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Most of all, I’m going to attempt the impossible.
It’s not healthy to jump from one man to another, but I’m going to try. Despite how fast I’ve fallen for Zeb, I resolve to take things slow and enjoy getting to know him. It’s too easy to jump into bed, and rush physical intimacy, without laying down a proper foundation.
I reach for my phone, then remember it’s in Mitzy’s possession. A wave of anxiety washes over me. Normally, I check my phone a half dozen times or more before my feet hit the floor. It’s become an automatic habit to check texts, email, social media, and more, before getting out of bed. Without my phone to distract me, and jumpstart my morning with a dopamine surge, I’m alone with my worry.
Take another breath.
Focus on the present.
It’s strange being without my phone; something essential is missing, but it’s necessary. Mitzy’s going to use it to deal with Scott.
Honestly, it’s best I don’t have the phone. I can only imagine the string of nasty texts from Scott, threats against me, threats against my friends. Just thinking about it gives me that queasy, shaky feeling.
Did Barbi ever respond to our texts?
I make a mental note to ask Carmen and Rosalie when I see them. Putting my anxiety aside for a moment, I take advantage of Zeb sleeping to use the bathroom. Unlike the rest of my temporary quarters, which is functional to a fault, whoever designed the bathroom knows exactly how to pamper its guests.
The separate shower and tub are a nice addition. I’m not one to soak in a tub, but I love a roomy shower. There’s something about letting the steam build and how it wraps around me in a comforting fog of warmth. I’m also that chick who sits down in a shower to enjoy the steam. I won’t sit in a bath, but I’ll sit in the shower until the water runs cold.
It’s a quirk, don’t judge.
I do that now, and while I sit there, I let the anxiety building within me swirl down the drain. From now, until things are over with Scott, I’m not going to think about him, his threats, or any of the nastiness surrounding him.
And that lasts all of ten seconds.
UC Davis is a wash. There’s a lesson there.
I cheated the system and used Scott to secure my place. Now, I pay the price with it being ripped away.
Which leaves me where?
My entire life, I’ve wanted to be a veterinarian. Generally considered more competitive than medical school, I have the grades, recommendations, and scores to be a competitive applicant. But I lack the confidence to believe in myself. Meaning, I jumped at an opportunity, exploited what Scott could do for me, and never looked back. There is no backup plan because I didn’t apply anywhere else. I didn’t need to when my spot was secure.
But that doesn’t mean I won’t get into another program. Like I said, I’m a competitive applicant. I can apply again. I’ll have to get another faculty recommendation to replace Scott’s, and I may not get into the school of my choice. I’ll have to wait a year to apply, but I can accept that as my punishment for working around the system.
If I thought Davis was far from my friends, the other options are even farther away. I might wind up in Idaho, or Arkansas, or somewhere on the east coast.
I think back to the words of encouragement Paul gave me what seems like forever ago. He made some great points.
If I want this, I have to put fear aside and go for it. Carmen, Barbi, and now Rosie are my anchor. That sounds like they’ll pull me under. I need a better analogy.
They’re my beacon. The light guiding me home.
Yeah, I like that analogy much better.
I’ll make new friends, other lights in the darkness, but keep the old. My friends will always guide me home.
I can’t help it, but that silly Girl Scout song plays through my head. Turns out, it’s not so silly after all, and holds some sage advice.
Finally, it’s time to get on with my day. I dry off and wrap myself in the fluffy white robe provided for guests and pad back out to the main room.
“Good morning, sunshine. I thought I lost you to the luxuries of the bath.” Zeb sits in bed with two pillows propped behind him.
He turns off his phone and sets it to the side. The entirety of his attention turns on me and those butterflies react with a tumultuous surge of frenetic energy.
“Shower.” I tug at the belt keeping the robe closed and try not to let my mouth gape.
Zeb climbs out of bed and yanks off his T-shirt, revealing rippling muscles across broad shoulders and rock-hard washboard abs. My heart gives a little flutter of appreciation with how gorgeous he looks with his hair still tousled from sleep and that heart-stopping smile of his.
