Chasing Ellie

15. Acute Stress Response

Darren Hannigan

Highschool parties are never what they seem like they should be. Though that might just be the influence of tv. There is no dark, hazy rooms, or thumping bass. My house does not resemble a Rave. Instead there's a group of guys over taking the couch playing COD as they knock back warm keg beer. There's girls lingering by the sides of the room, chatting back and forth as they peer through their lashes at the boys.

The only thing that sort of resembles a classic party is the beer pong game that's happening in the kitchen on the fold out table Peter brought inside from the garage. In his words "it's not a party without beer pong" and considering the group that's huddled around the table cheering, I suppose he's not wrong.

Sawyer's voice booms through the kitchen as the ping pong ball lands neatly in a cup on the other side. Every one hollers, laughing loud as they urge Ben to take another drink. Caitlin tries to wrap herself around Sawyer in a congratulatory hug and he slinks out of it.

If Caitlin didn't think I was creepy I'd tell her Sawyer doesn't have interest in her, he just keeps her around for a back up. Don't get me wrong, I've never heard him be mean to her. But still, he settles every time they get together. And it's always because he's tired of being single. I'm not even one hundred percent convinced that Caitlin really likes Sawyer back. I think it's more of a comfort thing but who am I?

Just creepy, apparently.

Pulling my phone out, I check for what seems like the millionth time for a text from James. Part of me is waiting for a "sorry not coming" text. It's like looming devastation behind a faulty retaining wall and I'm just slapping anything and everything on it to keep it back.

This is the first time that it's a good possibility so I'm trying to keep myself realistic about it. Manage expectations.

Easier said than done because every time I think about Ellie walking through the door to my home, my skin flushes and a nervous smile pulls at my lips. I've been hiding it all night.

Leaving the kitchen with a refill, I take a sip of beer and step into the living room. Cora is leaning against the wall, watching Peter who's pretending she doesn't exist from across the room. He's been all smiles and laughter as people showed up, greeting him with hugs and questions about college. He's in his element, the center of attention and even though I know part, or maybe all of it, is an act, I'm glad that Peter seems happy tonight.

Cora not so much. She looks heartbroken as she peers over the rim of her cup. I'd dwell on it more but before I have the chance, the front door swings open and James fills the frame.

His gray eyes meet mine instantly, filled with mischief and laughter. My heart might have stopped though, breath getting caught in my throat, pulse pumping in my ears as I wait. Did she come? Is she here?

Oh god. I'm already sweating. All the scenarios I've played out in my head countless times today fly from my mind, replacing all the space with panic. What if she says something to me? What do I say back?

The fight or flight response is also known as acute stress response. It's a physiological response triggered by the release of hormones that prepare your body to either stay and deal with a threat or to run away to safety.

In my case interacting with Ellie is the threat and my body wants to run at the prospect. Nevermind what I want.

I'd like to appear confident as I stride up to her and say something witty and put together like everyone else seems to be able to do. But I am not everyone else.

I'm me and I don't do well with social engagements of any kind let alone speaking to the girl that I am absolutely weak in the knees for.

The sound of Peter's voice as it belts over the rest of everyone's draws my panic thoughts back to the present and I watch him throw an arm around Wes.

And there she is, her blond hair falling down her back, the hot pink ends meeting her side where her white crop top ends. She's got a thing for crop tops and I can't say I mind. A pair of red and black plaid pants and her vans. Her small frame swallowed by a gray cardigan.

It's what she wore to school which I love. Unlike every other girl she hasn't changed and preened herself to come hang out and drink beer and get drunk with her peers. She has remained flawless Ellie with that baffling air of indifference and if I wasn't already a nervous mess I would most certainly be now.

I turn and leave the living room, my skin slick with sweat. Instantly my mind decides that a quiet corner where I can disappear into the shadows and avoid Ellie at all costs is the most desirable way to navigate this and that's exactly what I'm trying to do when a hand wraps around my shoulder.

"Whoa whoa whoa." James laughs. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

A ghost would be far better. There is nothing I could possibly say to Ellie that would be cool or charming or confident or interesting.

"She doesn't bite, I promise." He says.

With his arm around my shoulder he spins us back around so the party and all the goers are visible. I avoid looking at Ellie, just incase we might accidentally make eye contact.

"There are so many people, relax." James starts in on a pep talk about how even if I try to talk to Ellie and it doesn't go well no one will remember a thing. He's probably right but it doesn't make me stop sweating.

He is definitely right about the quantity of people currently in my house. Peter still has Wes in his grasp, Wes looks nervous as hell. Brett lingers awkwardly beside him, the two of them clearly got dragged here. And I catch the tail end of Savannah as Ellie pulls her into the kitchen.

Maybe I can just stay in whatever room she's not in.

Seems doable.

"Alright now where's the beer pong table?" James asks, finishing his speech.

His hands clap together, eagerness spilling out of him and I wish more than anything I could be more like James and even Peter.

Instead I point at the kitchen and stay rooted where I am.

                               ———————

How's everyone doing?