I HOPED FOR nothing more than a steady alcoholic supply, if only to forget that Takoda's ex-girlfriend hovered just a few feet away. I highly doubted Takoda would let me make that much of an ass of myself here, but I still hoped.

Xandra looked ethereal as she weaved through people in her black, figure-hugging, back-baring sequin dress, and I was reminded of how big of a fraud I was as I studied her. I was tempted to bring her to Takoda's attention so he'd at least be aware of the cause of my sudden distress, but with their newfound friendship, I wasn't sure what it would achieve.

So I grabbed his hand and intertwined my fingers with his and leaned against him for both physical and emotional support. We said hi to a few people who insisted on letting me know they were happy to see me—even though I had no idea who they were—but my attention was sliced in half the whole time, my eyes momentarily drawn to Xandra's general direction.

I think Takoda noticed I was a little uneasy, because he kindly excused us from a conversation a while later and led me to a quieter corner, his grip firm around my wrists.

"You good?" he asked as he stopped in front of me.

I nodded without wasting any time, slipping my hands out of his grip so I could hold onto his fingers instead. The physical contact helped me stay grounded. "Yeah. I'm just . . . a little overwhelmed."

"You sure? You don't need to step away for a bit or anything?"

"No. I'm good."

"Let me know if you need anything, yeah?"

I tasted selfishness at the back of my throat then, thick and bitter. We came here to support his community, and I was unintentionally making it about me. Xandra wasn't here for me or Takoda—heck, she probably didn't even know we were here—so I needed to relax. I needed to get over myself. With that in mind, I squeezed Takoda's hand and nodded again. "I'll be fine."

He gave me a small smile, and I returned it, and for a moment, it was quiet between us. By the time we returned to socialize, I wasn't as tense.

We all gravitated towards the entrance some minutes before the event was to officially start, and Takoda whispered in my ear about everyone we'd talked to and who they were. Most of them owned brands that were doing well but I'd never heard of, and I appreciated the networking. A good majority of those brands provided services I was interested in.

The large hall glittered. Minimalistic chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and fairy lights spanned from wall to wall, going as high as my eyes could see, like one wide magical curtain. The streamers and fabric placed over the tables were white, the fancy chairs looked like they were made from real silver, and the floor was so polished that everything and everyone reflected in it. Nothing looked out of place, and I could tell a lot of effort was put into this.

Each table was set up for four people, the top occupied by vases of white roses and posh ice buckets that held wine and champagne and bottles of water. Takoda and I were led to one by a nicely dressed woman, and we sat alone for a few minutes, the dull thump of music playing overhead the only thing that filled the silence between us. I didn't notice that our hands were still joined, or that they now rested against his thigh, until his thumb moved over mine. When I looked at him, I wasn't surprised to see him absently staring ahead. He was leaned back in his chair, his gaze on the stage in the distance, and his free hand drummed an inaudible beat on the table. His other leg bounced impatiently.

Without cameras and microphones in his face, I really saw Takoda for who he was. People who watched him from afar made comments about how comfortable he always looked in the spotlight, like he knew he was meant to be there, but it couldn't have been any farther from it. Maybe I could owe the amount of knowledge I had of him to the fact that he once let me in, and at this point, I honestly couldn't say I minded.

He reached up after a moment to push his fingers through his hair, and I didn't realize when I did it, but I leaned over and slapped his arm before he ruined it in public.

I was met with an incredulous look a second later. "What was that for?"

I tried to hold back my smile but couldn't. "There's no way I'm letting you drag your hands through that. You'd have to go through me first."

"Whose hair is it—yours or mine?"

"I can't risk you looking like a caveman here. You'll make me look bad."

Before I could stop him, he ran a hand through his waves, and the only mess it managed to create was . . . no mess at all. It all just came falling back forward, like nothing happened. He must've found the look on my face amusing, because he gifted me a smile. "Like I said. My hair, not yours. I know what messes it up and what doesn't."

"Enlighten me." It took me a beat to realize that, subconsciously, I was trying to help take his mind off whatever was just going through it, and it seemed to be working.

He observed me in silence with those intimate eyes he'd been blessed with, his smile growing softer. Then he released our hands, and I didn't understand why until the back of his index finger lightly brushed against my right cheek. I wasn't sure what prompted his sudden need to touch me, but my body responded, a guitar string where he was concerned. "For starters," he began, and his voice dropped a few octaves, "it'd take a lot more effort than if I wanted to ruin yours."

A chill gripped the bottom of my spine as it occurred to me that it could've been a double entendre—he took every opportunity he got to mess with my hair when we were together, whether it was just to touch it or ruffle it or wrap the strands around his fingers until everything was all tangled up. I'd been an oversensitive mess since the thing at his place last week, but I didn't fight the ache that pumped across my chest when I realized how much I missed his fingers hitting sensitive spots on my scalp and curling my toes.

"Underestimating my hair now?"

"Just the facts."

"We'll see about that."

He met my eyes with a quiet smile and held my gaze for a second too long. "We'll see." The words were so quiet that I doubted I was supposed to hear them. His finger had stopped moving against my cheek, but it remained there, and I fought the urge to kiss his hand. Even though I was aware that I had the liberty to do that out here, I didn't. I regretted it when he retracted his hand, though.

Before I could dwell on it, a new presence joined us at the table.

Over time, our bodies learn to deliver one of three responses when faced with something remotely resembling a threat: fight, flight or freeze. More often than not, humans go with the latter.

Takoda and I saw her at the same time, and his hand tightened around mine as I practically felt him pull his guard up. His reaction wasn't out of the ordinary, but it was towards her, especially if I took the last time we saw her into consideration. Despite my efforts to not let it get to me, it still made me panic.

Xandra was still as much as the otherworldly being she was when she took the seat on the other side of Takoda after squeezing both our shoulders, and the bold, flowery smell of her cologne hit me like a freight train.

"Hi," she said as she set her purse down on the table, beaming. The metal strap hit the top with a soft clang.

"Alex." Takoda regarded her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You almost sound surprised to see me," she commented, leaning back in her chair. "I like what they did with you today."

Takoda chuckled, his thumb still moving against the back of my hand, his grip remaining tight. "I almost feel assaulted at this point."

I was a little too relieved that he didn't return the compliment.

"They love you a little too much."

I zoned out of their conversation and went so numb that Takoda's touch grew distant. It hit me that he knew she was going to be here. The first time, I could let slide, but this? Why didn't he tell me? Was that the real reason he was acting so weird? Because he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words?

I tried to focus on the panels and performances, allowing myself to smile and whoop at the end of an Afro beat-inspired performance. I needed to let myself forget that Xandra kept speaking to Takoda and smiling at him, that her lips easily found his ears, that her eyes glittered as though intent on reminding me that she was a much better, mature person than I would ever be. I saw the way he looked at her, too. She had his attention in the palm of her hand, and she knew it.

I practically went ignored for the rest of the thing, only receiving acknowledgement when she wanted to take a picture of me. I hardly realized when I slipped my hand out of Takoda's, but when he reached over to take it back in his, I didn't let him. I folded them in my lap for a handful of seconds, before reaching for a bottle of wine. Then I drank three glasses in a row. Unfortunately, it was non-alcoholic.

Towards the end of the penultimate performance, a cover of Khalid's Vertigo, I quietly excused myself to the bathroom. I couldn't move my body right anymore, heavy in my heels, and it wasn't until I shut the bathroom door behind me and placed my hands on either side of the sink that I took back my breath. I watched my made-up face in the clean mirror, noted how enhanced all my features looked, noted that tears were pooling in my eyes.

"God," I whispered before I meant to, then took a tissue out of my purse and wiped beneath my eyes, hoping I didn't ruin my makeup. I didn't know why I was getting so worked up over this, why the mere mention of Xandra's name had my head spinning when there was nothing to feel guilty about. I just needed to pull myself together. This was the reason I needed a heads-up before seeing her.

To ground myself further, I took out my phone and texted my sister, praying she was still awake.

Currently hiding out in a bathroom, I sent, then took a photo of myself in the mirror. My eyes were glassy, but I didn't care. I wanted her to notice.

What happened, are you okay?? she replied in no time, and I don't think I'd been that happy to see a text.

I don't know what's wrong with me

Did you talk to Takoda about it?

I don't want to make this about me. He's at this event to support his community and I'm not gonna take that away

Her caller ID displayed on my screen a few seconds later, and I drew in a breath before I picked it up.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey." My voice was breathy and weak. "My feet are killing me."

"Don't digress, Cleo. Talk to me."

I turned around to lean against the sink, and stared at the closed door for a moment. "I think it's anxiety. I don't know. I just started feeling all this misplaced pressure all of a sudden, and there are tears in my eyes. I don't know." The harder I tried to push out those breathy words, the more my eyes stung.

"Okay. I just need you to breathe, okay?"

"I'm breathing."

"I know it might be overwhelming over there, but just remember to breathe."

I nodded even though she couldn't see me, debating whether to tell her or not. I had too many things bottled in, but I didn't want to say anything in my vulnerability that I'd regret, so I opted to keep my mouth shut and just do as she said.

"Don't be in a hurry to go back in, yeah? Just take as long as you need, and if Takoda comes to find you, don't feel guilty over it."

"Yeah."

I listened to her tell me reassuring things for God knew how long until the wave settled and I felt calm once again. Then I tearfully thanked her for being there as I gently dabbed the moisture away from my eyes, and she remained on the line, a steady anchor, till I hung up. I took a few more moments to myself, staring at myself in the mirror once again, this time in tranquil silence.

After a couple breathing exercises, I stepped out of the bathroom, unaware that Takoda was standing outside. He leaned against the far wall, quiet, with his hands in his pockets. I remained frozen outside the bathroom for a minute as he took in the state I was in, his eyes hooded but soft, glittering in some overhead phantom light.

I wanted to say something to him, wanted to blame him for all this, for what he was doing to me, but after a few heartbeats spent just standing there, I looked away and made to leave.

He caught my hand as I walked past, but I quickly withdrew it from his grip and took a step back. I almost stumbled in my heels, and he attempted to steady me, but I caught myself before he could touch me again.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Can you mention one thing off the top of your head right now that you're not sorry for, Takoda?" I asked, my voice pained. "You're always sorry. For every damn thing."

"I swear, it skipped my mind. I was tired and didn't remember until she showed up." I didn't respond, and there was a hum from over our heads. He studied me for a second, then sighed and shook his head. "I don't have an excuse, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever. Doesn't matter now anyway, does it?"

I made to walk away again, but he held me back. "Cleo—"

"God, Takoda. I don't wanna do this here. Let go of me."

I didn't know why I was shivering, but I was, and he took note of it. Despite my protests, he didn't let go of my hand.

"You can't go in there like this."

I laughed, but it sounded choked around the end, and I was forced to calm down and resume my breathing exercises. I didn't stop shaking, though, and after a moment, he gently pulled me into himself for a hug. I didn't have enough strength to fight him about it, and he was a great hugger, so I found myself melting into him. He backed us up against the wall and placed a cheek against the top of my head as his fingers found their place in my hair. Another shiver rolled down my back and caused my teeth to briefly chatter at the feel of his touch on my scalp. I intertwined my fingers behind his back and shut my eyes tight, tried to bring myself to focus only on the things that mattered right now, not those that would alleviate my panic.

Takoda was so warm, it was ridiculous. The feel of his rapidly beating heart cascaded through me, as if trying to echo its way through to mine. I focused on that. I focused on how one hand moved in my hair and the thumb of the other moved in an intoxicating circle on my lower back. I focused on the sensation of blood being squeezed out of my fingers, focused on the voices I could hear in the distance. Even though all of this helped, the panic hovered like a bad omen.

I breathed in Takoda's smell, that romantic hint of vanilla and the ocean, over and over. I tightened my arms around him and buried my face in his shirt, let myself forget about my makeup.

"I wanna stop messing things up with you, Cleo," he mumbled into my hair. "I really wanna stop."

For a moment, I remained silent, rolling his words around in my head. Then I said, quietly, "Then stop."

His arms tightened around me briefly as his chin dropped to my shoulder. "I will. I promise."

I held onto him like a lifeline, my hands instinctively moving to massage the hair at the base of his neck, and there was a significant shift between us as he melted into me, too.

when they have a ✨moment✨

curious question: how do we feel about xandra? i had a blast creating her, and i love the fact that she plays an important role in the story but isn't always physically present.

in other news, i opened an IG for wattpad (@fayfuzzies), and if you have it, you can follow me there for extras. i'm still figuring out how to use canva without getting confused on which template i like best, but it'll be fun!