Blaze

Thirteen; Blaise

I manage to stumble out the back doors of the lecture hall and to a bench on the side of the building, partially concealed by a large oak tree, before the familiar burn crawls up my chest. I collapse on the seat and attempt one of the grounding techniques I've rehearsed. I do not want a full blown panic attack here, today.

I was prepared, dammit! I was prepared for almost anything, but not to see him sitting there. Still, other than not being able to control my big, opinionated mouth, I think I did okay. I managed to hold my anxiety in check throughout the interview, but damn, that whole experience was a lot.

I try to forget the interview, the tension, him, and bend forward, focusing on inhaling and exhaling. A long shadow falls over me and I know who it is without even looking up. I can feel it in the way the air shifts and my skin vibrates.

"You okay?" 

"Yeah," My eyes stay fixed on the ground. I can't look up. I'm teetering too far on the edge of panic to look at his face right now.

He kneels in front of me, his hands on my knees, and squeezes. This is all too similar, too much.

I wipe the back of my hand across my cheek. "We really have to stop meeting like this."

His eyes are full of concern and the corner of his lip quirks up, but he doesn't laugh. He doesn't even fully smile. 

"Seriously, I'm fine," I say, trying to convince us both. "It's just another panic attack. I can handle it on my own."

"I'm sure you can," he says, looking up at me from his position crouched in front of me, "But you don't have to." His eyes are sincere, but I still feel pathetic. I've only seen this man three times and twice I was overwhelmed by anxiety. He probably thinks I'm someperpetual, hysteric damsel in distress.

I quickly stand, forcing him to drop his hands and stand as well. He takes a step back and I attempt to walk around him, but I'm too lightheaded. I stumble and he reaches out for my arm, steadying me by my elbow. My breathing is still too quick and shallow. Shit. I'm going to hyperventilate.

He looks into my eyes, still holding my elbow, and slowly slides his hand down my arm until the back of my hand is resting in his palm. He guides my hand, my palm facing up, his eyes never leaving mine. I hold my breath waiting to see what he does next. I would let him guide me anywhere right now, and the thought is disconcerting.

He gently places my palm on his chest, over his heart, and takes a deep, slow breath. He continues, exaggerating each breath. His nostrils pull in dramatically on each inhale, his lips pucker on each exhale. His movements prompt me to imitate him. I watch his eyes while I slowly match his respiration and heart rate. I lose count of how many breaths we take like that until I stop wheezing and panting and my heart rate slows.

But just as my heart rate calms, my body registers the contact between us and my pulse starts to quicken again. We are barely touching, just my palm against his chest and his palm against the back of my hand, but I feel him everywhere.

He must trust my breathing now because he drops my hand and takes two steps back from me. I know we're partially hidden behind this building and I don't see a soul in sight, but I'm suddenly aware of how visible we are and how inappropriate this probably looks.

"Are you okay?" He repeats, this time looking straight in my eyes. 

"Yes." I take another steadying breath. "Thank you, I'll be fine."

He glances around. "Do you need help getting to your car?"

"No, I'll be fine. I'm just going to sit here for a minute. Catch my breath."

"Okay." He watches me for a moment. "Then I'll leave you to it. But you were quite impressive in there. I have a feeling I'll see you again."

"Thanks. I'd like that." He smiles, but just as quickly as the grin appears, it's replaced by a frown. He nods and turns and walks away from me. He stops after he's taken a few steps. He stands straight and rigid, his hands in his pockets.

"There are rules, you know," He doesn't turn, and for a moment I wonder if I'm hearing things.

"Rules?" 

"Codes of conduct. Conduct between students and staff." He still hasn't turned to me. He hasn't even moved.

"Oh. Um. Okay." What the hell is he talking about?

"Relationships, even casual relationships, between students and staff are prohibited. And the rules are strictly enforced." 

"Do you understand, Blaise?" Do I? I suddenly feel very naive and wish I was older, had a little more experience with men. I don't want to presume, but I feel like he's warning me. Which means he's interested in me. Or it means he can tell I am interested in him. 

"Um. Yes?" I answer him finally, but it comes out as more of a question. He pulls his arm up and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. His sleeves are unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbow, allowing me to watch his forearm flex every time he squeezes the back of his neck.

"If this is what you want, if you want to study at Adair, I really hope you're here this fall. You deserve it. You are extraordinary." He drops his hand from his neck and squeezes his fists, then flexes his hand. Squeeze. Flex.

"Please believe that. But, there are rules. If I see you and I..." he pauses, then rephrases.

"If I don't..." He reaches up to rub the back of his neck again and shifts his weight back and forth between his feet. He finally turns toward me.

"If I'm not friendly, don't take it personally." He stares at me for a long moment. "Goodbye, Blaise." His words are heavy, falling from his mouth with a finality. With closure.