My heart thunders as my eyes widen, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words while I find myself locked within his mesmerizing, heated eyes. I feel myself leaning forward, and I’m unable to stop.
His eyes triangulate between my eyes, lips and back to my eyes as a vein in his jaw feathers.
Will he kiss me? Do I want him to?
Before I can get answers to either of my questions, Martha strolls right to our table, her voice washing over us like a bucket of cold water that has us both pulling back.
“Here’s your food. I hope you enjoy, darlin’.” With that, she’s gone as if she didn’t just stop her diner from catching fire.
Her diner might be safe, but my shorts—hisshorts—are an entirely different story as I feel the telltale of wetness between my legs.
We both clear our throats and reach for the glass of water on the table, drowning it in one go.
We dig into our food, not saying a word.
Regardless, my heart warms up as the weight of his words settles between my ribs, the fissure that formed filling with gratitude and warmth.
* * *
“You have to put yourself out there, Andie,” Dr. Laura emphasizes without making me feel inadequate about myself.
That’s why I love her. She doesn’t let our sessions seem like professional therapy, though you gain all the benefits and outcomes of it. Talking with her once a week is like catching up with a friend.
I know as a therapist it’s practically her job to create a safe environment for people to open up to her so that she can dissect and help us through the rough patches in our lives.
But the thing is, she doesn’t make me feel like I’m a patient with a problem; with her, it feels like venting and not having judgment or criticism thrown back in your face.
She truly cares, and it shows with the way shetreats me, her kindness and warmth barreling toward me even though she’s sitting behind her laptop screen, with glasses perched on her nose.
Dr. Laura, or as she asks me to call her, Nancy, looks at me over the rim of her glasses, jotting down notes. Her dark hair with strands of gray neatly cut into a bob, giving her an edge. This woman looks smart, and she knows it.
I wish I could be more like her—confident in myself. But that’s what I’m here for.
When Nancy quirks an eyebrow at me through the screen, I remember that she said something about putting myself out there before.
Now, the thing is, she doesn’t know about the deal between Noah and me. No one does as per our agreement. So, she now believes that after that ruined date with Sean—which led to everything between Noah and me after I got wasted and asked him to teach me things in the bedroom—I haven’t gone out with anyone else.
I play along with the ruse. “I don’t want to, Nancy. Boys are stupid. I’d have better luck finding a partner if I were into women,” I sigh, with a roll of my eyes as I lean back on my couch, the laptop perched on the table.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
I ignore that voice in my mind that confronts me and reminds me of Noah Miller. It’s been a week since we last saw each other. Both of us are busy with our hectic schedule—he with the playoffs and me with the year-end function at school.
“You need to let go of the past, Andie. As much as I hate to say it—and trust me, I really do—some people will never get over themselves or accept that they’re wrong. They’d do everything but let go of their prejudices and outdated mindset, no matter how much they hurt others,” she states matter-of-factly, and all the nights I cried myself to sleep flash before my eyes, rattling me up inside.
I sober up at her straightforwardness, absorbing what she’s saying even if it seems heavy for a Friday evening as I lounge in my shorts and Noah’s hoodie—yeah, I didn’t give it back, nor did he ask me to.
Nancy continues as her arms rest comfortably in front of her, “That doesn’t mean that you stop living your life, Andie. There are good people out there, too—people who would appreciate your beauty and kindness, both inside and out. You’re far too young to shut people out. Don’t dothat and live, Andie. Or one day, you might end up regretting it.”
Her words echo in my head long after I’m in bed for the night, or at school the next Monday, or having my lunch the next day.
I wonder if there’s anyone out there who’ll accept me just as I am. No matter how much I try not to, my mind only conjures up one face again and again.
A bearded face with eyes so green, you feel alive when you look into them. The last words he said to me imprinted in my heart.
‘They were stupid enough to let you go. I’m not, Andie.’
And for the rest of the week, as I work myself to the bone, I keep wondering one thing and only one thing.