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“He’s a hockey player. I hate hockey.”
“What? Doesn’t your whole family play hockey?”
I shrug. “Yeah, and because of that damn sport, I was never enough.”
Her face is still scrunched up. “That’s a dumb reason not to like someone.”
Annoyed, I glare. “I never said I didn’t like him, I do. It’s just… I don’t want that distraction.”
Whistling, she shakes her head. “Jace would be the best distraction, I tell you what.”
Rolling my eyes, I decide I’m getting nowhere with this girl. She doesn’t see him the way I do. She sees him as some kind of idol, untouchable and all that jazz. I’ve been with him and, yeah, he’s great and I want more, but something is holding me back.
Something that haunts me daily.
Which reminds me, I need to tak
e my meds.
Going to my nightstand, I reach for the bottles that hold my pills and open them like I have been doing for the last three years. As each pill hits my palm, they are a reminder of what I did when I was a young girl of fifteen. A pitiful, attention-seeking girl who loved a boy who didn’t love her. I want to say I don’t need the little pills, but I know I do. I don’t have the urge much, but I know that at any moment, it could happen again.
At least, that’s what my therapist says.
I can feel Mekena watching me. She does that a lot, and I know she wants to know what I take. Yet, she hasn’t asked. I have my excuse all prepared, just waiting for her to ask. I’m nowhere near ready to share my demons with her, and to be honest, I doubt she could handle it.
“So,” she starts and I close my eyes as I wash down the pills with some water.
Here we go.
“We’re friends, right?”
Looking over at her, I hold my towel tightly to me as I set my water bottle back down. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Okay, I know you are frustrated about the whole Jace thing. I’m sorry. With him, I see a totally hot guy I wish would look at me even a little like he looked at you last night. That doesn’t help you and I know that, but I think you should do what makes you happy. If fooling around with Jace Sinclair does that, then who cares about all the details? If being with him, like, hard-core makes you happy? Do it. Just do what makes you happy.”
Okay. Not what I thought she was going to say, but I appreciate her advice.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I know it’s more than you let on, but I hope I helped a bit.”
I nod. “It is and you have. It’s just I don’t want to make mistakes I’ve made in the past.”
“I get that.” She nods her head toward my medicine. “Is that why you take those?”
I can only blink. “What?”
“I looked up the meds because I’m a worrywart, I guess. And I’m thinking that the mistakes you made have something to do with the fact you take antidepressants and antianxiety medication.”
I can still only blink at her. “You looked up my meds?”
“Yeah, I had to make sure you didn’t have AIDS or something that might be contagious. I mean, I’m living with you. I can’t get sick; I have things to do.”
That makes me laugh as I shake my head. She’s so practical and I can’t be mad. She didn’t do it to be nosy. She was actually worried; I can see it on her face. But soon it is replaced with panic as she holds her hands up.
“I’m sorry I invaded your privacy—”
“It’s fine,” I say, waving her off. “No big deal.”
