In Time

Red Herring

Author's Note: There are a couple of things in this chapter that might not make perfect sense, since I haven't edited the previous chapters yet. Keep in mind that Charlotte has anxiety problems, and Cat Eyes doesn't only warn her---he apologizes to her (for what she doesn't know). Happy reading!

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Caleb blanches. "Emery?" he whispers. "That's not... That was years ago. And it's not like my brother's here to prove his innocence." His eyes harden.

Or guilt. The pounding in my temples starts to throb.

"No, I know. I know he isn't." My hands begin to tremor. I start fidgeting with the hem of my shirt to conceal it.

"So that's all you came here to say?" The iciness of his gaze is unfamiliar to me.

"No. I mean, I guess. Yes. Well, maybe." He raises his eyebrows.

"There's more, actually." I gulp. "I think there might be a lot more about that night neither of us ever knew about."

His eyes bore into mine. "Why would you say that?"

It's getting harder to breathe. I grip the counter for support. "Because. I was being followed by someone I've never seen before. And I'm pretty sure he's somehow connected."

His eyes flit down to my hands. I immediately let go of the counter and lay my hands palm-down in my lap, trying to keep them as still as possible.

"Why? He could just be a stalker." The anger in his eyes has somewhat faded. He looks uneasy.

"No, he---" I pause and take a breath. "He apologized to me. Like really apologized. Only here's the thing: I have no friends." I'm rushing to get everything out. "I don't really do anything. So it couldn't have been about anything else. And the whole thing was just really creepy. If you'd been there, you'd understand." The whole explanation has me winded. I inconspicuously try to take some deep breaths.

"That girl you were with." He turns to the fridge and changes the subject. "It looked like she was your friend."

"Jackie?" With his back turned, I take the opportunity to close my eyes and try to ignore the throbbing in my temples. "She's not my friend. I mean---not really. We only get together to drink and party." When I open my eyes, he's back on the other side of the island, sliding me a glass of water and a small white tablet. He looks... concerned?

So much for keeping my little panic attack under wraps.

I stare at the pill. Caleb clears his throat. "It's Cipramil. My buddy takes it. He says it helps."

I almost never medicate, but I need to be able to get through this conversation with him. I try to take the glass and the pill without trembling too much. How embarrassing. "Thanks," I mutter, avoiding his gaze.

I gulp down the tablet. He changes the subject again. "Do you often have... respiration issues?"

I choke. A spray of water splashes onto the counter. I stand up to get a paper towel, but Caleb says "I got it," and wipes off the splatter.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I didn't mean to spit on your fancy kitchen island or whatever."

His mouth pulls up at the corner, just a little bit. "Don't worry about it. So, you gonna answer the question?"

Right. "Um... sometimes. Ever since... you know. Well, I had it before too, but it kind of got worse after that." I realize how that sounds and start backtracking. "But it's not that serious. It's just, you know, slightly uncomfortable. But it's not a big deal."