“Oh God, have you even gotten any sleep?” I blurt out shamefully to the tall man before me.
Derek’s face is quite tired, but there’s something else being held back at the same time. Does he have something to tell me? Am I fired?
Dammit, I hate this suspense.
“I was just heading to bed, yes,” Derek answers, still feeling the need to raise his eyebrow at me. “But I heard a noise coming from our shared wall?”
I drop my face to the ground, looking at my bare feet as I try to explain what’s going on.
“Sometimes my anxiety kicks into high gear, and I find little simple coping mechanisms. One of them, sadly, is where I find my hands knocking on a wall every few seconds in a pattern.”
I can feel the heat in my cheeks, hell, in my bones. God,
