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22
Elizabeth
“Just tell me you want me, beautiful. That’s all you need to do.” His whispered plea brushes my ear as he pulls my body flush with his, shooting electricity through every single one of my nerve-endings.
I do want him. So badly. My body aches for his touch. I move my mouth to tell him, but nothing comes out.
He nibbles at my ear before making a trail of light, breathy kisses down and then up my neck, his hardness pressing into my center. “Can you feel how badly I want you? Don’t you want me, Lizzy?” He runs his hand up my inner thigh, savoring every inch. “Don’t you want me to touch you?” His hand settles between my legs, teasing my throbbing entrance. “Don’t you want to feel me?”
Yes, I do. All these things and more. I try again to tell him but I still can’t speak.
“You have to tell me, beautiful.” His voice is almost begging as his cloudy gray eyes meet mine, the hopelessness in them causing my chest to tighten.
He begins to release me, and sheer panic courses through me.
I’m instantly colder from the loss of his touch. My desperation for him to stay grows along with the distance between us. My mouth still can’t make a sound or form any words.
I try to reach for him, but there’s a heaviness keeping me from moving. No matter how hard I struggle, I can’t break free from whatever is holding me back.
Then he disappears—leaving me cold, alone, and scared.
“What do you think the dream means?” Dr. Gentry’s question earns her an immature eye roll from me as I let out an exasperated sigh.
I’m already regretting telling her about the damn dream. It was stupid of me to think she’d be able to offer me some insight. I’m getting her normal bullshit—questions in lieu of answers.
“I don’t know.” I wave my hands before dramatically dropping them back in my lap. “I suppose the obvious answer would be I desire him, sexually.”
A fire burns through my chest as the shame from admitting that out loud sinks in. My eyes move to focus on the cage by the window, watching the white birds play, their constant chirping distracting me from the pain.
“I don’t think you need a dream to tell you that, Lizzy,” Dr. Gentry replies, a hint of humor in her tone. “And there’s nothing wrong with being attracted to someone. What I want you to focus on now are the other aspects of the dream.” She shifts in her chair as my gaze returns to her, her face full of expectation.
“What do you mean?”
“You said you couldn’t speak or move.” She looks down, checking her notes. “You said it felt like something was holding you back. What do you think was holding you back? What do you think that means?” She places her notepad in her lap, crossing her arms so she can rest her chin on her hand.
“I don’t know.” I plant my head in my hands, shaking it in frustration before lifting it again. “If I knew, I probably wouldn’t be here talking to you about it.”
She stares at me for a moment, unfazed by my rudeness. “When was the last time you saw Brenden?”
“A week and a half ago,” I answer truthfully, even though I’m dreading having to talk about what happened.
“And have you spoken to him since?”
“Not really.” I avert my eyes to my hand, picking at my nail polish.
I’ve been avoiding him since the night of his birthday, embarrassed and ashamed about my behavior. It was stupid for me to leave the way I did. Anger coursed through my veins as I watched him with that random woman. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face.
My reaction to him dancing with another woman wasn’t normal. I considered what it all meant during my Uber ride home, telling myself I’d merely been upset because he’s better than hooking up with some random woman at a bar.
It was a lie though.
I couldn’t fool anyone, not even myself. I was jealous, and maybe even hurt, watching Brenden with that woman. The intensity behind those feelings scared the hell out of me. And that’s why I bolted.
“I thought the two of you spoke daily. Has something changed? Did something happen?” she asks, leaning forward.
I was anticipating this line of questioning, though it hasn’t made me any more prepared to answer. My gaze wanders around the small room as I recount the events of that night and after.
Brenden called me before I even made it home that night, but I sent it to voicemail. He’s tried reaching out every night at our regular time since. They’ve all gone unanswered. I’m an asshole and a coward. He only danced with that woman because of what I said about our friendship. It shouldn’t be my concern who he does or doesn’t dance with. I’m the one who keeps telling him there will never be anything else between us.
