No! I can’t.
I clutched my throat. It felt like it was starting to swell up. The bright daylight over Manhattan became blinding, causing me to scrunch my eyes tight. I suddenly gasped for air as I doubled over and rested one hand on my knee to balance myself. A panic attack was imminent and there was nothing I could do about it.
I felt two hands clamp down on my shoulders and they began to move in circular motions, a deep voice sounded in my right ear as whomever it was began to bellow to cut through my hazy mind. “Concentrate on my voice and breathe.”
“That’s it girl, you’re doing so well,” he continued. I concentrated on the sound of his voice and slowly panted through my attack. The soothing buzz of his massage on my shoulders began to fill my body, over-taking my panic. “Good girl, take a few more deep breaths, the worst is over.”
As soon as I could retain my steady breathing, I slowly raised myself straight and blew out one long, solid breath. My savior was soon in front of me.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
I nodded my head, still breathing heavily. “Thank you for saving me,” I panted as I raised my eyes to him. He was dark-skinned with deep chocolate brown eyes, short dark spiky hair, big ears and such a wide, warm, welcoming smile that I found myself smiling back at him.
“You’re welcome. I’m Jared.” He beamed as he held out his hand towards me.
“Raine,” I replied. I glanced around nervously before briefly shaking his hand. “How did you know, about uhm, me…just…?” I stuttered stupidly.
“My sister. She has panic attacks quite frequently. I noticed the color drain from your face as I approached you, then when I saw you clutch your throat and double over, I gathered it was a panic attack.” He shrugged, like it was nothing.
“Can I walk you somewhere, make sure you arrive at your destination okay?” He offered. He slipped his hands in to his black sweats and dropped his head shyly.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m okay. I’m heading into that shop, and then I’m going home,” I replied, then thanked him once more.
“I’ll be seeing you, Raine,” he called with a salute of his finger away from his head and a look of disappointment sat on his face as I headed towards the shop door.
The air conditioning hit me as soon as I pushed it open and stepped a foot inside, it was a welcome relief as I slowly ambled around the shop grabbing a few chocolate bars and a can of coke to boost my sugar levels. As I stood in line waiting to be served, I’d made the decision of going home and forgetting about the stupid dance class. I’d teach myself from You Tube tutorials, how hard could it be?
As I slowly moved closer towards the checkout, I heard my outdated pager jump to life. According to Max, I had no need for a cell phone, I had no friends, and seemingly no life that would require one. I had to be thankful I had this prehistoric thing. Rooting through my purse, my heart dropped in to my stomach when I pulled it out and read the message.
From: Max. 13.41pm
I hope you made arrangements for those dance classes, Raine? This gala is important for me given how now I’ve been asked to make a speech. I cannot have you show me up.
M x
Deciding against replying, I heaved a deep sigh of frustration and handed over my goods to the checkout clerk. “Will that be all?” She asked as she scanned and bagged my items, robotically.
I went to nod my head but at the last second I changed my mind, “No, can I have a miniature bottle of vodka too please?”
Turning around she grabbed the bottle, scanned it, and handed me my goods as I handed over the money. Collecting my change, I headed back outside into the heat and pushed through the door of the dance studio. A set of concrete steps welcomed me and as the door closed behind me, I could make out the dull base of music. I sat down and quickly rooted around in my bag, I located the vodka and uncapped it, with a sly smile to myself I poured it all into my mouth in one go and closed my eyes. I savored it sliding down my throat, instantly warming, and easing the nerves that were currently cramping every limb of my body.
I heard a door creak open and the thud of music became louder, echoing from the walls before it dulled again when the door creaked closed. Shoving the alcoholic evidence back in the bag, I stood to my feet and mounted the steps with a slight new found confidence I didn’t have ten minutes ago, as the alcohol began to swim through my veins.
I pulled back on the heavy double doors and squashed through the tiny gap my puny strength had managed to open and found myself in a long corridor with no clue which door I was supposed to be heading to. There were three to choose from. Crap!
Pressing my face up to the glass window at the first door, I sighed in relief when I saw the studio was empty. As I slowly I headed to the next door, I stopped to look in the window and spotted a load of people milling around. I tried to search for someone who bore some resemblance to a dance teacher, as I took in what they were wearing. They were all in leggings and t-shirts, while I had opted for jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Scrunching my face in annoyance at my lack of intellect where dance attire was concerned, I turned to leave when a deep, silky voice from behind sliced right through me, causing me to halt in my steps.
“Where are you scurrying off to Myshka?”
Gulping, I slowly turned around and looked in the direction of the voice and a noise strangled itself in the back of my throat. His dark hair dripped with perspiration causing it to lay flat across his tanned forehead, just past his eyebrows and his dark, curious eyes peeked through the haphazard strands. His jaw looked firm and strong with a small curve tugging at his lips, as if there were something funny that only he knew about, but it was the fleeting, wicked glance I caught that totally screamed danger.
“I’m looking for Niki?” I asked. My squeaky tone resembled that of a mouse, causing me to instantly straighten my posture to seem taller than I felt.
He dragged his eyes slowly up my body once. “Well, you found him,” he crooned.
Him?
“Uhm, no… no.., I stammered, and shook my head vehemently. “Niki, the lady. She runs this place,” I replied firmly as I wiped my sweaty palms on the back of my jeans. I couldn’t work out if the heat that was suddenly cooking me was the strange way he was looking at me, the vodka, or a mixture of both.