77. Anti-Psychotic Drugs

Just standing beside him, having no knowledge or skill, makes me feel like a decorative item hanging on his arm.
A pretty face he can look at when he gets bored.
*Is this what I am?*
A plus one, he would just probably shrug off his arm after the event ends.
My anxiety spirals out of control and I feel that same tightening feeling in my chest, which makes me want to cry.
“Excuse me.” I whisper lowly, before picking myself and walking away silently.
As I walk through the elegant crowd, I couldn’t help but feel this vast gap between me and everyone else in the room.
I don’t belong here, in between these people.
I don’t even have a degree or knowledge to engage in their conversation. Upon that, I have no idea what I am going to do in my final year project or even after I pass out.
*I am completely clueless about my future!*
I stop at the refreshment center and pick up a clear bottle of water. My hands fumble as I try to open its cap.
*Hell!* I can’t even pretend that I am okay.
Dakota was right, I am useless.
My breath rises and the choking feeling in my chest increases. I couldn’t breathe and suddenly the dress feels incredibly tight on me.
*Oh God! Oh God! I can’t.. breathe..*
My heartbeat sky rockets and I part my lips, taking long breaths from my mouth. Yet the tightening pressure in my chest doesn’t fade away.
“Hey, you okay?”
I feel a hand on my back and I turn around to see devastatingly handsome face of a man, whose deep ocean eyes make my heart skip a beat.
“What happened?” Dakota asks, looking highly concerned of me.
“S-Sorry. I made a fool of myself.” I break down in uncontrollable tears.
“Shhh.” He shush me, and grab my arm, guiding me towards a quieter corner. Numerous eyes follow us, and the weight of guilt increases in me.
“Emara, look at me.”
I look up at those green enigmatic eyes, as they stare back at me with utmost seriousness.
“Take deep breaths. You didn’t make a fool of yourself. Okay?” He tells me softly, like talking to a child.
“I am so sorryy. I didn’t-t mean to-o” I whisper in a choking voice, and the tears won’t stop rolling down my cheeks.
“Shh” Dakota shushes me onces again and crack opens the lid with one hand. “Drink water.” He instructs me passing the bottle back.
I hesitantly take a few sips, aware of the unwanted eyes on us. I was supposed to assist him here, not him assist me in between my anxiety attack.
“Look at me.” Dakota says softly, raising his hand to my face, but he stops and retrieves his handkerchief to gently wipe away my tears.
Oh, my makeup! Leo and Micky would have killed me by now.
“Just take deep breaths, and keep drinking.” He advises me and I do as he says. The choking feeling in my throat subdues as I gulp more water.
“You are doing fine.” Dakota tells me. “And don’t worry about those old men, they are silently freaking out about their own expiration dates.”
I chuckle through my tears.
“You are made up of Cosmic dust, you are no less than any human. Remember that.”
His words penetrate deep within me and I couldn’t help but stare at him, feeling an intense pull of gravity towards the light in his eyes.
“It took billion years for all those minerals to turn into bones. So do not undermine yourself.” He says, offering me his handkerchief, before gently placing a hand on my back.
Gratefully, I accept his hanky murmuring slowly, “Thank you.”
Dakota stands there by my side, with his hand rubbing my back, supporting me, warming me, waiting for me to calm down.
“Looks like your makeup is tears proof.” He says, after observing my face.
“Oh? I guess those makeup artists knew I was gonna fuck up.” I cry, sniffing in his handkerchief.
*Even his handkerchief smells good!*
“Why didn’t you introduce yourself as a writer?” He asks, rubbing his palm on my back.
“I forgot.” My voice tiny like my confidence.
“You even missed the perfect chance to tell them you took my interview. The one you blew up.” He teases me with a smirk.
“I-I couldn’t think of anything. Everything just slipped from my mind and I don’t know why I started crying.” I complain frustratingly, hiding my stupid face in his handkerchief.
“It’s okay. Drink this.” Dakota offers, extending his glass.
I look up and stare at the yellow colour liquid with bubbles emerging from its bottom. *It looks shady AF!*
“You will feel good.” He assures me, still warming my back with his hand.
I take the slender glass from him and cautiously sip the fizzy, golden liquid that seems to be squeezed from a rare flower which only blooms under a celestial light.
“What is this?” I ask curiously, licking my lips. It tastes sweet, tangy, and close to perfection.
“Champagne.”
I gasp, staring at the lively dance of bubbles in the glass, then take a few more desperate gulps of this heavenly nectar which surpasses anything I have ever drink.
It literally feels like Timothée Chalamet on my tongue. *Smooth and lavish.*
“Enough.” Dakota chimes, before taking the glass from me.
“I don’t want you to start dancing here, or worse.. start a strip show.” He taunts me with his narrowed eyes.
“Looks like I traumatised you with my dancing and stripping.” I tease him, to which he actually nods, agreeing.
“Your moves haunt me even in dreams.” Dakota comments, shaking his head like shooing away a nightmare.
Even with tears in my eyes, I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
“So weird.” He whispers to himself, before taking a large sip and chucking the glass away. He waits for me to calm down again, but this time from laughing.
“Feeling better now?” Green eyes show genuine concern, as they observe me.
“Kind of.” I tell him, with a smile.
I am really touched by how he stayed by my side when I was dealing with my anxieties and put an effort to help calm my nerves down.
“Great. Let’s go meet Elon Musk then.” He says excitedly.