between the pages

Chapter 4

Braden, Age 24

"We can't do this."

Noah stood at my door, tears streaming down her face, and her beagle, Cowboy in hand. My heart dropped to my stomach. Something happened. I was at a loss for words--what's a guy supposed to do when their best friend is breaking down at their front door?

"Come inside, Noah," I said softly as if I was talking to a stray cat. It probably wasn't a surefire tactic but she needed to know I was calm and ready to talk. It would be a difficult feat to accomplish considering the fact that I was definitely not relaxed, at all.

She hesitated.

"Noah, come on whatever this is we can talk about it." She let out a shaky breath as she walked in.

"I don't know if this one's that easy," she said between sobs. I figured just as much. 

I knew what was happening to her. It was the same thing that happened when she submitted her first piece of writing to that New York Times writing competition in college, the same thing that happened when she went to get her first tattoo and--evidently-- the same thing that happened every time someone said the words "who wants to play kickball?".

Noah's brain works in a unique way, where there's always a certain darkness looming over her peace. It was something I learned about her really early in our friendship. I remember the first time she showed up at my door like this. She was crying about a math grade, and she couldn't breathe, and I'd never been more stressed. It was the first time in my life that I experienced a very real hatred for math. I helped her breathe into a paper bag, my hands covering her tiny, shaking ones, and I put my forehead to hers trying to remind her to stay on the ground. 

She's gotten better at expressing herself over the years but I know it'll always be hard for her. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. If there's anything I've learned from being her friend, it's that her anxiety isn't something to be fixed, but understood.

My worry urged me to trail after her as I shut the door. I can't say I didn't expect Noah to freak out about our situation. Hell, it freaked me out. When she asked me to be her boyfriend three days ago, I felt my soul physically leave my body and punch me in the gut upon re-entry.

I never, ever expected her to ask me this favor but it's not like I wasn't eager to help. Noah and I have gotten into plenty of crazy situations over the years and we both left them all relatively unscathed.

She was the only person I would ever be willing to do this for and I told her I would help, which is why I wasn't exactly sure what caused her to spiral into agony.

I was glad she came to me, though. I would rather that than her silently devolving into madness by herself.

I sat on the couch as Noah set Cowboy down and sat down on a recliner across from me. My pitbull, Peaches, ran over from her spot on her bed to greet Cowboy. Noah and I both let out a snort as they both immediately got to irritating each other. 

Noah cleared her throat.

I looked over to her still tear-streaked face, concern enveloping me.

"Noah, what's wrong?" I said softly while looking into her eyes. It crushed me when she got like this. I knew her anxiety attacks were bad but when you let her sit with her thoughts for too long she became almost a shell of herself, unable to function.

"What if we ruin everything?" she said feebly.

My heart dropped even further and a noise I didn't recognize escaped me. The question was vague but I knew exactly what she meant.