He takes a fortifying sip of his coffee. It has cooled to the point that he won't scald his tongue or the roof of his mouth, but no so much to loose the comforting warmth. He inhales deeply, trying to draw in strength along with the heady scent.
He can't think of the last time he was this nervous. He's had performance jitters before. But, instead of filling itself with a pack of butterflies, his stomach is clenching down into a ball of iron. If he let himself, he might start rocking back and forth. If he let himself, he might run away. Instead, he takes another long sip of coffee.
His stomach drops lower, and his feet feel icy in his shoes, as though blood does not flow down his long legs.
Part of him feels like he should get up and run. He looks around the room jumpily. He feels like prey being cornered by the hunter. He needs to get a hold of himself.
He takes another sip of coffee and another steadying breath. He can do this. He is in control.
Jeff, Nick and David walk over to the table with their drinks. Only David has the good sense to drink hot coffee. Jeff is carrying something pink and fluffy with lots of whipped cream, and Nick has his usual green tea.
They're at a big chain coffee shop populated by a cohort of hipsters and business pounding on iPhones. Both groups give the Dalton Blazer's wide birth, especially when they see the Warbler on David's lapel. Apparently the Dalton Warblers are infamous in Westerville. He imagines it may have something to do with the club's tendency to jump on furniture.
"So…" David's voice trails off uncomfortably.
He is clearly not the only uncomfortable person. Part of him wishes Trent had come. Nick has Jeff and David as his allies. He feels alone, even though he knows they're all here to support him.
"So, about what Nick told you?" He sounds tentative, but his voice does not shake or crack. He is grateful for the small things. "Do you, like, have questions?" He hates filler words. He has strived to strike them from his vocabulary. It's a sign of how nervous he is that things slip into his vocabulary.
Jeff looks uncomfortable. "Not right now," He says, quietly.
David sips his coffee. "Is there anything we need to do to help?"
"Don't tell anyone, please." The words rush out before he means them to. "Other than that, I'm handling it fine."
Nick mutters something that sounds like "Bull shit. You're out of control."