Love You Better (Better Love 1)

And now a new one.

A spicy and cloying blend of leather and ginger.

It’s a rapid-fire viewfinder playing back my nightmares.

“What cologne are you wearing?” I choke out, unsure if he can hear me over the blood pounding in my eardrums, and he chuckles.

“You like it?” he says in a way that I’m sure he thinks is seductive, but if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to vomit all over his too-small t-shirt.

A dark mesh jersey. A low rumbling voice. Dark hair.

“What is it?” I press again, trying my best to breathe through my mouth, to avoid the stink, but it’s getting harder to do. My heart is racing, I’m feeling dizzy, and I can feel the kitchen cabinets closing in on me. It’s getting louder by the second. My skin is tight and itching. I try to recite the Attorney’s Oath but can’t even recall the first sentence.

Navy curtains. Leather. Ginger. Pressure.

“It’s Juego Voss... Hey are you okay?” The guy moves his hand to my shoulder, but I shove him off.

Jersey. Dark. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure.

“I’m going to be sick,” I say, and he steps back quickly as I jump off the counter and rush to the stairway. I clutch the railing and stumble up the stairs, steadying myself on the wall for a moment once I reach the top. Then, hurriedly, I bypass the line for the bathroom and push past the girl coming out the door.

“Sorry!” I force out with a scratchy voice to the pissed-off coeds, and then slam the door and lock it behind me. I have enough sense to send Jesse an SOS text before I puke my guts out in the toilet.

In a matter of minutes that feel like hours, Jesse is banging on the door to the bathroom.

“Let me in, Ivy,” he calls through the door, and I stumble over to unlock it. When he steps in, he immediately gathers me in a hug, and I start sobbing. I still can’t remember the Attorney’s Oath, so I switch to memories of Jacob.

Teaching him to ride a bike. Breathe in. Taking him for ice cream. Breathe out. Reading Percy Jackson together. Breathe in. Helping him bake cupcakes for Kelley’s birthday. Breathe out. I put a picture of him in my mind and go over each of his facial features. His eyes. His smile. His floppy hair. Breathe in and out.

I vaguely feel, as if through a thick wool blanket, Jesse maneuver me to the floor, his hand rubbing gently up and down my back in a comforting gesture. I think I hear someone banging on the door, but Jesse bangs right back and yells something that I don’t pay attention to. I don’t know what he says, but the angry commotion from outside the door stops, and when my ragged breaths quiet, I unfold myself from the slouched position I’d been sitting in.

I’m still itchy, my skin still crawling, but I’m no longer on the verge of vomiting again. I’m teetering, and Jesse can tell, because he grabs my discarded clutch from the floor and pulls out my emergency Lorazepam. He hands it to me, and I take it dry.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Brown eyes. Thick glasses. Crooked smile... Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“What happened, Ivy?” Jesse asks quietly after about fifteen minutes. “Did that guy do something?”

I shake my head and wipe the tears from my cheeks. “No. No, he was a jerk, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

He eyes me skeptically. “This hasn’t happened in almost a year. What caused it?”

“His cologne.”

“His cologne?” Jesse pauses for a minute, confusion etched over his face. “His cologne triggered a panic attack?”

I look at him and nod my head slowly. His eyes grow wide.

“You think it was a memory? A memory from—”

“I don’t know,” I respond quickly. “I don’t know for sure, but I think so.” I shrug once more, and the tears return. A loud hiccup breaks from my chest, and Jesse pats my back again.

“Why, Ivy?” he says sternly. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

I freeze.

“What do you mean?” I’m confused. He can’t mean what I think he means.

“Why do you put yourself through this? I know it’s hard for you. Why do you put yourself in these situations if you know this can happen?” His voice is broken, and though he’s asking out of concern for me, it doesn’t stop the anger from coiling tightly in my chest.