I took a few calming breaths and then reentered the number and stared at it. I should think this through. My relationship with Travis wasn’t problematic at the moment, right? Did I really need this? I gritted my teeth. But I didn’t want to call our date on Saturday a date. I was forcing him to be friendly in public, even while being in a place where no one knew us. My head was so confused.
Closing my laptop, I set my phone on the cushion next to me while I ruminated on things. I had several reasons I hadn’t wanted to be with Travis. First, I was his tutor, and I could lose my job, a job I loved. Second, my father would not approve, and even though he was an ass, I didn’t want to lose my last remaining parent. Third…well, third was my fear of being triggered and losing control. I’d done a good job of keeping that at bay.
I glanced toward my kitchen. But organizing the hell out of my apartment when Travis hadn’t been here might be a sign, along with decluttering to the point of only having the essentials left. As my throat tightened, I set my laptop on the coffee table. How could those things be bad though? I was just a neat person.
I glanced at my phone and then picked it up, noting the time. Now Travis would arrive in fifteen minutes. I had to call and say something. Then at least I could tell him I called and not lie to him.
I dialed the number and set it on speaker.
After a few rings, a woman said, “ASU LGBTQ Help Center. Can I help you?”
“Yes, um…” I cleared my throat. “I’m a student at ASU. A queer student.” My nerves frayed and my hands trembled. I couldn’t do this, damn it.
“Well, you’re in the right place then. What sort of services areyou looking for? We have clubs, support groups, therapy referrals?—”
“I need a therapist.” I swallowed a lump forming in my throat as my vision grew blurry. What the hell? Why did this make me emotional?
“Sure. Are you in danger? Either by someone else or yourself?” she asked.
Danger? Like, was she asking me if I was about to hurt myself? “N-no, I’m not. I’m just looking for a therapist referral. Someone who’s familiar with…” I couldn’t say it because I didn’t know. “With parents who aren’t understanding.” Okay, that was an easy one. Surely, they got a lot of that.
“Of course. We also have support groups for that. If you give me your ASU email, I can send along a list of therapists for you to check out, along with information on support groups. Can I ask, do you know about PFLAG?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of it.” I wasn’t sure from where, though. Maybe a television show? My mouth went dry. I had to give her my ASU email address? Then she’d know my name. “Everything here is confidential, right?”
“Of course,” she said. “I can send you information on PFLAG as well. Where do your parents live? If they’re open to getting help, it’s a great resource for them,” she said.
“I…” Fuck, I wasn’t about to come out to my dad anytime. This was overkill. All I needed was some therapy referrals. “Sure.” I clenched my free hand into a fist on my thigh.
“Okay, give me your email address and the city your parents live in, and I should have the information to you in the next half hour.”
I gave her the information, and as the call ended, knocking sounded at my door. “Fuck, Tex.” I threw my phone onto the coffee table. Why had I called him Tex just now? With my hands still trembling, I stood and shuffled to my door. I had to pull myself together. I’d only made a damn phone call.
The knocking came again.
I swung the door open as a lump climbed my throat, and my breath hitched. Fuck, I was losing it.
“Colton?” Tex tossed his backpack to the floor and wrapped me in a tight embrace. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?” He kissed my head. “Talk to me, please.”
With my voice cracking and my eyes prickling, I said, “I thought I was, but I’m not. I’m not okay.” A sob ripped free from my throat, and I held my breath. I would not break down. This was stupid. I’d only made a phone call. I hadn’t even spoken with a therapist yet.
“I’ve got you.” He pulled my head against his chest. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”
Through a choked laugh, I said, “I called the helpline like you wanted.” I sniffled. “I’m getting names…” I had to stop, or I’d fall apart.
“Good.” He stepped me further into the entry and shut the door behind us, then hugged me tighter. “I guess it was hard to take that first step.”
“Yeah, way harder than I thought it would be.” I breathed in deeply, forcing myself to calm down. If calling the center was that challenging, how horrible would speaking to a therapist be? Would it make me spiral and lose control?
He pressed a kiss on my hair again. “You’re really brave, you know that? Eli once told me only half the population who need therapy actually get it. The number is much lower for men.” He brushed his fingers along my back.
“Yeah.” I didn’t want to talk. Talking might lead to…fuck, losing all control of my emotions. I leaned closer to him, savoring his strength and warmth.
“We can just hang out today if it makes you feel better. No pressure or anything.” He rubbed his cheek in my hair.
“Okay. We can study. That will help me get my mind off it.” My eyes widened. Oh my God, was excessive studying helping me cope? Was being a tutor allowing me to not only use my own studies as a distraction, but the studies of others too? My fucked-up state might be worse than I had realized. This therapist would have plenty to analyze with me.
“Colton?” He freed me, stepped back and held my shoulders, his gaze searching my face. “You can talk to me, too, you know. You don’t have to bury whatever this is.”