I Hold On So Nervously Novels & Stories

He holds me as if I were a lifeline in a storm, as if letting go would mean losing me forever. — Amanda… he murmurs again, voice broken, hoarse with worry. What happened to you? Fuck, I thought… that they… His words hit me like an electric shock. *Who*, "they"? Why this visceral fear, this terror that makes him tremble? I don't have time to ask. My body reacts before my mind. I wrap my arms around his neck, slowly, almost shyly. My fingers sink into his wet hair, plastered to his nape. I hold him back, tight, to anchor him to reality, to calm him as much as to reassure myself.

I nervously tap my foot on the ground. "No, no, you have the right to make your own decision, Demetrius," Hendrix replied with a nervous chuckle. "Alright, I will be anticipating your return soon." With that, the call ends. "Demetrius… he's… he's coming back today," Hendrix stutters. I nod, I am tongue-tied with fear to even say anything. My body feels tense and rigid with anxiety, and I have to force myself to take slow, steady breaths to calm down.

Nudging, bumping into my spine and heightening my already sky-high fear levels. There is another movement of the handle, twisting my wrist to an almost snapping point as I struggle to hold it, then nothing for a moment. I stand listening, waiting, pressing myself firmly against it and wait. I'm trying to figure out if he has decided it’s locked and moving away from me. Too tense to hope for that and poised and still in a horribly long, tense second that seems to last forever.

I take a deep breath to steel my nerves and gather my courage before I launch into the tale I've told no one else. My fingers fidget with the hem of my t-shirt, a nervous habit I've never been able to shake. Colton's gaze locks onto mine, anchoring me against the tumult going on inside.

We stopped outside a room, "She's all yours." I inhaled sharply through my teeth while my heart was ready to flatline. This was the moment I had been waiting for and yet, I was about to die from nerves alone. I held the golden doorknob in my palm and gave myself a pep talk. On three. One. Two. I threw the door open and felt dread capture my body.

Levi held the envelope in his hands, his fingers tracing the edges of it as if unsure whether to open it. The silence was heavy between us, each of us waiting for him to make the first move. I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I had never expected to find myself in this situation, not with Levi’s mother standing before us, and certainly not with her holding something that could change everything. The tension was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.

Kai growls at me, though there is no heat behind it. He may try to hide it. May try to play it cool, but we both know he’s a nervous wreck. “I’m fucking trying” I snarl right back at him. I run my hands through my hair. I always do this when I’m nervous or anxious. “Well, try harder!” Ignoring him, I focus on the entryway to the VIP section of the restaurant. I didn’t want to miss her entering. Actually, I didn’t want to miss anything when it comes to her.

Angelo whispers through the ear piece. Minutes start to tick by, and I watch Marcel obtrusively tap his fingers on the table, making me extremely nauseous for some reason. I'm not sure if out of nervousness or what, but I really wanted to release whatever I feel that is coming up my throat, but I hold it back.

This will be now or now. While feeling so nervous and anxious while waiting for a few moments, I kept walking back and forth inside the restroom. When I was finally ready to see the result, I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes as I was holding it with my trembling right hand. With all the bad things that I have been experiencing and feeling lately, I somehow never felt happier while staring at the two lines that appeared on the thing in my hold.

Alive. Minutes pass. I lose track. I feel every second stretch, elongate, press in. Every small sound—the shuffle of shoes, the soft whisper of gloves against skin, the faint hum of the monitors—beats against me. I lean forward, gripping the edge of the bed. “Hold on,” I mutter quietly, rough, steady, low enough only for me to hear. “I’ve got you. Just stay with me.”