Seth bought Shonice and my dinner, so in return, I offered to share my canoe with him—since I couldn't really afford to rent him his own. I didn't tell him that though. In his mind, he probably just thinks I'm sharing mine as a ploy to get closer to him. In truth, that's just one of the perks of being completely broke.

The moon is brighter tonight than it was the night the boys and I went hiking, for which I'm grateful. And since we're floating down a river that only goes north and south, the chances of getting lost are slim. I mean, that's what I tell myself as we drift along the shimmery water with nothing but the buzzing of crickets along the banks to keep us company. Truth be told, I could get lost standing still.

"So, for our next canoeing adventure, we're all heading to Costa Rica." I'm laying down, head resting on one side of the canoe while my legs dangle over the other, skimming the water as we glide.

"I'm in," Shonice practically moans from where she's drifting beside us. She sounds half asleep.

"Why Costa Rica?" Seth asks, resting his arms on his knees as he watches the tree line.

"Because," I tell them, "they have bioluminescent canoeing tours. The water lights up when you paddle. Looks super cool."

"I could be down for that," Seth agrees, leaning back and resting his elbows on the bow of the canoe as he stretches his legs out in front of him. He bumps one of the oars and nearly knocks it in the water. I don't think I would have minded if he did. There are worse people to be stranded in a river with, but Seth makes sure to give himself a hard time for almost 'ruining our adventure'.

We all grow silent for several minutes as we coast peacefully around the bends and slopes in the river. I let out a breath, allowing the stresses of school to slip away for a few minutes. Not that I have many stresses, but the quiet has a way of burrowing its way into a person and forcing out all other concerns. Right now nothing else exists. Just me, Seth, Shonice, and our little canoes.

I close my eyes, the lapping of water against the hull soothing me to sleep. An occasional wave will slap at my feet, the chill of it startling me for a moment before I manage to relax into the body of the canoe again. Cicadas sing their powerful songs as they sit tucked in the shadows. The moon is just shy of displaying its full glory as it reflects against the ripples, its light barely detectable against my closed eyelids.

It's dark, quiet, and rejuvenating.

Then something brushes against my hip and I jolt out of my serenity.

"Sorry," Seth whispers, pulling his foot away from me and shifting to get comfortable.

We don't have a whole lot of space in our boat, especially for a six-foot-tall muscly dude with long legs. I'm wondering if he's experienced any level of enjoyment out here or if he's just counting down the minutes until the next dock comes into view and we can catch the bus back to our vehicle.

Glancing in his direction, I see the glistening of his eyes as he stares up at the sky. His arms are crossed, and while he seems to be in deep thought, the constant tapping of his thumb against his bicep makes me wonder if he's more agitated by this outing than enchanted. I try to pull myself back into the stillness but when his foot bumps against my hip again the tranquility is lost.

I wait for another apology, but he doesn't say anything. Neither does he pull his foot away and I glance down to see it pressed against my side. For a moment, I wonder if he's managed to fall asleep or something, but when my eyes land on his face, I find he's still staring at the stars. The only change is the grip he has around his upper arms. With just the moon's light, I can't make out anything but dark and light shadows, but it's safe to assume that by the amount of force in his grip, his knuckles have lost all color. He's clenching his bicep so hard that it looks painful.

"You okay?" I mutter softly, slowly sitting up so as not to rock the boat too much.

Shonice must be listening because I hear her start paddling toward us. Seth never responds to my question and I ponder the possibility that maybe he really has fallen asleep. I saw my cousin sleeping with his eyes wide open once—the most unnerving thing to witness. Maybe that's all this is.

But when Shonice drifts up beside us and reaches out to pull her boat flush with ours, I get a sense that this is not a normal situation. Her hands are on his, prying them away from his upper arm. Then she's rubbing at his shoulders, forcing the tension from his body as she whispers words I can't make out. I hear the occasional, "Look at me," or "take a breath," but I never hear a response from Seth. There are more mumbled whispers from Shonice but I'm sensing frustration in his lack of acknowledgment.

"Sam has no control here!" she suddenly says, her voice quiet but forceful—almost angry.

Her words send an icy gust of fear shooting up my spine and I find myself moving forward, clamoring carefully over his legs to get closer to him. The canoe rocks with my movement, but it does nothing to hinder my attempts. I doubt he needs me, but I can't just sit back and watch. Right now, I need him. I need him to be okay.

"He's having a panic attack," Shonice explains, as if she's handled situations like this on numerous occasions. "We need to get back."

I nod but don't pull my attention away from his face. His breathing is heavy and his body rigid, but from an outsider's perspective, it'd appear that he's simply enjoying the midnight view as he lounges peacefully down the river.

My hand slides up his arm, over his shoulder, and stops at his neck. I rub at the tight muscles as I carefully tilt his head down until his eyes meet mine. His pulse is racing beneath my hand and a shimmer of sweat glistens along his forehead.

"Seth," I murmur soothingly, sliding both hands around his neck as my thumbs stroke his jawline. "You're okay."

He blinks at me, taking several deep breaths before I feel his muscles start to unravel beneath my fingers. His focus doesn't leave my face as he allows himself a moment to pull himself together. My hands are gentle against his skin, sliding along the stubbled ridge of his jaw as I watch him watch me. We don't speak. Everything around us is forgotten. And for the first time, I'm this close to Seth—touching him, eyes locked, his breath against my face—with nothing on my mind but making sure he's okay.

And then his hand slides up my arm, circling my bicep in the most tender way. It's a whisper of a touch, but it's his way of signaling that he's back. The moment has passed. The episode is over. I drop my hands, ready to make my way carefully back to the stern seat when his fingers tighten around my arm. I halt my movements, eyes connecting with his again and I'm startled by the vulnerability swarming the depths of his light irises.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice gravelly. Then he gently releases his hold on me and I return to my seat, mind swirling with the events that just took place. For once, I have no response.

The trip down the river to the next dock is excruciating. I can tell Seth is physically exhausted but refuses to let me take over with the oars. Not a word is spoken apart from me begging to help, and eventually, I give up. Though I can feel Shonice watching me from her canoe, I can't bring myself to glance her way. It'll either be a look of judgment for how I handled Seth or a look of sympathy. I'm not in the mood for either.

We have to wake the bus driver when we arrive on land, and once he gets our canoes loaded onto the trailer, we pile into the vehicle. I keep catching the driver's eye in the rearview mirror as we make the drive back to the canoe rental shop, and I can practically see his concern pouring from his prying eyes. Obviously, something's wrong. All three of us have chosen to sit alone, spread out on the bus like strangers. Two hours ago we were goofing off and laughing and now we're solemn, tired, and awkward.

Stepping from the bus, Seth offers the driver a 'goodnight' and we all make the silent walk to Seth's truck.

"Shon," he says, his voice thick with weariness.

She stops beside him and without a word, he slides his keys into her hand. "Drop me off first, if you don't mind."

She nods, watching as he collapses into the backseat. She glances my way, a look of sympathy on her face and I know the feeling is directed at me, not Seth. She's sorry I had to witness this. She's sorry that my brilliant plan for a fun night out got so royally screwed up. And I was right, I hate how that look makes me feel. Once again I'm an outsider. A stranger to who Seth really is.

He always seems so strong. So self-assured, and yet humble in his confidence. He knows what he wants and he lacks any fear in obtaining it, but he's also quiet and sweet... and apparently more broken than I ever could have imagined. Deep inside of Seth Vans, he harbors a crippling fear. A fear so powerful that it literally paralyzed him tonight.

Tonight Seth Vans had a panic attack.

My chest aches. I'm not one to cry, but understanding what I know about Seth—knowing how gentle of a soul he is—and then realizing that he's hurting. I shake away the pity as tears prick the backs of my eyes, causing my nose to run. I sniff away the sensation and slip into the passenger seat.

We barely make it out of the parking lot before Shonice is turning on the radio to drown out the quiet. I chance a look behind me to find Seth laying in the backseat, one arm draped lazily across his face. For a moment, I think he's sleeping, and then his hand curls into a fist and he kicks the door.

"Dang it," he hisses, but it lacks any real heat.

He's angry, obviously, but the self-loathing, or disappointment, or whatever it is that he seems to be feeling right now is diminishing his strength. He's weary.

"Seth," Shonice warns, "You can't beat yourself up about this."

"Why not?" he throws back, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "It's been years. Why now? It's not like I haven't been in this situation before."

"Yeah, but always with your buddies," she explains as I pretend not to be listening while I stare out my window. "Tonight was different... and you know why."

That feeling of being watched is almost consuming and I risk peering back at Seth. His eyes flicker away from me just as I turn in his direction and I find annoyance surfacing. I'm irritated by his mysterious glances. I'm irritated that tonight turned out to be a disaster. But mostly, I'm irritated by this secret dialogue going on around me that neither Seth nor Shonice seem eager to clue me in on.

"Why?" I suddenly burst. I have no filter—both a blessing and a curse—and though it's definitely a curse at this moment, I can't seem to find the will to care. "Why was tonight different?"

Again, the two of them share some kind of guarded look in the rearview mirror and I find my hand itching to reach up and smack the mirror off the windshield. For the first time, I realize what an idiot I've been. Believing that I've been accepted into this cliquey circle of friends.

"I'm sorry Mercy," Seth sighs, encouraging me to twist around in my seat enough to see his face. "I'd really like to not talk about it."

I nod, but I don't understand. Pinching my lips together, I flick my attention to Shonice for a brief moment. "Why not?"

"Look," Seth says, scooting closer to the edge of the seat so he's seated directly between the two front seats. "Shonice has seen this stuff for years. I'm not purposely trying to exclude you, but she gets me already."

"And I don't," I say. "I get it. But, I'd like to understand better. I want to help."

"But I don't want that!" His voice is raised, but still calm. He's trying to get a point across, and yet, I just continue to dig and dig.

"Why not?"

"Because," he says, now exasperated, "It's embarrassing!"

I stare at him for several seconds watching his eyes dance between mine. He's embarrassed of himself and I find that fact to be completely heart-shattering. Seth is the most perfect person I've ever met, despite his brokenness.

"I'm sorry," I sigh, shaking my head. This argument wasn't worth the guilt it produced. Seth doesn't deserve my irritation. My curiosity is making me nasty and I know I'll regret it tomorrow if one more word flutters past my lips.

Turning up the music, I try my best to drown my selfish feelings. I still want to know more about Seth, but pushing any harder will only push him away. Instead, I lay my head against the window and watch the headlights part the darkness in front of us until we pull up outside Seth's dorm.

"See you tomorrow," Shonice says, watching him exit his own vehicle.

I turn to see him push his door open, and sensing my eyes on him he turns in my direction, a soft smile curving his lips. He's hurt and exhausted, but still smiling, and it's making my stomach twist into a painful reminder of how thoughtlessly I acted. I made the moment about me and Seth didn't need my jealousy on top of his pain.

I smile back, hoping it'll be enough to ease his mind.

The moment we park outside Samantha Hall, I expect Shonice and me to part ways. Instead, she shuts off the truck and shifts in her seat to face me. My hand is frozen on the door handle, but the look on her face has my hand slowly dropping into my lap.

"No one's ever been able to do that," she murmurs, eyes bypassing me to stare through the passenger window.

"Do what?" I ask, drawing her attention to my face.

"No one's ever been able to pull Seth out that easily." She clears her throat, sinking her fingers into her thick, black coils as she considers her words. "He's been through a lot and he has a really hard time opening up to people. He hates that you saw this tonight."

"I don't," I say abruptly. "I don't hate it. For the first time, I felt like I really saw him. He's so closed-off—a walking contradiction—and I keep wanting to understand how he can be so reserved and secretive, and so kind and accepting all at the same time."

Shonice smiles but doesn't respond.

"I mean, what kind of person is so accepting and so guarded all at the same time?" I ask.

"I think that's the problem," Shonice says softly, "he wants to accept everyone, but he hasn't yet accepted himself."

I want to sink into her words. How tragic for them to be true. His exterior is so bold and tangible, but inside he's a wounded boy—just a wisp of a person that can't be understood. To really know him, I have to reach into the darkest parts of who he is and pull his fears out into the open... but they're merely wisps. Who can grasp a wisp?

"Tonight though," she continues, pausing to rethink her words. "Something happened tonight. I've known Seth since we were kids; I've seen my fair share of Seth stuck in these internal struggles that leave him debilitated. Never once have I managed to pull his attention away from his fears like you did."

Shonice turns to face me, her hand reaching to rest against my knee. I glance down at it before looking up at the sincerity swimming in her dark eyes.

"Despite how you feel right now," she murmurs. "Despite what you think... he trusts you."

My heart hammers against my breast bone and I blink several times as I coax my thoughts into understanding how this could be true.

"Please," Shonice nearly begs, squeezing my knee enough to secure my attention on her, "don't let that be his mistake."

---

Thoughts about Seth. What do you think caused his reaction?