Naomi POV:
I knew it was a bad idea the moment Bennet told us about it. I knew that we shouldn't go, and that it would end in disaster. And it didn't take a genius to figure out that the others knew it too. Yet here we are, having dinner with the Fraziers like one big old... happy... very judgemental group of people who don't like talking to each other. Talk about an awkward silence.
The tense atmosphere of the room had caused a bubble of anxiety to grow in my stomach from the moment we walked in. Everything from the room decor, to they way the Fraziers were dressed, to the way they looked at us made me feel inferior.
Having been brutally judged all my life, you'd think I was used to it by now. It had become a normal part of my life, so ingrained into my daily routine that I'd stopped noticing it long ago. But in fact, it had the opposite effect. Spending your whole life being told that you aren't good enough, aren't pretty enough, or aren't popular enough can have that effect on you. The kind where you're always conscious of everything you do, how you do it, and who's watching you do it. And right now, some very important people are watching me struggle to figure out which eating utensil I'm supposed to use. Aren't I supposed to be the smart one?
Bennett, who was seated next to me, subtly leaned down and whispered in my ear.
"Start with the ones to your outside and work your way to the inside ones," he said. Really? There's an order you're supposed to follow for which utensils to use? I seriously don't belong here. Why am I here again? I can't be here. I shouldn't be here. Where's the exit? Bennett must notice my panic because he gets up and takes my hand, dragging me up with him.
"We'll be right back. We just need to talk," he tells his family. They all give a silent nod, while Declan and Jordan look at us with both confusion and concern. With that said, Bennett leads me out of the dining room and down the hall so that we can't be heard by anyone else. It's only once we stop walking that I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding in.
I wipe my sweaty palms on the side of my maroon colored dress and stare at the ground, trying to avoid meeting Bennetts gaze. Bennett says nothing for a while and, unlike with the rest of the Fraziers, I'm happy he doesn't. I'm on the verge of a full on panic attack, and I'm afraid that if I open my mouth to speak I might actually vomit.
Bennett waits until my breathing returns to normal and I've calmed down a bit before he gently grabs my chin and tilts my head up so that I'm facing him. His eyes examine my face for a brief moment before they meet mine.
"You okay now?" he asks. I quickly nod my head. God, I must look so pathetic right now. I mean, who freaks out about something as trivial as having dinner with people? Me, apparently. I turn away to start walking back to the dining room and hopefully forget about this oh so embarrassing moment, but Bennett reaches out and grabs my arm before I can.
"I can drive you home if you want. You don't have to stay here, you know." God, am I really that pathetic? I quickly shake my head.
"No thanks, I'm fine. I just got a little bit anxious. It was stupid," I say, twiddling with a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of the fancy bun I had put my hair up into. Bennett's concerned expression never left his face, but after several seconds he let out a sigh and nodded. We both made our way back into the dining room and took our seats. As we sat back down, Jordan opened his mouth to ask about it, but Bennett cut him off.
"It's nothing," he said. Jordan quickly shut up again and slumped down slightly in his seat, earning a disapproving look from Mr. Frazier, which he didn't notice. When the food was brought out, I ate as little as possible, mostly because I was too busy focusing on how Bennett spent the entire time death glaring at his dad.
