Every String Attached | GirlxGirl

Chapter Twenty Nine

The date of Chance's "eviction", as she called it, came two weeks after Shawn had asked her to move out. Sure enough, she was only moving downstairs, onto the fourth floor and slightly to the left of her old home. The layout was the exact same, though it was clear to the girls that it was lacking the plethora of discarded clothing and dirty dishes in each room.

"That'll change," Chance assured Shawn, "don't you worry."

Even York had come to help carry cardboard boxes from one floor to the other. Sometime in the next week, she would be moving her own things into what would become her and Shawn's home.

"Shawn, can you go get a pizza? I'm starving," Chance complained, dropping one of the last few boxes onto her new floor.

"Fine. Where's York?"

"She was right behind me with another box," Chance said nonchalantly. But York wasn't behind her, and was not in the hallway, either.

Panic rose inside of Shawn—climbing up the centre of her chest and all the way up her throat—and she began to understand the calamity of having anxiety attacks. It happened so quickly.

Discarding the box she'd been holding, Shawn ran the length of the hallway, then taking the steps two at a time until reaching the fifth floor.

It was the first moment when she realized both York and Ms. Grey weren't exaggerating when they said to never leave York alone—at least, in public. A man was at her side—too close for Shawn's liking—apparently offering her help. And of course, York didn't have the slightest clue what he was saying, and he was frustrated. He thought she was ignoring her, and being rude. Just like Shawn had thought on the day they first met.

"Hey!" Shawn shouted, her voice echoing throughout the corridor as she marched towards York and the man. She'd never seen him before, but then again, she wasn't familiar with most of the neighbours in the building, let alone on her own floor.

Upon seeing the man turn towards Shawn, York's eyes followed. Shawn immediately noticed the glaze across them, and the way her hands were jittering as she slipped them into her back pockets.

"Can we help you with something?" Shawn asked irritably.

The man scowled. "I was offering this lady help moving. I must have intimidated her a little bit—"

"A little bit?" Shawn repeated. "You're scaring her." She turned to York, and signed, He was asking you if you needed help. Did you shake your head, or something?

York nodded, admitting that she had told the man no.

"My girlfriend doesn't need any help," Shawn spat, "but thanks for asking."

Putting her hand on York's back, she let her palm wander until she was sure that York was feeling more at ease, and watched as the man sulkily walked away.

I'm sorry for leaving you alone.

It's not your fault. I was behind Chance, and I got held up. He came up to me and I was certain he was offering help, but when I shook my head he was getting angry at me.

Shawn moved the blonde bangs out of York's eyes before replying, It's hard, my love. People don't know. I was like that at one point, too.

York took a deep, and shaky breath.

You okay? You can take a break, if you want. I'm going out to get some pizza, do you want to come?

Agreeing immediately, York clung onto Shawn's hand the entire way to the pizza shop—which was only about a five minutes' walk—and back. She was too afraid to be out of Shawn's sight, even for a moment, in fear that something worse may happen and elicit a complete panic attack.