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I settle my hands on my knees to stop the shaking and take a breath. Her office is nothing but white walls and empty bookshelves. I squirm in my seat, unease filling my bloodlines.
“Sorry,” she says. “The seats aren’t very comfortable.” She waves a hand around the room. “As you can tell, I’m waiting on more funding to get my office up to scratch.”
“I’m sure the parents of a few kids here could throw you some loose change,” I remark, my gaze catching the files on the desk in front of her.
Connor Ledger. Beneath that: Ava Diaz.
“Sure,” she says, swiping both files together and placing them roughly in a draw. “But the parents here aren’t as interested in their kids’ mental health so much as their grades, or in some cases their triple-double stats.”
My eyes lift to hers.
She smirks. “So why are you here?”
I shrug. “My stats suck, and I guess my team captain wants to figure out why the hell I’m at this school.”
“Do you ever wonder why you’re here, Connor?”
Every damn minute of every day. “Nope. I know why I’m here.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“Because some people think I’m good enough.”
“And you don’t?”
Another shrug.
Her sigh echoes off the empty walls. “Let’s start from the beginning,” she says, grabbing a pen from a cup in the shape of a unicorn. “Tell me about your home life.”
Here we go…
* * *
The time with Miss Turner did nothing for my nerves. If anything, it just made things worse. By the time I finally make it out of the damn building, my heart is racing, sinking, and my mind? My mind is questioning what all she had to say about me in her too-messy-to-make-out notes that went on for five goddamn pages. I’m almost positive it’ll be the same generic diagnosis of everyone else before her.
Connor Ledger has a good head on him, but he lacks self-confidence due to his fear of abandonment.
At the end, she asked if I wanted to schedule another appointment. I imagined getting out of my chair and throwing it out the window, I was that exasperated. Instead, I politely declined, told her I’d do “better.” I don’t even know what I meant by “better,” but it sure as shit seemed to suffice.
In the student parking lot, my car is the only one left. By now, every single person knows who it belongs to, so there’s no shame left, and even if there was, I have absolutely zero fucks left to give.
I make it halfway to my car before I hear a “Hey!” from somewhere behind me. I assume it’s Miss Turner, but it’s not.
It’s Ava.
She’s standing a few feet away, her hands gripping the straps of her bag. I stop in my tracks as I watch her approach. And I mean watch in every sense because as much as she might despise me, goddamn, there’s still an attraction to her I can’t seem to shake, and maybe…
Maybe Rhys is onto something. Because as hard as I’ve tried to deny it, what Ava said affected me in ways I don’t truly understand.
“Is that your car?” she asks, looking over my shoulder.
So those fucks that had disappeared? They’re back, and they’re plentiful, and they’re causing the heat forming in my face.
“Yes,” I answer, but it comes out a whisper. Jesus. I clear my throat, try again. “Yeah, it’s mine.”
“Cool…”
Then I pull out the last remaining semblance of confidence I have left. “Do you… I mean, do you need a ride somewhere?”
