Ash set her phone aside and waited. She stayed silent while Zach crumpled the paper bag into a ball and tossed it in his trash. He moved back until he was leaning against his bed and sitting directly across from her. He stretched his legs out in front of him and if Ash did the same their feet would touch.

He stared at her but all the strong emotions from before were missing. He looked resigned and tired. Ash looked back and patiently waited for him to break the silence. It took several minutes for him to finally speak.

"Do you understand why you feel the way you feel?" he asked. The question caught her by surprise and she didn't understand it. "Your concern for me. The connection you feel with me," he clarified. "Why you brought me food. Do you understand why you feel that?"

Once she grasped what he was talking about, she turned his question over in her mind. She hadn't really questioned why she was going so far out of her way to help him. She had skipped classes and called out of work because of him and she hadn't thought twice about doing so.

She had been worried he was alone. She had encountered other lonely students before but none of them had ever prompted her to do something about it. As her brain siphoned through the data, a term came to her.

A moment later Zach said it out loud. "The Misattribution of Arousal Theory."

"Misattribution of Arousal Theory," she repeated as her brain provided her a definition.

It was a psychological theory that said in risky situations people tended to create sympathetic links with those close to them. This was because people got confused and connected the physical reactions they experienced in scary situations, not to the situation, but to the person they were with. They had studied it in one of Huxley's classes earlier in the semester.

"When you experience fear your body reacts with an increased heart rate," Zach said, "dilated eyes, rapid breathing, increased blood flow to the muscles, and elevated blood pressure."

He spoke clearly and slowly like he was a teacher explaining a lesson. Or more precisely, like a CIA agent consoling a traumatized victim. "These are also similar reactions someone feels when they are attracted to a person. Often, when two people experience fear together those physical reactions can get confused as feelings for the other person instead of fear."

She grinned as he finished his lesson.

"It was only a sandwich, not a marriage proposal," she joked. She didn't get even the slightest hint of a smile from him.

She reluctantly dropped the smile and thought about what he had said. There was credence to what he was saying. He had taken up a lot of brain space the last four days. He had earned more of her time than anyone had in a long time.

She didn't like to think of herself as the novice on trauma after all the battle scars she had earned, but she knew she was when it came to this situation. She had never been through trauma with someone by her side.

While this situation provided a new side of trauma for her to tackle, she was far more interested in Zach's relationship with the CIA. This Misattribution of Arousal Theory wasn't going anywhere. She had time to wade through her feelings. The same could not be said for Zach.

After the last four days, she figured there was a seventy-two percent chance that he would disappear once she left his room and she would never see him again. Now was her chance to get answers. Or at least try.

"Did the CIA teach you that fancy term?" she asked with a smirk. It wasn't like he could deny that he had worked for the CIA.

For a moment it looked like he might try to deny it, then he nodded his head.

He looked at her thoughtfully before he said, "And...everything you said about your dad?"

He asked in such a gentle way Ash knew she didn't have to give an answer but she had stopped letting her past be something she felt like she had to hide.

"All true," she said. "It's probably thanks to him that I ended up antagonizing a crazy Russian, which probably wasn't the smartest move. I'm guessing that's not how the CIA trained you to react in a hostage situation."

"No, that was a first for me," he admitted.

"But that wasn't the first time you've been kidnapped," she stated.

From the way he had handled himself during the kidnapping, she had guessed he had been in similar situations and his answer seemed to confirm it.

He took longer before he answered this time. His gaze grew distant and Ash wondered where he was in his mind. As the silence dragged on, she began to wonder if she had asked the wrong question. But then she saw his eyes refocus on her.

"No, that wasn't the first time I've been kidnapped," he said.

"Well, now it doesn't feel as much like a special shared experience," she said. "I was terrified but it was probably just another day on the job for you."

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "It was the first time I've been kidnapped by Russians," he offered like he was trying to console her.

"At least we have that," she said. He nodded and the smile never left his face. "What about when you weren't being kidnapped?" she asked. "Were you working on cases?"

He put his smile away as he nodded.

"That is until you quit..." She didn't go as far as asking why he had quit but it didn't take a trained CIA agent to guess where the conversation was going.

"To be honest," he said, "Fayetteville State University sent me a brochure and I just couldn't resist."

Ash laughed loudly. She had seen the university's brochure and there was nothing irresistible about it. Her laugh brought the small smile back to his face and she couldn't help wondering if getting more answers was worth losing the smile again.

But it left his face again as he cleared his throat and his expression grew serious.

"There were some conditions to me leaving," he said. The serious tone of his voice drew Ash's full attention. "The CIA cares about the success and well-being of their agents and one of the conditions for me leaving was mandatory therapy."

Ash nodded. She couldn't imagine the shift from agent to civilian was an easy one and it made sense the CIA felt a responsibility to make sure their trained operatives weren't a danger to themselves or anyone around them.

"I completed my therapy last year," he continued, "but because of the kidnapping the Agency is requiring six more months of therapy."

It only took a minute for Ash to understand what he was getting at.

"Are you saying I need therapy?" she said, feigning offense.

"Yes," he answered bluntly.

"Is this because I yelled at the Russian man?"

"There tend to be residual effects after a traumatic event that can manifest in different ways and take people by surprise." His explanation sounded like a memorized agency line before a small smile appeared in the corner of his mouth. "And, you did yell at your kidnapper."

She smiled, appreciative that he was already comfortable making light of their trauma. That was the only way she knew how to cope.

She thought about what he said and knew he was right. She had experience in yelling at classmates only to realize after the fact she should have been yelling at her father. She had thought about going to therapy before.

She always imagined that being able to tell someone about everything she had been through might lighten the weight on her shoulders but therapy wasn't something a broke college student working two jobs could afford.

"Therapy is expensive," she said.

Zach nodded. "The CIA has a fund to support victims," he said. "I could reach out. They would help pay for therapy."

"I guess it's the least they could do. I did get kidnapped because of one of their agents," she joked.

"And here I was thinking that you shared that story about you and your father because you were trying to tell me that the kidnapping wasn't my fault," he said with a wry smile.

"You were right," she said. "But the agency doesn't have to know that."

He grinned and it felt like they were conspiring together.

"You'll go to therapy?" he asked.

    "You'll get the agency to pay?" she countered. He nodded. "Okay," she agreed.

"Okay," he echoed her.

Ash sat back against the wall as she let the idea sink in. She was going to go to therapy. Someone would learn about all that she had been through. She wondered if there was anyone out there who could handle it. She had been through a lot.

Then she looked at Zach and thought that if there was a therapist out there who could handle Zach and his past then there was someone out there who could handle her's. She imagined her issues were a walk in the park compared to his. Then she wondered if he had to go to a special CIA therapist because most of his problems were probably classified.

"Do you have to go to an agency therapist?" she asked him.

He looked at her thoughtfully and she knew he had heard her question but the next moment he was standing and stretching.

"It's late," he said through a fake yawn. "We both need sleep before classes tomorrow."

He didn't look at her as he crossed the room and opened the door.

What conspiratorial ground they had found a moment before was gone. He had shut the door in his wall and Ash was on the outside. She stood, accepting that the night was over.

Something about the conversation didn't feel final and she let a tiny part of her hope there might be a friendship in their future.

She collected her things. "I'll save you a seat in class tomorrow," she told him as she left his room.

She knew it was a fifty-fifty percent chance that he would sit in the seat she saved for him, but that was a much higher chance than it would have been the day before. She considered that a victory as she walked back to her dorm.

**********************************************************************

Holy hot pockets!!

*falls dramatically to the floor* This is too much! I can't handle this! One moment he's smiling and joking, making my heart do a little jig!

*sits up* But can I even love him? Or is it the trauma of going through something traumatic together that's made me bond to him?

*flops back* What's love anyways!! Wahhhhh.

Okay, if you're less dramatic than me (highly likely) then leave your thoughts here. 🗯💭💬

I think this is a legit question we, as readers, should be asking ourselves: do we love the main love interest because they are worth loving or does that trauma of knowing one day they will leave our lives make us believe we love them?

Okay, that's an easy answer: yes, definitely, peanuts, and half jelly bean.

I mean yes the half a jelly bean does throw off the equilibrium in certain aspects but that's only if the love interest has two different eye colors, so I still stand by my answer.

If my answer didn't make any sense, congratulations for having a front room seat to my brain.

Now, as always, the demands of this life force me to make this request of you: vote, comment, follow.

Or not. Maybe go eat a jelly bean. If enough of us do it might be easily factored out of my answer.