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“I volunteer. A lot,” she continued. “Mainly wherever my friends need me, which is usually their school or other spots in the district. My job is fortunately super flexible. I also spend a ton of time at the local animal shelter. Anyway,” she said. “I don’t like sitting still.”
I scanned the gym, noting the two folding tables covered with green tablecloths and piled with snacks, drinks, and little gift bags. Two women were tending to it that I assumed were her friends. I didn’t spot many other volunteers. Something tugged at the center of my chest as I turned back to her.
“You did all of this for your friends?”
She nodded, a silent look like of course flashing in her eyes. “It’s a bonus for the guardians too,” she said. “Gives them a safe space to drop off their children for a few hours on a Friday night.”
“You weren’t kidding,” I said. “About not having a ton of free time.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m annoyingly honest,” she said, something like sadness flashing over her features for an instant before she smoothed it away.
I stepped closer to her, enough that I could reach down and tip her chin up where she’d dropped her eyes, urging her to look up at me.
“I don’t find it annoying,” I said, making sure she knew it. “And I’m not going anywhere.” Sure, I could’ve bolted at whatever unorthodox session this was and headed for a night at Lucid with my friends, but this was the only place I had an interest in being. “So, tell me how this first session works. How does this play into anger management?”
Her answering smile was worth whatever she was about to ask me to do.
“Like I mentioned at the coffee shop, I need to shadow you in a variety of environments,” she explained. “Your own normal routines and then, clearly, places you’d likely never be.” She motioned to the school dance happening in the gym. “It’s how I’ll be able to find your triggers.”
Fuck, wasn’t talking clinically about me supposed to turn me off? Then why the hell was I hanging on every damn word that left her luscious lips?
Get a grip, man.
“I know my triggers,” I said, my voice low. Something like shame coated me, making me feel uncomfortable in my own damn skin.
“You might know some of them,” she said, sympathy in her blue eyes. “But more often than not, I help people find what’s lying buried that is the source of the problem. Finding it will help us learn how to navigate it.”
I glanced down at her skeptically, but folded my arms over my chest and shrugged. “Okay,” I said. “What do you need me to do?”
“How do you feel about public speaking?”
“I’m fine with it,” I said. “I’ve never had an outburst while in a board meeting.”
“Noted,” she said, nodding. “Still, would you mind running a game for me?” she asked. “Nora said she needed the help. She has everything set up over there,” she said, pointing to a pile of ropes and a basket of yellow bandanas. “I just need you to get on the mic and help explain the game.”
She quickly went over the game rules, which basically was to divide the kids into groups, blindfold them, and give each group a rope. The goal was for the teams to communicate to each other to create a perfect shape, whichever they agreed upon.
“I can do that,” I said once she was done explaining.
“Awesome.” she said, beaming. “Let’s head over there.” She squeezed my forearm as she brushed past me, her steps as bubbly as her tone. It was infectious as I followed her into the gym, the anticipation building in me as if I were about to hit a private, invite-only event—not an assignment constructed to test my anger trigger. Did she really think being around a bunch of kids would set me off?
I guess, it might for some people. It was insanely loud in the gym, with everyone trying to be heard over the other person. But nothing about this situation bothered me. She didn’t have a clue about me, and maybe I wasn’t her typical client, but if this was how she needed to learn, then I’d do it. I’d do whatever it took to make the league commissioner happy. I couldn’t lose my team. I’d worked way too hard for the position as owner, and it was by far my favorite job out of the many I held daily.
She introduced me to her friends—who were grilling me like I was a date instead of a client—before handing me the mic and the supplies, and we all got to work.
By the time the game was done, my head was buzzing with how many voices had spoken at once, but the kids did surprisingly well. It was a great team exercise, and I half-wondered if I should make my team do it. They’d been butting heads more often than not recently, and it was a real pain in the ass. These seventh graders seemed to have more composure than the twenty-six active players I had on the Hurricanes.
