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“
My god, how many times did y’all have sex?”
My cheeks burn and I shrug.
Rebecca raises an eyebrow at me. “You don’t know.” When I remain silent, she gasps. “Oh, my god. You lost track of how many orgasms, didn’t you? I guess that makes sense since you stayed all weekend.”
“The first time was yesterday,” I correct, causing her eyes to widen. I should probably tell her that I do indeed know the magical number, but it would dampen what she’s conjured.
“So, y’all are officially dating now, right? You’re not going to correct me if I call him your boyfriend?”
“He’s my boyfriend,” I confirm. It sounds so weird and comforting at the same time.
“You seem happy. You know, the most you can be happy with all the shit you’re going through.”
“Geez, thanks,” I mumble.
“C’mon, you know what I mean. You had a rough morning and yet you were giving me a goofy smile a second ago. That didn’t happen before.”
“I’m hoping it’ll all work out.” Just the thought of things ending with Trace causes my heartbeat to accelerate.
“Brittany, why are you already worrying about it? I mean, is it more than your normal worry?”
“Because he gets it, truly gets it.” I wait for it to click.
“Oh. So, he deals with it, too?” I nod. “Maybe it’ll be more helpful than harmful.”
“Maybe,” I agree. I sigh, wishing to talk about something else. “Don’t you have something juicy to share with me?”
Rebecca laughs. “Ha, I wish. Hey,” she suddenly perks up, “we need to discuss spring break plans.” I groan. “No, you aren’t backing out on me. It’s tradition, Brittany! We’ve gone somewhere every year.”
“I know, but I don’t know if I can do it this year. I don’t want to think about it yet.” Every year, we have gone somewhere, even if it’s only an hour away for spring break. Rebecca started talking about it around Christmas, but I’ve been in no mood to think about traveling. It’s stressful as it is. Add anxiety to the mix and it’s just not fun.
“Think about it, okay?”
I nod. “I will.”
We enjoy the rest of our lunch and then I reluctantly head to the counselors’ office. I’m hoping I won’t see Trace. If our relationship is supposed to be all off campus, then I don’t want to worry about how I’m supposed to act around him. Squeezing my wrist isn’t bringing me any strength today. I dig my nails into my skin, hoping the bite of pain will distract me and do the trick.
“Brittany?”
I lift my head to see the elderly lady smiling.
“Follow me.”
I follow Mrs. Rumley to her office, which is across from Trace’s. I sit in the uncomfortable chair and wait for her to sit in hers.
“I would like to sincerely apologize for being late last week,” she begins.
“It’s okay.” I glance around at her dying plants, yet perfectly ordered desk. How can someone be so orderly, yet keep dead plants in their office?
“So, what brings you in today?”
I bring my eyes back to hers. “Um. Well.” My mind blanks. “I don’t know where to start.”
She gives me a gentle smile. “That’s okay. Maybe start by telling me some general things about yourself that might pertain to the issue.”
“Right. I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and clinical depression when I was in high school. I take some medications for it. My psychiatrist recently upped my dosage and prescribed sleeping pills to help me sleep. They helped at first, but the last two nights, I haven’t been able to sleep much still. I’m just having a hard time lately.”
