Tess had forgotten the touch of a man's hands. She had always admired how big there were compared to hers.

She can't remember the last time she was in a pitch black room, but it scared her. Is this was blind people feel like?

Through the door, Tess and Eric can hear the gunman yelling and talking to what seems to be a cop, although they can't hear the cop. They've been hearing his nervous ranting and threats for the past hour.  

Tess holds on to her knees and trembles in place, unable to control herself. Her mind runs away, her muscles tense.

It's anxiety, and Tess knows it. It always starts with tension in her fragile, tiny body, then her brain catches up and tells her to dive into panic, convincing her that she's insane and stuck in her own head.

She feels a pair of large arms wrap around her like a couple of boa constrictors. 

"Sssh. It's okay," says a strong, confident voice over and over.

She feels like there's nothing left to do under these circumstances except cry, as quietly as she can, until her hellish imagination shows her mercy.

It's not like crying ever helped before. It just felt like the natural thing to do, and people always seem to understand. Except her mother. She never understands.

Eric brings his knees together at the same time his large hands rub her arms for warmth, bringing her back closer to his chest. He brings his lips to her left ear in the darkness. "Everything will be okay. We'll be out of here soon."

Tess can feel the anxiety worsen. She sinks deeper and deeper into her thoughts, losing touch with her five senses along the way. 

She remembers the first time she tried an edible, and how she would have given anything to escape the nightmare she experienced when the THC kicked in an hour after taking it. It was like losing touch with any sense of who she was.

Then, as fast as the panic came, it begins to melt away under the comforting pressure of the man holding her.

She slowly starts to find herself again among the madness. 

The anxiety begins transforming. What was previously tension and fear of the unknown became something else, and Tess knows that it is, even if she denies it.

Seriously, girl. Not now.

She doesn't want to think about it, but there's something medicinal about this stranger's protective nature, calm demeanor, low voice, and warm body, in a close, dark space. And those arms.

She closes her eyes and dips her toes, just a little, into this odd and delicious arousal.

It makes her feel like a jerk for having been such a bitch a few moments ago. 

I was so, so bad.

She bites her lip. I need to be punished...

The naughty thoughts serve as a good distraction from the danger, but the danger is what's driving the naughty thoughts. Something's got to give, no matter what her lonely dry spell has to say about it.

She takes his hand and holds it close, like a teddy bear. She needs to reaffirm to herself that what's holding her is a human being.

"It's going to be alright," says Eric. 

How can he be so sure?

There was a pause filled with nothing put Tess's sniffing and hiccups.

Eric clears his throat. "I'm Eric," he whispers.

She takes a deep breath. "Tess."

He loosens his grip on her. "Tess, listen. I'm going to open the door a crack to see—"

"No!"

"Ssh."

She pulled him closer, digging her nails in like he's the one giving her air.

Tess knows shes using feminine vulnerability to get him to obey, but she doesn't care. It feels nice to feel beautiful again. Plus, this keeps him safe, too. It serves them both.

Eric sighs, whispering things to himself that Tess can't understand while he thinks.

"Wait," he says. "I have an idea."

He tilts all his weight to one side of his hips, reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out his iPhone. 

The once pitch-black air is pierced with Smartphone touchscreen light.

"Oh, perfect. I'm so glad I didn't crack the screen."

Tess keeps her eyes closed, but she can hear the sound of fingertips skating across touchscreen glass. 

In a flash, she remembers why it is she feels so safe where she is. It isn't just because she's enveloped in the most masculine arms she's ever been in, but also because the man holding the gun doesn't know they're in there.

"Are you calling the police?", she asks in a whimper.

"Yes. We're getting out of here."

She turns her torso just enough to face him and snatches the phone from his hands. "Don't."

Eric can see her face with the small amount of light coming in. "We have to let them know we're here."

"He's already talking to the cops. Let them take care of this."

"But if they know it's not just the cashier he's taken hostage, they can bring more backup. Maybe scare him into letting us go. This could be our only chance of getting out of here."

"He doesn't know we're in here," says Tess. "If you call the cops, they'll tell him where we are. At least from here we're far from the gun."

Eric sighs, as if he just lost a sucker's bet. "I can tell them to keep our location a secret."

"You think they'll listen to you?"

He pauses. "I mean, you don't think they would?"

Tess shakes her head.

Eric rests his head on the wall, conflicted.

She takes his hand again and brings it to her chest. "We can tell them where we are and our lives are in their hands, or we can hold off and they'll be in ours."

"A cop would do a better job protecting you than me. I'm just some guy who came to a convenience store to buy beer. I'm not Jason Bourne."

Tess parts her lips a bit. "I trust you," she says in an exhail.

She prays that her innocent schoolgirl charm works. Because she actually does trust him. But what other choice does she have now?