"It's just a panic attack." She crossed her arms over her breasts. "I'm fine."
Finally, he moved, dropping his rump right into the standing water and frozen grass as if he didn't even care. "Bullshit. It's not 'just' a panic attack. Classic PTSD, Zara. You're not fine, and hate to break it to you, but you're not gonna be if you keep ignoring it."
"In case you hadn't figured it out, genius, I'm not exactly ignoring it. I'm supposed to be in technical writing. Instead, I'm sitting in the cold rain."
He nodded, those green eyes strangely hollow. "Right. So, about that jacket?" He lifted the flap, proving exactly the one he meant.
"Yeah? Then what about you? It's like thirty-nine degrees! Why the fuck are you out here anyway?"
Jason finally laughed. "Welcome back." He pulled off the jacket and tossed it over to her. "I'm out here because the quiet girl in tech writing screamed her head off and bolted like the Taliban was after her. You getting treatment for this?"
Her eyes flicked across him. Jason wasn't a huge guy. Five-eleven possibly, but probably a bit less. He was a nice-looking man, though, except for the haunted look that clung to him. Leaning forward, she picked up his jacket from the mud and draped it across her chest.
"I can't do the meds," she said softly. "Tried, can't focus on anything. And I need to keep my grades up."
He nodded. "Ok. I know how that is. Wanna talk about it?"
"I thought I was!"
He tilted his head, a damp strand flopping back across his cheek. "Nah. You're talking all the way around it, but not talking about it. Am I gonna make you lose it if I move?"
Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. "No, why?"
That hint of a smile came back, but it was gone before she was sure she'd seen it. "So, probably not rape. If it was, not a white guy." He shifted closer, scooting toward her left.
"No, I wasn't raped." Zara pushed her hands across her face, feeling water trickle off her fingers. "I'm not really sure what freaked me out. I mean, Pennington was talking about serial commas, and then, it's like... everything changed."
"Yeah. He was walking down the blackboard, pounding his fist on where the commas were supposed to be. Saw you twitch on the first one, realized your eyes were blank on the second, and the third? That's when you bolted."
She nodded, well-aware that her cheeks were burning from embarrassment and thankful for the cold air that helped keep her grounded. "I was at St. Mary's in Virginia last semester. Just transferred here two days before this semester started."
"Yeah," Jason sighed, shifting the rest of the way beside her to lean against the tree. He was a good-looking man, and the way his shirt clung across his shoulders wasn't helping. "St. Mary's was a mess. Twenty-seven executed. Lemme guess, you got a real Arabic last name too, huh?"
"Masih. Zara Masih."
He reached over and grabbed her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You should come meet my dog. I'll even throw in a coffee."
"What?" That was the strangest pick-up line she'd ever heard.
Jason chuckled. "Therapy dog, Zara. Crysis is certifiable, well, certified at any rate. I couldn't do the meds either." He tilted his arm and pushed at his sleeve, exposing a small, tasteful tattoo inside his left wrist that looked military. "Three tours in Iraq, two in Afghanistan. Got the dog when I flipped out on my superior."
"I can't." She looked down at her ruined clothes, hating that she couldn't just be normal. She'd just become the person everyone stared at and whispered about behind their hands. "Fuck, I left all my shit in there."
"I got it," he assured her, pointing back to the door of the building where her backpack lay beside another, sheltered from the weather. "So why not?"
"Calculus test, next hour."
He made another understanding noise, then pushed himself to his feet. "Yeah, in about twelve minutes then. If I can get you out of that, will you at least try? I live two blocks away. It's not even a long walk."
"Sure. You get me out of my calc test, and I'll come meet your dog." She peeled away the jacket and offered it to him, but Jason grabbed her wrist instead. Helping her up, he then gestured for her to actually put it on.
"Keep it. Trust me, your shirt really is indecent without it." He smiled, but it was