threw a fry at him, and her face turned red. “Fuck you, douchebag.”
“I don’t swing that way, man, but thanks for the offer.”
“Whatever. Okay, girl, I’ll see you on the field later.” Hope snatched up her fries and grabbed her bag. “Zeke, as always, it was a pleasure. Oh and by the way, you’re a dick.”
“Well, considering I have a dick, that makes sense. Should I point out what you have and what you’re being?”
She threw her bag onto her back and stalked off.
“Okay, good talk, Hope. O oH hhC-U-next-Tuesday!” he yelled across the room after her.
“Oh my God, you did not just call her a—”
“I call it like I see it, baby.” He threw his arm around my shoulders and smiled as he brought his water bottle to his lips.
“Yeah, but I think you might’ve hurt her feelings this time.” I frowned.
“Babe, trust me, she loves it.”
As soon as he said those words I looked over at the front door and saw Hope about to walk out. She turned back toward us, flipped Zeke off, and then playfully stuck her tongue out at him. Once she was outside, she was smiling and laughing with another one of our teammates.
“See? I told you she loves it. She’s bitchy, but I like her.” He nudged my shoulder with his and kissed me on the cheek.
It was nice to see him and Hope getting along, even in a twisted way.
We’d been sitting at the cafe a little longer than usual when a huge crowd of students came in. The fire marshal would’ve had a heart attack had he seen the amount of people piling into the small space. The overly decorated walls were lined with people standing, talking, and eating.
The sound of the iron chairs being dragged across the floor filled the room as the tables around us became crowded. There was a group of girls blocking the doorway, talking and laughing, which made me feel trapped. Everything in the room intensified with my anxiety.
Zeke was busy talking to the waitress about the bill and all I wanted to do was run out into the fresh air. I reached over and grabbed his hand, but he mistook my move and linked our fingers together. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen and my mouth was too dry to form words.
I squeezed his fingers and he smiled over at me before turning back to the waitress. He let go out of my hand to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. Then the space got even smaller when a crowd of people surrounded our table.
“You’re Zeke Mitchell from Blow Hole, right?” a short brunette asked.
I heard Zeke respond and then there were napkins being thrown on the table for his signature. Zeke was laughing and signing with his left hand while went into full panic mode. The people around us were laughing too hard and talking too much. They were sucking out all the available oxygen when I needed it.
Finally at my boiling point, I jumped up from my chair. It flew behind me and fell onto its back with a loud bang. The talking stopped and all eyes turned on me. Not bothering to look back at Zeke, I fled the space and pushed two girls out of the way as I ran out the front door.
I’d left my bag at home, which meant my chill pills weren’t a possibility, and I had no other way to stop the panic rising up my spine and making my head feel heavy and fuzzy. So instead of stopping outside the café, I kept running. I ran until my lungs burned.
The world around me felt off balance as dizziness poured into my brain. My legs felt wrong as my sneakers gripped the asphalt beneath and pushed me forward. I wasn’t sure how long I ran, but at one point I started to worry that my legs would just stop working altogether.
I began to feel better when the blurs around me started to look familiar. When the fresh smell of coffee invaded my senses, I stopped outside my apartment and leaned over to suck in as much air as I could. My fingers dug into my knees and black dots swam before my eyes.