Blake gripped the sink like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “I need to make myself throw up⁠—”

“No, you don’t.” I grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to meet my gaze. “It’s too late for that anyway.”

There was a loud crash outside, followed by Tiffany’s voice yelling, “I swear to God, Jamal⁠—”

Blake looked like he was going to be sick. “I can’t believe you let this happen.”

I gaped at him. “Me? I didn’t force-feed you a brownie, Blake.”

“Shit.” His breathing picked up. “I’m sorry, B. I am, okay? I-I can handle this. I just need to—” He stopped, blinking hard.

“Hey,” I whispered, unsure if he’d even heard me. It felt like time had stopped, like the world outside the bathroom had disappeared entirely. The sound of my heartbeat in my ears was louder than anything else. “Listen to me. It’s just weed, okay? You’re not dying.”

“I don’t like this, Beverly. I don’t like feeling like this.” He exhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Which was objectively untrue, considering his life, but I decided not to argue. Instead, I guided him to the toilet and made him sit on the closed lid. He looked miserable, his head in his hands, mumbling something about how he was too smart for this.

“Blake,” I said softly. “Hey, look at me.”

He shook his head, eyes still squeezed shut. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

But Blake didn’t hear me. He was far beyond hearing anything but the loud rush of panic in his head.

His breath became more rapid, uneven. I could hear the quick inhale, followed by the strangled exhale as he fought for control.

“I can’t breathe,” he gasped, his voice cracking with fear.

I knew what this was—he was having a panic attack.

My chest tightened in response to his distress.

I could feel the panic rising in my own throat, choking me.

I didn’t know what to do other than to get him to focus on me.

So I did the only thing I could think of.

Slowly, I slid into his lap.

His eyes flew open, locking onto mine in complete shock. His hands instinctively went to my waist to steady me. My thighs rested on either side of him, and I could feel his heartbeat pounding, could feel his chest rising and falling against me.

“Breathe,” I said softly. “Just breathe, okay? Focus on me.”

He swallowed hard. “Bev⁠—”

“Shhh. Breathe.” I placed my hands on either side of his face, making sure he had nowhere else to look but at me. He tried to say something else, but I shook my head. “Just focus on me. Breathe with me.” I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him. “I’m right here. Just hold onto me, okay?”