I was on the verge of another panic attack. I could feel my heart quickening, threatening to beat out of my chest. Each breath I took stung my sides, like someone had stabbed me just between my ribs.

Noah had barely let me come into work. After my panic attack yesterday, he had dropped everything at work and rushed over to calm me down. I had ended up leaving my shift early, much to the dismay of my boss. But Noah had said later that he had explained things to him, or at least some things. Noah had told him I had been through a recent trauma and that posttraumatic stress sometimes causes things like that to happen.

When I had shown up to work today, my boss had been a little understanding but miffed nonetheless. He sat me down in his office in the back when I first came in and explained that it couldn't happen again. He didn't have enough waitresses on staff to call someone on such short notice for me.

I had thanked him and told him that it wouldn't happen again.

And yet here I was and it was about to.

The man from yesterday was back, sitting in the same booth he had sat in before. He wore the same simple leather jacket from yesterday with a white muscle t-shirt tucked below it. His baldhead almost shined in the light of the diner.

It wasn't so much about being afraid of him this time as being completely and utterly embarrassed. I had collapsed in his booth like some sort of epileptic. He was probably hoping I wouldn't be back to work anytime soon.

Now I was wishing I had stayed at him.

"Don't worry, sug."

I turn to look at Patsy who is watching me watch the customer from yesterday. Patsy was the first of all the waitresses to actually great me with some kindness. When I had shyly pointed that fact out to her she had said it was her Southern hospitality. Northerners, she explained to me, just didn't have any sense of kindness or decency. She went on to explain to me about her Southern upbringing and how her mother had even named her after a country singer. She had conveniently left out the part about how she had ended up here in the state of Washington so far from home. But I hadn't asked, either. No one knew better than me that if she didn't want to share, than it probably wasn't a great story.

"I can take him if you need me, too," she continued before bumping her shoulder with mine. I tried not to flinch away from the gesture that I only knew was meant as a sign of comfort.

"My tables are pretty busy but if you cover one of mine, I'll cover him." She nodded towards the stranger again and I looked back at him.

He was staring right at me with those almost black eyes. I wondered if he knew how unnerving they are. He probably did and he probably used it to his advantage.

"I'll take him," I whisper to her as I lean on the counter to catch my breath. "I have to face my fears sometime."

"Well, you just remember what the boss man said," she said. "If you have another panic attack your ass is out of here and I'd hate to see you go." She rests her hand on my shoulder and gives a little squeeze before she rushes off towards one of her tables.

I'm left staring back at the stranger, as if we're in some sort of staring contest. Surprisingly enough, I get lost in his dark pools, even from this far away. His eyes really are like a dark pool of water and I can't find an edge to swim to.

He breaks eye contact and I almost feel as if someone has slapped me back to reality. He's reaching into his jacket pocket and before I even think about panicking, he pulls a cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

I shake my head at myself in exasperation and turn around. Something tells me he's just going to want the same exact thing as yesterday. A cup of coffee, black.

So I grab the coffee pot and slowly make my way over. I don't want him to think I'm ease dropping, but at the same time, I want to pour his coffee while he's still on the phone so I don't have to speak to him. When I get to his booth, the only thing I notice is that his voice is still as deep as I remembered it.

If I wasn't so skittish and the circumstances were different, I would have even though his voice was a turn on. But now, these days, there's no one that looks like him that could actually turn me on. Actually, no one had really managed to do that since the incident.

Just as I've started to fill up his cup, he snaps the phone closed and reaches down to put it back in his pocket.

I can hear his voice mumble something, but I ignore it, figuring it's a last mumble to something the other person had said on the phone. When I hear it again, louder this time, I let me head slowly turn up to meet his eyes.

"You're name."

It's not a question. It's a demand. And unlike yesterday, I don't find myself immediately going into a panic attack or having flashbacks. Instead, I'm just sucked further into his dark pools. The chocolate is surrounding me, almost like a comforting blanket, which is odd because his eyes are the least comforting pair I've ever seen in my entire life. And that's saying a lot.

"Audrey," I whisper.

He leans back, as if to contemplate the meaning of my name, and gives me a once over. Just a quick sweep of the eyes from my feet to my head and then back down again. Nothing sexual about it, but it does scream predator.

"Audrey," he says, and the way he says it almost makes it sound like a brand new name I've never heard before. "I'm Happy."

I can't crack a smile. Sure, the name, or nickname, is odd; because this guy definitely isn't happy in any sense, but my body is starting to enter fight or flight and I know at any minute I'm going to have to bolt to avoid another panic attack.

"You scared of me, Audrey?"

I don't know how to answer. I really don't. Even if I did know how to answer I probably still couldn't. My mouth feels like it's full of cotton. I need a drink of water, or something. It feels like I've been walking in the desert for days.

"Audrey," he says my name again and I look down at the table quickly before I can get caught in his eyes again.

"No," I almost spit, before I scurry away.