The moment Erin stepped out of the dance floor , the weight of the gazes following her was undeniable. She could feel the eyes, some laced with envy, others filled with surprise, lingering on her every move. But it wasn't just any attention—it was Xander's attention they were seeking. She had been his reluctant escort, his disinterest barely hiding the fact that they both had felt the storm of looks directed their way. His gaze was indifferent, like he had grown used to the stares, but Erin couldn't ignore them.
The heat on her skin from all those eyes made her want to shrink, to vanish into the crowd, but instead, she found herself quickening her steps. "We need to leave," she muttered under her breath, not caring if he heard.
Xander's steps faltered for a brief moment. The suggestion had caught him off guard. "What?" He glanced at her, his voice low and steady. "You want to leave?"
She nodded, eyes flicking around. There were too many whispers, too many eyes that made her feel exposed, too vulnerable. "Yes. Please. I don't want to stay."
A moment passed before Xander sighed, a sharp breath through his nose. "Fine." His voice had the same dismissive tone, but Erin could tell there was a shift in the air between them. He wasn't just following orders—he was doing it for her. "Let's go then."
As they made their way to the elevator, the sound of soft chatter from the guests was drowned out by the rush of blood in her ears. The elevator door slid open, and they entered together, the silence settling between them like a weight. She stood a little too close to him, the air between them charged with unspoken words. She could feel her heart racing—not from the event, but from the fact that her body was now alone in this tight, confined space with him.
And then—the elevator stopped.
At first, she thought it was a mere glitch, but as the seconds stretched, anxiety began to crawl up her spine, the walls around her feeling suddenly far too close.
The panic rose without warning, a clawed fist tightening around her chest. She hadn't realized how much she had been holding in, how the small, enclosed space—just the two of them, surrounded by metal—would trigger something in her. She could feel the air growing thinner with every breath, her heart thundering in her chest as the claustrophobia tightened its grip. Her hands gripped the sides of her dress instinctively, fingers flexing in an attempt to stave off the panic.
No, not here. Not now.
Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to inhale deeply, but it wasn't enough. The air still felt too tight. Her pulse raced. She had to get out.
But before she could utter a word or even make a sound, she felt something. A presence. A hand, large and steady, came to rest on her back. A calming pressure, firm and reassuring, grounding her in the moment.
Xander.
She stiffened, her body reacting instinctively to the closeness of him. But then his voice broke through the storm swirling in her head. "Breathe." His tone was steady, controlled, like it was the most natural thing in the world to help her in this way. "It's just a malfunction. We'll be out soon."
She shook her head, too trapped in the spiraling thoughts to take in his words properly. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. The walls felt closer now, the metal pressing in from all sides. She couldn't breathe. It felt like suffocating.
Xander's arm moved slightly, pulling her gently toward him, his embrace solid and warm.
"It's okay," he murmured, his voice low and steady, as if the calm in his words could somehow guide her through the panic. His hand slid up her back and rested on the back of her neck, his fingers gentle but unyielding, offering support. "Focus on me, Erin. You're fine."
Her breath came in short bursts, but his touch… his presence, it was like an anchor in the chaos of her mind. It didn't make the panic go away entirely, but it gave her something to cling to. Something steady.
She clung to him as if he was the only thing tethering her to the ground. "I'm… I'm fine," she whispered, forcing the words past her lips even though she could barely believe them.
Time stretched on in that small, suffocating space. Minutes. Hours? She couldn't tell. But eventually, the elevator jerked back to life, and the doors opened. Xander's hand slid from her back, but the absence of his touch was jarring. She didn't move at first, her body frozen where it had been in his arms, her mind reeling.
When she finally realized how close they had been, how intimate the moment felt—her heart skipped. She pulled away, distancing herself from him, suddenly feeling the weight of what had just happened. She couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't look at him in that moment.
Xander gave her a small, neutral nod, as if nothing had changed, and stepped out first. His usual composed demeanor was back. The elevator was moving again, and yet, something between them had shifted.
They didn't speak as they entered the car. Erin slid into the seat, trying to pretend that nothing had happened, but the air was thick with the silence of unspoken thoughts. She didn't know what to say, how to break the tension, so she simply stared out the window, the cool night air washing over her as the city passed by.
But the memories of the elevator, of the closeness, lingered in her mind. The way his arms had felt around her, the softness in his voice that cut through the panic—it left her unsettled. "I can't think about this now," she muttered under her breath.
Xander, however, didn't seem to notice. He sat beside her, staring straight ahead, a slight frown on his face that she couldn't quite read.
They drove in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them. Neither of them acknowledged the closeness, the sudden shift in their dynamic, as the car sped through the night. The world outside seemed to blur, a distance between them that neither of them chose to cross.
And in that silence, Erin couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't the only one hiding something.