by Havana Scott
I think Blondie’s going to turn around and leave, but Mrs. Gio closes the door gently, so now she’s trapped in my office. We’re alone again, breathing the same air space, our bodies in tune and our heartbeats pounding again. Only this time as doctor and patient.
“Good morning, Miss Verano, I’m Dr. Lee. How may I help you today?” Need another orgasm? Need my balls in your face again? Why, I’d be happy to assist.
Jesus! Fuck this situation.
And my life while we’re at it.
3
ALICE
“What are you doing here?”
A sinkhole appears under me, swallowing me into its mortifying depths. I want to run far, far away, but I’m stuck in it. He’s my new therapist? How did I not know this sooner? The implications of this situation mock me while I stand here, my face on fire.
“I work here. This is my office.” He chuckles like it’s funny. “Have a seat. Please.”
How can he be so calm? Shouldn’t he be freaking out? Does he even realize it’s me? He wasn’t that drunk Friday night. In fact, he wasn’t drunk at all. “You are Roman, right?” I have to ask. I know it sounds stupid. But maybe he has a twin brother or something.
“Dr. Roman Lee, yes. I believe we’ve already met, Miss Verano,” he says to confirm my fear. And there it is—that devilish, amused, smug smile. I want to punch his glasses off his face. “I can understand if this makes you feel uncomfortable. If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t aware that you’d be coming this morning.”
Coming.
His eyebrows rise, and my cheeks flush.
I feel like a twelve-year-old for thinking of that one word, but suddenly, all I can focus on is the fact that I did come—fast and hard—in his presence the other night. While doing unspeakable things to him, too. The kind of things you lock up in a special part of your brain reserved for bad behavior.
I fall into his chair. “Uncomfortable is an understatement, Dr.…Lee.” Great, not only did I suck his cock, but now I have to address him by a superior title. I’m sure he’s getting a kick out of this.
“Miss Verano, Alice…can we talk about this?”
“I don’t think we should.”
“I’m not saying I’ll take your case. I could get into trouble. I’m just saying let’s talk as two people.” He comes around the desk and extends his hand toward me. “So, starting over…I’m Roman Lee.”
I stare at his outstretched hand, remembering the way it cupped my breast and touched my face gently. I’ve done my best to forget him all weekend, but I haven’t stopped thinking about his eyes, the way he carried himself…but especially those hands of his. Hesitantly, I slide mine into his.
It feels nice. Warm and understanding. My heartbeat calms down a notch. “Alice.”
“Nice to meet you.” He leans against his desk. From this angle, I’m at the same level I was while staring up at him Friday night through lustful eyes. He must realize this because he sits in the chair opposite me and clears his throat. “Look, you came to me for help, and I might still be able to help you. It could be you only need a quick pep talk, not full therapy. Boom, it’s over with in two minutes.”
“Can’t you get in trouble for talking to me even one minute?”
“I can, yes, but I can also destroy your file the second you leave here, and I can also recommend a different therapist. I have a whole list here of off-campus doctors. Who’s your insurance?” He reaches for my open file on his desk.
My brain isn’t working at the moment. “Humana? I don’t know.”
“Yes, Humana.”
My “detachment issues” are right there for him to plainly see. This is so embarrassing. The man I detached myself from on Saturday morning is the same one scheduled to analyze me today. I want to disappear in a plume of Alice-shaped smoke.
“I won’t bill your insurance, and you’ll get back your co-payment that you gave Mrs. Gio before you came in. That way, I didn’t receive compensation for this conversation.”
“What does it matter?” I ask. “We’re not going to talk.”
“But I want to,” he says. “Off the record.”
Off the record. In theory, it should be fine. We could talk one time, I can tell him what’s bothering me, and we can go our separate ways. Except, I have a pretty good imagination, and all I can imagine is this—word of this will somehow get around to my dean at the engineering school, my father will find out, and worst of all, I’ll get kicked out of the prestigious program I’ve fought like crazy to get into.
Blaketon has one of the best engineering schools in the country, and I’m only one of 15% women enrolled in the robotics program. This number has increased over the last few years, so I can’t bring shame to myself, my family, or this school by getting embroiled in a sex scandal with a college therapist.
“Tell me what’s going on, Alice.” He folds his hands over his knee.
I shake my head. “I can’t do this…Roman, Dr. Lee, whatever your name is. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” I’m out of the cushy chair before I can reconsider. If I can barely handle getting a B in my lab class, then I can’t handle this kind of stress.
I rush past his older woman receptionist into the waiting room where two other girls sit staring into their cell phones. Both are about my age, but trendy and beautiful, the kind of girl I’ll never be. Suddenly, I’m jealous that they’ll be getting a full session with Roman. He’ll listen to their problems, help them, while I get nothing.
I wanted to talk this morning. I was ready. I came here to unload my brain, but I sabotaged my chance with the most highly recommended therapist on campus. Now, I see why everyone loves him so much—because he’s HOT AS FUCK. I’m pissed at myself for acting impulsively on Friday night, something I never do.
And this is exactly why—because now I’m in an unwanted situation.
“Miss Verano?” The receptionist calls me back, concern in her voice. “Are you alright, dear?” But I can’t turn back. I have to go stew somewhere.
I sprint across campus, not an easy feat in the early Arizona summer heat. Every breath I take is comprised of oven-hot air, and every footstep glues into the asphalt. Reaching the Student Union Center, I sit on a bench outside to catch my breath and process what just happened.
Okay, so…the guy I hooked up with on Friday turned out to be my therapist on Monday.
No big deal, right? It could happen to anyone.
Ugh, who am I kidding? This would only happen to me.
I pull out my phone to call Jilly, the only person I can talk to. Though I only met her last year when we began the program together, she’s been my partner in crime. But the call goes to voicemail.
“Alice.” Looking up startled, I see Roman—Dr. Lee, I should say—standing there, blocking the sun, like a god of persistence wearing a halo around his head.
“Why did you follow me?” I scoff. “Just leave it alone.”
“Look.” He clamps his hands to his hips to catch his breath. “Just hear what I have to say, as a friend, not a therapist. If you don’t like it, then I’ll leave, and you won’t hear from me ever again. Deal?”
Now that we’re no longer in his office, I feel less claustrophobic. The least I can do is listen without penalty. I look around. It’s still early, there’s hardly anyone on campus—a good thing in case I break into tears.
I sigh and slide down the bench to make space for him.
He sits, legs open, and folds his hands. “Okay, so it’s a weird situation to be in. I get that. But I still want to help you, and if I can’t be the one to help you, then I really want you to call someone from this list.” He hands me a slip of paper with two names jotted down in a rush.
“Why?” I take the slip of paper. “Aren’t you relieved I don’t want anything to do with you? Aren’t you glad I’m not clingy or insisting that we continue to see each other even though we had sex on Friday?”
“Alice, if you were one of those Barbie dolls in my waiting room practically
begging me to sign my autograph on their boobs, then maybe.”
“You mean the gorgeous ones? I’m not sure I should be flattered, Dr. Lee.”
“It’s a compliment. I’m saying you’re not fangirling.” He pauses to look around, searching for the right words. “You came to me because you actually want help. You’d be surprised how many of my clients don’t. I don’t want you thinking I don’t care about you now that we spent the night together, because the truth is, I do care.”
“And it’s nice to know that you’re not an asshole, but we can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “There’s too much on the line for both of us. If the college were to find out what just happened, it would be bad.”
Silence.
There’s just no way to work this situation out. We have to go our separate ways. I hate myself right now for fucking up and going home with him.
He leans back on the bench, stretching his arms out along the ridge. The thought of curling into him and crying my stress out crosses my crazy mind. “Fine. There’s nothing we can do.”
I look at him. He looks at me. In the early morning light, his sexy eyes are two jewels in the middle of his gorgeous face. He’s dead serious. He finally realized the severity of this situation and will probably stand any minute now, say goodbye, and then I’ll never see him again. I don’t know why that hurts so much, but there it is.
“Which was your favorite episode?” he asks, changing gears.
I’m thrown by his shift in topic. I blink. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Doctor Who, Season One, with Christopher Eccleston. Which was your favorite episode?” He side-eyes me.
“Oh.” I scoff a laugh, grateful for the mental break. “What kind of reverse psychology sorcery is this, doctor?”
“The kind that will get you to trust me.” He turns on that charming smile, and my heart expands. So, he’s not going to leave? He’s going to fight me on this, isn’t he? I don’t know if that’s sheer stubbornness, chivalry, or determination on his part, but it’s refreshing.
I can’t help but crack a smile at him.
This man is gorgeous, nice, and sexy. I can see why women line up to see him. But then, he does something that nearly sends me running back to my apartment to the safety of my bed. His hand covers mine. “I’m an excellent listener, Alice. I can help you.”
I shift in my seat, sliding back my hand. I swallow. “Dr. Lee, you have tons of clients waiting for you to demystify them. Why are you insisting? I don’t get it.”
He glances across the lawn. “I told you. You were straightforward. You didn’t come to me because you wanted something other than therapy. You didn’t ask to take a selfie with me.”
I widen my eyes at him. “Do people really do that?”
“Yes.” He rolls his eyes.
“Wow.”
“You haven’t asked for my number, you haven’t told me how hot I am, you haven’t…treated me like I’m a celebrity. You just wanted help, and I don’t know if you know this, but psychologists really just want to help people.”
“So, it’s your Achilles’ Heel,” I say.
“Basically. I hate to say this but you might actually be stuck with me until you let me.” His wide smile slays me.
Ugh. Maybe I can do this. Maybe just one talk won’t hurt and I’ll feel better. “Don’t you have other clients waiting?”
“We can reschedule. It’s not everyday the woman who gave me the best blowjob ever walks into my office the next business day.”
Fire sizzles up my cheeks. “Wow.” I cover my face with my hands. “I hate you so much right now.”
He laughs brazenly loud, a great sound I could listen to over and over again. “I’m sorry, Blondie. I’m just as shocked as you are about all this. Just trying to get us to laugh.” He checks the time on his phone, then looks at me with seriousness in his eyes.
I fidget with my nails.
I’m so torn. I want to push him back into my past where he belongs, but I like this new side of him, this person who feels completely different from the guy I was with on Friday night. Besides, he likes Doctor Who, so how can I avoid him?
“The one where he discovers the surviving Dalek,” I answer his episode question, recalling the way the Doctor handled seeing his last enemy robot after believing it to be dead.
He faces me, crossing one leg over the other. “Why? Let me guess…”
“Because it’s the one where the Doctor—”
“Faces his inner demons?”
I was going to say because he realizes he’s got hate inside of him, but that’s close enough. I like how Dr. Lee tries to guess what I’m thinking. He truly does love figuring people out. “Exactly.” I allow myself the tiniest of laughs.
Does this man have ESP? How did he know what I would say? “The Doctor seemed so frail and real to me in that episode. He suppressed his hate for the race that killed his people, and Rose saw him for who he was. So vulnerable and real, she had to guide him through his rage.”
“I can relate to that.”
I would ask how, but I’m not sure I want to know. I’m not sure I want to know anything more about Roman Lee for fear that I will start to care. The courtyard suddenly gets a little busier, and I’m paranoid someone will see us talking to each other.
“Come with me.” He stands and shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Where are we going?”
“To the lake where it’s shadier. Less crowded.”
I stand and begin walking beside him. He seems taller than me today, or maybe I just feel smaller and less brave than I did on Friday night.
“Call me Roman. Please, Alice. It’ll diffuse this whole thing, make us just two people instead of doctor and patient,” he says, looking straight ahead.
“But see, that’s just it. It’s the reason I wanted to talk to you this morning. I have to call you Dr. Lee. You have to let me.”
“Tell me why, so I can understand. The detachment issues you mentioned?” He tilts his head at me.
“Yes.”
“What do you think that means?”
“I thought you wanted to talk as friends,” I say.
“I do.” He looks at me. “But I psychoanalyze all my friends. It’s a gift.” He grins like the Cheshire Cat.
I blow out a big breath and adjust the backpack on my shoulder. Once I talk to him, I can’t undo it. “Alright, here’s the main reason I came in to see you: I have trouble sticking with any one person.”
“Person?”
“Guy, date, man, person with male sexual organs. I don’t do relationships. If I hook up with anyone, I can’t see him anymore.” Including you, Roman. “I’ve done it a few times now. It can’t be healthy.”
“Is that a problem? If it makes you happy?”
“I’m not sure it makes me happy. It makes me…I don’t know what.”
“Makes you…” He drops into a mini hillside, leading to our campus’s only lake.
I shrug and follow him down the path. “I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out. That’s what I was dying to get off my chest this morning before I discovered that you were my therapist.” I groan.
We’re quiet for a moment, then he finds a place to sit in the sand under a cluster of thin trees. “Tell me more.”
“So…I know cutting things off with guys isn’t conducive to good relationships, but for some reason, I don’t care. I’m numb. That’s what I mean by detachment issues. I detach myself.”
“I noticed that when you ran off.”
“You mean Saturday morning or this morning?”
“Both.”
I blush and look away. Great, now guilt joins the party. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay, really. Tell me something. Are your parents still married?”
“My parents,” I say, thinking about them. “My parents are great people, but they split up two years ago. When it happened, I told myself I was mature enough to understand why they grew apart, but I don’t think I’m over
it. Mom has moved on. She’s remarried, but I see that going to shit soon. My dad works all the time and has a string of girlfriends. Probably better that way.”
He tilts his head at me. “Why’s your mom’s marriage going to shit?”
“I told her a million times that Victor was her rebound after Dad left. She met him on Match.com and totally bought into him being her knight in shining armor. Now that they’re living together with my little brothers being pains in his ass, I think Sir Victor is realizing that Camelot isn’t what he imagined it to be.”
“So, you don’t believe in love anymore.” Is he saying, suggesting, or asking?
I feel stunned by his verbal dart, but it’s not like he’s wrong. Maybe he’s right—maybe I don’t believe love exists anymore. “I’m sure you’re thinking that’s why I’m cold. Why bother having a relationship when love doesn’t last. Is that it? Did I figure myself out?”
“I just wanted to see what your thoughts were.”
“My thoughts are a fucking mess, doctor.”
He chuckles. “So, you don’t want to use my first name because you’re afraid you’ll have feelings for me after what we did on Friday night? Something like that?”
“What? No.” Maybe. It’s a shock when someone nails a vague, confusing idea for you. “What happened is in the past. You’re Dr. Lee now. We’re not friends anymore. We never were.”
Ouch. I didn’t mince words there, did I? So cringey.
“Hmm…I see.”
“Sorry about that.” But it’s true. I didn’t bother to get to know him at all before we did our unspeakables.
“Don’t be. You tell it like it is.” He’s quiet for a bit, and the wheels in my head spin a mile a second. Did I just offend him? What’s the hell is wrong with me? If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to him right now, would I?
I’d be busy kissing him, exploring his mouth, tracing outlines on his body. I’d be begging for an encore of the other night, moving into Stage 2 of our relationship, asking him to fuck me, and marveling at our friendship with benefits.