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This is our fourth session together, and she’s definitely a tough egg to crack, but I always get there in the end. I lean forwards onto my thighs. “Can I tell you how I feel?”
She nods shyly and I smile at her, excited that I might be getting somewhere. “I’m a little annoyed because it’s raining right now, and I know I have to get the tube home later and, in these shoes, that means my feet will be wet, so that’s why I feel annoyed.”
A small smile appears on her face, which is progress from her scowls and eye rolls, so I’ll take it. She shuffles in her seat, as if she’s preparing to say something.
“I feel confused.”Yes, I got her.
“Tell me more.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know why I have to come here and talk to you; I know that my dad died, and my mum is struggling, but I’m fine. She’s the one who needs help. She’s been such a bitch since he died, so I’m confused why isn’t she here?”
Hmm she definitely isn’t fine, but I’ll bite.
“Ella, your mother is seeing another therapist in the building. I assure you that her behaviour is not your fault and I’m sorry you feel as though she isn’t treating you fairly. Maybe I can arrange a joint session so we can all talk together?”
Ella looks down at her hands and fiddles with her cuticles. “Okay,” she says quietly.
“Okay. I will talk to her therapist, and we will set something up. Does that sound good?”
She shrugs again.Ah, we’re back to that.
“Great. I’ll see you next week for your usual session. Take care Ella.” She picks up her school bag and walks out of the door as I deflate further into my chair.
I love my job, but sometimes,just sometimes, I have days that are difficult. But I remember that it’s worth it because that little girl in my office a second ago needs me, and if I can help, then that’s what I’ll do.
As I stand, waiting for my tube, my feet are as wet as I expected they’d be and I’m officially grumpy, which seems to be a default mood for me lately. I hear the tellingwhooshof the tube just before it arrives. As I step through the doors, I decide to stand near the exit, to avoid the rush hour madness.
I glance to my left, and I catch sight of a familiar face. Grayson. He is sitting, scowling at his phone.Shit.He has a car. Why is he on the tube? I only saw him yesterday. Do I need to see him again right now? Why does the universe hate me?
As though he heard me thinking about him, or more likely, felt me staring at him, his gaze lifts and connects with mine. The way his face lights up when he smiles in my direction is pure porn and should be illegal. He isn’t allowed to be so stupidly handsome when I look and feel like a soggy wet dog.
His grin grows wider as he stands to make his way towards me, all swagger and big dick energy that’s blazing my way.Holy shit, I need to chill.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he says in his deep, raspy voice that makes me want to throw myself at him.
“Don’t you have a car?” I say, hoping and praying that I don’t sound as breathless as I feel.
The tube jolts us to a stop, and I stumble towards him, my palms connecting with his chest. His very hard, very muscly chest.Oh great, I’m actually throwing myself at him and it’s doing nothing to stop the dampness of my underwear, that has nothing to do with the rainy London weather.
“Oh shit,” I curse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to manhandle you there.” I right myself and grip onto the pole I should’ve been holding onto in the first place.
When he leans towards me, my whole body stiffens. “You can manhandle me anytime.” His hot breath brushes against the skin behind my ear and everything clenches in memory of the last time I felt him against my skin. My body desperately wants to arch towards him and give in to every carnal desire racing through my mind, but I somehow manage to stop myself.
I suddenly feel awkward as he moves away from me. His steely eyes assess me, probably waiting for my quip back like I usually do, but the truth is, I’m a little flustered and I don’t trust myself not to fall onto his dick again with the way he’s licking his lips.
“I have wet shoes,” I blurt out with the least amount of finesse.Shit, good one, Nora.
His eyes crinkle at the sides, his hand moving up to cover his mouth, which is already threatening a smirk. “Wet shoes?”
I nod frantically like I’m trying to disconnect my head from my shoulders. “Wet shoes,” I repeat, pointing down because apparently, I like to embarrass myself.
Grayson chuckles, showing me his devastating, cheeky grin that sends all the butterflies fluttering all around the world, or maybe that’s just in my chest. “When we get to your house, I can dry them for you if you want?”
My lips curve into a small smile, not really taking in what he said.
Wait, did he say get back to my house?
My eyes widen. “My house?” I squeak.
