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"So, I heard you have a boyfriend." 

Mandy slid into the chair next to me during lunch, grinning widely. I nearly choked on a piece of my tuna sandwich, then swallowed it down with difficulty. 

Mandy's smile turned even more smug as she leaned her elbow on the table and leaned towards me. "Who is it?" 

"Where did you even hear I have a boyfriend?" I asked after several gulps of water, taken just to stall and recover from my shock. 

Both Becky and Jonah were looking at us now. Neither of them were curious like Mandy. Jonah knew the answer, and Becky just seemed annoyed at Mandy for poking her nose everywhere all the time.

"The guys on the football team said it," Mandy replied, blinking innocently. "Julian asked me if I knew who it was."

I had absolutely no idea which one of the jocks was Julian, but apparently he knew me. Oh, the endless, sucky perks of being coach Turner's son. But how did Julian the jock find out? Did Corey talk? 

A sudden cold chill ran down my spine. 

Atticus. If the football boys were talking about it, I could only imagine his state of mind right now. His brain wouldn't be just fried. It had probably melted into a soup by now. 

Don't panic I quickly texted to Atticus under the table, before turning back to Mandy. 

"Well, they're wrong," I replied, deciding to go with the same joking, light tone I would've used if it wasn't true. "If I had a boyfriend, I'd hope I would be the first to know. Wish it were true, though."

Mandy was thrown off. I'd successfully burst her bubble. No, wait, I'd cheered to soon. She tilted her head to the side. 

"Really? But Julian said he'd overheard coach Turner say it." 

It was my turn to be caught off guard. "Dad's wrong then," I blurted after a millisecond of hesitation. A millisecond too long, as Mandy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

"Okay, I confess: you totally caught us in the bathroom a while ago. It's me!" Jonah suddenly interrupted with a wide grin. He winked at Mandy. 

"No you're not." Mandy scoffed. "I saw you getting it on with Brody in the parking lot yesterday." 

"Yeah, you wish," I teased. I'd caught Jonah's intentions loud and clear: turn it into a running gag that we're dating and put Mandy on the wrong trail. 

"No, you wished!" Jonah childishly retorted. 

Mandy laughed, and the crisis was averted. There wouldn't be a large scale data leak, no whistleblowers of Snowden proportion. Just Jonah, texting me 'be more careful' later while Dad, Atticus and I were in the car, on our way home. Oddly enough, Dad didn't ask me anything about my so-called 'boyfriend.' I still didn't know how he found out. 

I didn't need to ask if Atticus had heard too, I could tell by his clenched jaw and his sour expression. He hadn't replied to my text, and I felt like I shouldn't say anything else until we arrived home, and were safe in my attic room. 

We were safe from the parents today, too. Chiara had insisted Dad took her out for dinner together before the football match tonight (she'd teased him with the fact that he'd completely get sucked into the game and wouldn't pay her any attention for days after). 

After Chiara and Dad left for their date, Atticus wasted no time getting to business. 

"Corey swears he didn't say anything," he told me with crossed arms. "It was coach Turner who did. Julian overheard him say it on the phone."  

Atticus rubbed his eyes. "Corey kept looking at me, though. I think he thinks I should come clean with coach Turner. I told him to drop it, at least until after the match tonight. We need to play well."

Slowly, something started to dawn on me. Corey, Jonah, and Mom knew I had a boyfriend. I hadn't exactly made it sound like a secret on the phone. Maybe Mom thought Dad already knew and said something about it to him.

Before I could share this theory with Atticus though, he suddenly left my room. 

I got up from my bed and walked after him. "Atticus?" 

He wasn't in the hallway, but his own bedroom door was open. Inside, I heard him breathe in, breathe out through through his mouth. 

"Atticus?" 

I pulled his door further open, finding Atticus pacing with his hands behind his head. Then he stopped and coughed, placing a hand on his chest. 

"You— you alright?" I asked, hesitating in the door opening. 

Atticus didn't respond. He stood with his back turned to me, hands pressed to the wall. 

"Just breathe," he muttered. "It's alright. You're not having a heart attack. Breathe." 

Atticus' shoulder rose and fell between hard breaths, and I didn't know what to do. It looked like  panic attack. Could I talk to him? Would that make things worse because of the extra stimulus? I couldn't exactly ask what I should do. That was like asking a drowning person how the lifeguard should hold them as he pulled them up. Shit. What should I do?

I took a step into the room and quietly closed the door. I patted my pocket. My phone was in there. If I needed to call for help, Chiara maybe, I could. 

"Atticus, it goin' to go away, okay?"  I tried. "It's only temporary, you'll feel better in a bit." 

"You're right," Atticus muttered. He pressed a hand in front of his mouth. "Nothing's wrong. There's nothing wrong. Slow down," he continued, pacing and changing position every few seconds. 

A few minutes later Atticus' breathing gradually slowed down until he no longer needed to exhale through his mouth. He stopped pacing, instead sitting down on his bed and wiping his sweaty forehead.  

"Thanks for staying around," he said another few minutes later, glancing up at me. He didn't make eye contact, though, quickly turning back to his hands in his lap.  

"Yeah, of course," I replied quietly. I decided to take him talking to me again as a sign I could sit next to him. 

"Does that, uh... happen a lot?" 

Okay, I really should've just kept my mouth shut. What a dumb first question. Could've gone with are you okay? Or do you want me to get you anything? Or even: what just happened? But no, my brain went with this abomination. 

"No, not anymore. Not lately," Atticus replied. His brows dropped into a frown, fingers curling around his knees. "Sorry." 

"Hey, what are you apologisin' for?" I gave his shoulder a gentle push, then left my hand resting there. 

Atticus hung his head. "It's embarrassing." 

I shifted closer, putting my arm around him. "Let's see: you've seen me fall flat on my face on the football field, sulkin' on the bed surrounded by a mountain of candy wrappers after I thought you'd turned me down, and I once thought you were jealous of me rather than catchin' the hints on what was really going on. Now that's embarrassin'. Not this." 

I swore my heart swelled to twice the size when Atticus actually chuckled at my stupid joke. I was just so happy I could make him laugh, that I laughed too and pulled him into a hug. 

"Hey, how about we watch some Netflix or somethin' and then I warm up our dinner?" I suggested, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Unless you're already hungry. Can I get you somethin' to drink?" 

"No, thanks, I'll puke," Atticus said. "A movie's good." 

I pulled back. "Okay. I'll get my laptop. Uh... before I do that, though." I bit my lip. "Sorry, I'm a bit clueless when it comes to..." 

"Anxiety attacks?" Atticus completed my sentence. 

"Yeah. Is there anythin' I can do? If it ever happens again, I mean."  

Atticus hesitated, slightly opening his mouth, his jaw slack. He averted his gaze. "Uh, you did fine already. Just staying in the room and not getting pissed, laughing or demanding I calm down is good." 

I frowned. "People actually do that?" 

"Oh yeah. Kids will laugh. Bad football coaches will try to yell you out of it." Atticus suddenly blinked rapidly, turning his face away from me. "Sorry," he murmured again, and I still had no idea why he was apologising, but it was clear he needed some down time. Some way to relax and recharge. 

While I still had no idea what I was doing, I went for the best option I could think of. And that was a contemporary, funny romance movie, a kiss, and snuggling on the bed. 

Atticus fell asleep about fifteen minutes in, snoring softly and blowing air onto my hair from above. I propped myself up on my elbow slowly as to not wake him and stared at his now peaceful face. I decided to take it as a huge compliment he relaxed enough to fall asleep next to me like this. 

I wished I didn't have to wake him up after an hour or so, but knew he wouldn't be happy if I allowed him to miss dinner, and most importantly: his football game. He insisted on playing, even after Dad, Chiara and I told him he didn't have to. 

I heard some fans of Pinewood's team in the stands say it wasn't Atticus' best performance, despite the team's victory. I disagreed in silence, staring down at the field where Dad was talking with Atticus. Maybe I wasn't the expert on football, but I saw exactly how tired he was before even starting, and I'd argue tonight was the best game he'd ever played. 


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