tw: mention of panic attack.

• C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - O N E •

the one with
the wake-up call

How could she not recognize Blake Ford?

"You okay?" Veronica's voice echoed in a whisper as they stood at the back of the elevator.

Danielle was not okay.

In fact, she was far from it.

She absently nodded as her eyes cut to the front where Blake stood facing the metal doors, her dog Jax sitting obediently by her feet and Allen absently caressed its head. Her entire ensemble was making Danielle squeamish, the temperature in the elevator skyrocketing to hundred degrees in the mere minutes she was confined in such proximity to her.

How could she not recognize Blake Ford!

In her defense, they didn't spend much time with Allen's family, but she had surely seen her on at least two occasions in the past.

Did Blake recognize her?

The metal doors slid open and both Allen and Blake didn't waste time. It was one o'clock in the morning and the question of why Blake would pay him a visit at such an ungodly hour was hanging among everyone present. The two siblings paced down the hallway to reach Allen's apartment, getting inside without another word.

Danielle felt like she could breathe now. She rushed to open their apartment door and pulled Veronica by the elbow, looking at her with wide panicked eyes. Veronica's eyes narrowed.

"I have half a mind to leave you like this."

"Oh c'mon I did nothing on purpose," she sputtered and her sentence left hanging when Chloe bypassed them like a ghost, mumbling under her breath and collapsing on the couch from exhaustion. Veronica's eyebrows shot up as if her point had just been proven.

Danielle rolled her eyes. "I didn't do it on purpose and you know it."

"How about letting me sit next to Allen for five hours?" Her glare hardened at the memory.

They had sat in complete silence after Chloe's panic attack had subdued. Their last conversation hung between them like a ticking bomb and Veronica had decided to break it:

"I don't want this to be weird," she had said.

Allen had untangled the earphones, offering an earpiece. "It's not weird," he had replied, a small smile on his lips, holding her gaze for mere seconds before turning back to the screen and choosing an episode of Friends for them to pass the time.

But it had been weird. It still was. Veronica hadn't argued further, but she felt bad that he constantly had to take her feelings into consideration.

She forgot he had feelings of his own.

"Fair enough. I'm sorry about that."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"Can I talk about my thing now?"

"Sure."

"I may or may not have a huge thing for Blake."

Veronica blinked. "Well, that's great!"

"No no, no no-" Danielle shook her head and nervously chuckled. "This means that all this thing I've been trying to avoid-"

"Your identity crisis?"

"Yes. I have to deal with now! And Blake could not be into me at all. I remember Allen saying she's gay, but I mean, so what? Did you see her? She must have millions of options," she rambled, placing her hands on her head and taking a fistful of hair. "Oh, God. I'm so not ready, I'm so not ready," she mumbled to herself repeatedly, spinning around to head for her room and shut the door.

Veronica exhaled a heavy sigh. She wasn't ready to deal with her problems at all too.

Their arrival strangely felt like a wake-up call, like they'd been out vacationing and the world for a moment pressed pause. But that feeling reached an abrupt stop, and reality's claws were ripping it away to shreds.

"Let me get to the point," Blake said with an easy smile, one Allen knew had an underlying bitterness to it.

"You better. I just sat through a fifteen-hour flight."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm doing you a favor. I know jet lag triggers your sleep paralysis."

She was right, but he didn't answer, only shrugged.

"Are mom and Lily okay? Dad?"

"Yeah, yeah, they're fine." She waved her hand dismissively, stepping further inside and landed heavily on the couch, propping her feet on the coffee table. Jax was quick to lie on the floor by her side. "It's not a family issue."

"Then couldn't you have told me over the phone?" He arched an eyebrow, heading for the fridge.

"I could, but I was close by."

He stared at her flatly, offering her a beer. "At one in the morning?"

"I walk Jax after work. He prefers night walks, anyway." She shrugged. "I'm glad I'm here though," she said as he sat down next to her on the couch, a bottle of water in hand. "Been a while since we hung out. Who's that girl who was with you?"

Allen's pulse skipped and his eyes narrowed. "Veronica?"

"No. The one with the crazed hair. A little red."

He frowned, his memory a little fuzzy. "Could be Dan. Why?"

"Huh. I don't know. Felt like I've seen her before."

He shrugged. "Probably." Sighing, he faced her fully. "Will you get to your point?"

Blake smiled humorlessly, leaning back to whip out her phone from her pocket. She typed something quickly, speaking all the while, "I was close by when I read about the news." She looked Allen square in the eye. "It's about Elena's dad." She flipped her phone for him to see.

HARRISON DURANT ACCUSED OF SEXUAL MISCONDUCT AND BEING ANTI-LGBTQ+

1:30 AM

Ethan should have been sleeping from exhaustion by now.

But he wasn't. He was wide awake, alert, and agitated.

He got up, changed into his tracksuit, took his keys, and earphones and was out in under a minute. His sudden need to get his mind cleared was shaking his nerves, urging him to get out for fresh air.

Once the elevator reached the lobby, he already had his earbuds on and was ready to sprint-

He stopped dead in his track at the sight before him.

The hotel lobby was dimly lit, the desk unoccupied which was out of the ordinary. But that wasn't what caught his eye.

It was Natasha.

She had her blazer thrown on a couch, her blouse's first few buttons open and the sleeves messily tucked up. She was pacing around the room, her heels clattering against the tile, the sound resonating around the empty space along with her heavy breathing. She looked flustered, cheeks red and eyes wide, hands frantically fanning her face before settling on her waist.

He slowly unplugged his earbuds, studying her carefully and as silently as he could, fearing that any sound would disrupt the order she was trying to construct in her brain.

It wasn't until she sat down on the couch, elbows on her knees and hands clasped together, resting them against her lips, that he decided to ask.

"Are you okay?"

She jerked her body up straight, a gasp escaping her lips as if the last thing she expected was something to interrupt her while submerged in her deepest thoughts. Her eyes were wide and wild - they further fueled his concern.

"Natasha." He took brisk strides to reach her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I just- I'm fine."

"You're obviously not," he muttered, slowly taking a seat at the coffee table facing her. "What is it? You can talk to me."

She shook her head vigorously. "It's fine. Oh God-" She quickly stood- "I have a shift."

"It's the middle of the night, no one's here." He frowned, following her with his gaze as she strode to stand behind her desk, shuffling through pens and papers urgently.

She sat down in haste, then stood. A quivering breath escaped her lips and she placed her palms flatly on the cool surface. Ethan inspected her carefully, waiting as she breathed in and out slowly. A second passed before she nodded to herself, straightening and tying her hair in a tight ponytail.

"I'm okay now," she mumbled to herself.

No, she wasn't. To Ethan, she looked like she was seconds away from spiraling into a full-blown meltdown.

He shook his head, standing to make his way to the door. He pushed it open, peeking to see Max, a buffy man in his late forties who looked more fit to be a bouncer at a nightclub than a late-night doorman, standing with his arms crossed.

"Hey, Max." Ethan wasn't fazed by the mere nod he received, that was the friendliest gesture Max was able to do. "Natasha isn't feeling well. Is it alright if I took her up to her room?"

Max merely shrugged. "Sure. The people we get at this time are drunks coming back anyway."

"Great. Thanks." Ethan turned and Max followed him inside to confirm with Natasha.

"No. I can't leave my desk." She shook her head forcefully. "I'm fine. I told you." She was speaking robotically, going through papers that Ethan was sure she wasn't even processing.

"You're not okay. Max can take it from here."

"What if someone wants to book?" She tested with an arched eyebrow. Ethan knew she was growing annoyed, but he didn't care.

"I'm sure Max knows how to use a computer. Right, Max?"

"Yeah."

"See? Let's go."

Natasha's eyes flickered from Max to Ethan a few times before she stood, pushing her legs to the elevator, forcing her back to stay straight and her pulse to stay calm. She could feel fire sliding inside her veins as anger came to her in a hot flash.

Ethan knew her outburst was coming. He could see it a mile away. He followed her anyway.

The elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside. Her fingers jammed against the sixth floor and she stepped back, folding her hands neatly before her. Ethan observed her every move from the corner of his eyes. Any second now.

She took a deep breath, and he knew then.

"You don't get to intrude in my business." Her voice was low as she spoke through gritted teeth, facing ahead. "If I say I'm fine, then I'm fine."

He shook his head. "You're not fine."

"Doesn't matter," she snapped. "It doesn't matter. You don't get to decide." She spoke slowly. The doors slid open on her floor and she stormed out without a second of hesitation.

Ethan watched her until the elevator doors closed again. It didn't move and he didn't make an effort to give it a command. He stayed for a moment longer, before his finger jammed against a button.

The doors slid open again and he stalked to her place.

He knocked twice and it wasn't a second before she opened the door, features neutral and eyes hard.

"You're right," he was quick to say. "I'm sorry. You got me worried."

There was a heavy pause, Natasha eyeing him warily, and with every second passing by, Ethan's pulse started to settle into an easy rhythm, but his gut felt heavy still. Natasha swallowed, nodding slowly.

"You're right. I'm not fine," she confessed, eyes darting away fleetingly before meeting his again. "But I don't want to talk about it." She crossed her arms against her chest, hugging her body tightly.

He shook his head. "You don't have to."

She nodded and stepped back. Every nerve and cell in her body was stiff - but she wasn't ready to be alone yet. She craned her neck to usher him in, and he faltered for a beat, before stepping inside.

"Coffee?" She asked, already heading to prepare a pot.

Ethan followed, brows pulling in a frown. "You sure you-"

She was already turning to shoot him a look and he got the hint.

"Right..." He bobbed his head, taking a seat on the kitchen stool. "I'm good, thanks."

As she worked around in the kitchen, Ethan's eyes wandered before they settled on the brown pug lying on the couch, black eyes wide and silently watching. Ethan's pulse skipped for a second when he recognized that pug-but was it...?

"Is that...?" The question was left hanging between them, and he turned to face Natasha, who was already watching him. She mustered a small smile, her shoulders relaxing a little.

"Boo." She confirmed his suspicion and his eyebrows shot up.

Ethan had been in his final year of college when he and Natasha rescued Boo. It had been thrown in the dumpster in the alley right next to the Lodge, Natasha had heard it whining when she had a late-night shift and had been taking a break outside. She had asked Ethan if he heard it too and both had kept looking until they found it, vulnerable and injured. They had immediately attended it to the vet and Natasha had adopted it then.

It was how they both properly first met.

Five years ago.

"She wasn't there last time," he commented.

"I keep her with a friend whenever I have an event," she replied, hands clutching to her mug and she took a quiet sip of warm milk. She had ditched the coffee.

Ethan hummed absently. Natasha put her mug down. "I need to change. Give me a second, okay?"

He nodded. "Sure."

He watched her disappear into her bedroom, leaving the door ajar. She asked him to stay, but he had no idea if she needed him to stay that long. Was it his cue to leave? But she told him she only needed a few seconds, which meant she didn't expect him to go.

He stood and made his way to the plush couch, sitting beside Boo. He caressed its head gently and smiled when it started to fall asleep. He tipped his chin up at the sound of shuffling, noticing Natasha had gotten out of her bedroom, wearing a red polka dot pajama set, her hair tied in a bun. She took her mug from the island and moved to sit on the empty spot next to him.

"Hey," he mumbled as she was about to sit. She offered him a smile, small and soft.

She reached for the remote and turned on the TV, most likely for background noise, like it was their ritual, like they were a couple and it was something they did on nights where they weren't able to fall asleep.

The screen was bright, and it almost blinded them.

BREAKING NEWS
HARRISON DURANT ACCUSED OF SEXUAL MISCONDUCT AND HOMOPHOBIA
"Now to the accusations on one of the most powerful filmmakers in Hollywood, Harrison Durant," the reporter announced, "the New York Times reports allegations by numerous women who..."

Ethan wasn't paying attention, his thoughts clouding his senses, while Natasha lowered the volume, taking a sip as her grip tightened against her mug.

"Thank you for tonight," she mumbled quietly after a while, her finger gently feathering the rim of the glass. She put it down on the table and turned to face him, tucking her leg under the other. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Ethan felt his chest tighten. He slowly shook his head, his palm rubbing her back soothingly. "You have nothing to apologize for."

She smiled, it was genuine, and it brightened her features, bringing a spark to the blue of her eyes. It made his heart balloon in his chest and he pulled her to him. His hand hooked around her and rested on her waist so she could nestle in his arms.

It wasn't long before they fleetingly fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Chloe stood before Bilal's apartment, questioning her rash decision to come here.

She had woken up in the evening with a throbbing headache and flashes of the plane had started to torment her. She contemplated ignoring him forever, but that option wasn't feasible when she saw him almost every day.

She lifted her hand and paused, wincing at the mere memory of the brown bag in her hands, and her head shoved inside the toilet, while he held her hair back for her all throughout.

Screw it.

She knocked on the door like she was ripping off a Band-Aid, two swift knocks, and the throbbing regret that followed a second after. The feeling didn't last too long, since it took Bilal under a minute to swing the door open.

"Hey," he greeted slowly.

Chloe's breath hitched in her throat as she took in the dark-rimmed eyes and the colors drained from his face. He looked like he had a battery sign above his head barely charged to two percent.

Why he would never allow himself to rest was beyond her.

She swallowed.

"Uhm, if this is a bad time I can come by later-"

"No." He shook his head, stepping aside and gesturing for her to get in. She slowly did, grip tightening around the handle of her purse as her eyes wandered around his apartment. She had only been here once with the group, and she had noted how clean it was. It surprised her to see that it still was in the same state. Her eyes skipped to the coffee table, noticing the papers and opened laptop, a still-lit cigarette hanging by the edge of the ashtray, soft smoke blowing.

Chloe scrunched her nose at the sight. "Your apartment reeks of cigarettes."

She was used to catching the faint smell, but it was always concealed with his cologne or clean aftershave.

Bilal chuckled. "I wasn't expecting company."

She turned to face him after finishing her little tour, her eyes flickering down to the smile dancing on his lips. It made the corners of her lips tug up.

"Give me a second I'll cover it up."

"No." She gently touched his wrist as he was about to turn. Bilal twisted to face her, the slight bewilderment vanishing when he met her easy smile. "I'm getting used to it."

Her statement made her own heart flutter. Silence settled between them while he studied her, features softening. She cleared her throat.

"Listen, if you're busy..."

He shook his head. "Would you like a drink?" He asked over his shoulder when he made his way to the kitchen, fishing a glass and unscrewing a bottle of wine. He really didn't have to ask. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, even though he had her back to her, he could sense her growing unease.

Chloe shifted uncomfortably, pushing her hair behind her ear, and placed her purse on the couch. Her vision settled on a small windowed room right in front of her vision that seemed like his study. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, her curiosity prickling her skin. She forced herself to sit tight, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

She looked up when Bilal came to place the glasses of wine on the table. Her eyes widened innocently when he arched an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing." She shrugged, leaning casually to clasp her fingers around the cool glass, swaying it before taking a nonchalant sip.

He cocked his head, studying her in amusement. He knew that look.

"You can look around. I know you're dying to."

She rolled her lips inside her mouth, holding his gaze as she contemplated between behaving herself or satiate her nosy nature.

"Yes. I am." She stood and was in his office in a flash. His throaty laugh made the pit of her stomach warm.

His study was, just as Chloe expected, not much. It resembled the rest of his apartment, windowed with a stellar view of the city. It was a compact room, the desk taking most of the space. It had stacks of papers neatly alighted on the corner, and a plant she remembered Danielle got for him once for his birthday. Behind his desk was a large bookshelf, taking up the entire wall. It had law books aligned, they were thick and a little rusty. She genuinely wondered if they were for décor or he did use them for reference.

She hummed to herself, her fingers tracing the cherry wood of his desk. Nothing. Not even a speck of dust. She was almost sure her fingers could ruin the spotless furniture. Pursing her lips, she moved to the cabinets. He gave her the green light and she was going all the way.

She sensed a tiny little burst of victory when she found large binders filled with scattered papers. Despite being large in numbers, she knew it was the best they could've been arranged. She knew Bilal was neat, she didn't expect him to have a mild case of OCD. She mulled over that theory. He might.

She moved to the second cabinet, noticing it had more items that felt like souvenirs. Some of them are gifts she remembered the guys brought him, keychains and coins from different countries that were turning rusty, and... aha!

A photo album.

She bit back the excited squeal as she opened it to shuffle through the photos.

"Oh my God," she cooed, unable to hold herself back at the sight of a tiny version of Bilal sitting in the middle of the couch, his sisters on each side of him wearing toothy smiles. Even young, he didn't smile much, just look in surprise at the camera, his eyes unbelievably wide.

Bilal chuckled, and it neared as he came to lean against the doorway, watching her flick through the rest of the photographs.

"I'm testing a theory." She tipped her chin up to face him, eyes narrowed. "How mad will you be if I smear my fingers all over your pictures?" She teased.

He frowned. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I think you might have OCD."

He rolled his eyes. "Just because I like things clean, doesn't mean I have OCD."

"Huh..." Chloe trailed, not leaving his gaze when she took one of the photographs out, placing her thumb and leaving a visible imprint on the glossy surface. She bit her bottom lip when the tendons of his jaw tightened. She arched an eyebrow and he shrugged, looking away.

"Are you sure?" She taunted, approaching him slowly, her thumb splotching every inch of the picture, picking a faster pace, waiting for it to trigger-

His hand caught her wrist in a flash. "Okay, okay."

Chloe wickedly grinned and held his glare as he took the photograph away from her fingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," he defended, going around her to reach his desk and open the first drawer.

"You gonna clean it up?" She taunted from behind his shoulder. He shot her a look from the corner of his eye and took out a pure IPA bottle.

"...yes."

She slammed the album closed, wearing a smug smirk. "Thought so."

It took him a second to clean it up and wipe it with a cotton ball. She assumed the cotton was there for 'emergencies' such as this one. The fact Bilal wasn't meeting her eyes was making the situation even more comical.

She took the photo album from him when he was done, and sauntered back to the cabinet, putting it back right where it was (although it wasn't necessary, she knew he was going to check after her anyway). Right as she was about to close it, her curiosity sated, she stopped. Her eye caught the unmistakable flash of the robin egg blue color.

"Someone got you a gift from Tiffany's?" Chloe chuckled at the oddity of it, taking out the bag so she could show him.

Bilal shot his head to her, and at the sight of the bag, he blanched.

She frowned at his reaction, looking back at it to really study it. Her entire body stiffened at the realization that this gift wasn't meant for him, that it was meant for someone else.

"Oh." She winced. She didn't mean for her voice to come out strangled and high pitched. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. Think I went too far..."

She had no clue what to make of this. The patronizing thought that she had no idea what had gone on in his romantic life came back to her like a suffocating migraine and it was ripping at her lungs, piece by piece. She gently placed it back where it was.

"Chloe..." Bilal trailed, wanting to speak but unable to find the proper words.

Chloe blinked at the sound of his voice, soft and quiet. She swallowed, her brain suddenly alert. What did she even know about him? He knew about her, about Aiden, but it had been years since she knew him and she never heard of Mona - it had never occurred to her the possibility he might have been in relationships.

What made her even think this could go somewhere?

She felt selfish for having the tiny hope that he might be into her, that he might have been for a while before, and now that Aiden was no longer in the picture-

"I have to go." She abruptly stood and stumbled for the door.

Bilal frowned. "Chloe-"

"I'm sorry." She didn't meet his gaze as she took her purse from the couch, her feet pacing and her hand already reaching for the door handle. "I'm sorry, I have to go."