The Girlfriend Game by Sierra Hill
Seven
Zeke
I don’t know what happened to me back there or why I reacted the way I did, but it felt like a cork had been wedged loose, letting out all the steam and fizz and I just popped.
At least I didn’t black out.
The adrenaline rush still courses through my blood, my body amped and prickly from whatever the fuck just set me off. Whatever it was, it triggered my fight or flight response, and I was ready to fight. I’m surprised I held back that much. The man was so out of line in the way he treated Kendall, it sent me over the edge.
I head down the street toward Kendall’s office, where we’re scheduled to meet in a matter of minutes, and I start the box breathing exercises she’d given me as a tool to employ when I’m stressed or feel out of control.
Something happened to me in there. I felt like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, turning into someone I don’t recognize. An emotion I can’t quite name came over me in lightning-fast speed when I looked up and noticed Kendall in line waiting to buy her coffee. I felt an immediate tug at my heart. It was weird and not anything I’d ever experienced before.
But then, just as I was about to stand and walk over to her, I saw that guy come out of nowhere, pummel into her, and basically assault her physically and verbally. And I lost it.
Just like my mom.
The realization careens into my head and I throw out my palm against the brick of the building to keep myself upright, blinking away the wet moisture clogging my eyelids that clouds my vision. But just as soon as the thought appears, it dissipates and I open the building door and enter the lobby, calling the elevator with the up arrow button.
The moment the elevator doors close shut, I feel like I can breathe again and drop my head back against the mirrored wall. I continue my box breathing. Inhaling on the count of four. Holding for four. Exhaling for four counts. This technique is meant to bring conscious awareness back to your mind, filling you with the peace of the moment and awareness of your brain and body connection.
I finally open my eyes and stare forward at my reflection in the mirror, but I don’t even recognize myself.
My behavior frustrates the hell out pf me. I don’t want to be this guy. The one who snaps when provoked. It’s maddening because I thought I’d been making steady improvements recently. Kendall has given me new perspective on what I’ve ignored for so long.
As far back as I can remember, I’ve pushed down emotions that were too big for me to handle. Since childhood, actually. All of those reactions and sentiments bottled up with a tight lid.
I’d admitted to Kendall that the panic attack out on the court wasn’t the first I’d experienced; it was just the worst. Through our conversations, we’ve isolated other situations where the screws had been loosed, so to speak. But because I’d done such a good job ignoring the issues, the pressure continued to build, and build, and build until there was no other outlet to manage it. My response was to collapse and black out.
Physically, I’m fine. In the best shape of my professional career with physical endurance for miles. It’s my mental health and fitness that’s weak and on its last leg, requiring regular mental exercise to get it back into shape. Kendall suggested that I begin keeping a journal.
“No way. I’m not a writer.” I balked at the time, shaking my head, asserting my distaste.
“You don’t have to be. It’s just another outlet and you’re the only one who will see it. But I may ask from time to time if you uncover anything of interest. Sometimes when we write, the past will inevitably come to the surface. We can only heal ourselves when he let go of the trauma from the past.”
She’d smiled at me then, and I was blown away by her beauty. Like a veil was lifted and suddenly I saw all of her.
Of course, I noticed how gorgeous she is the first time we met. But as we’ve continued to meet and talk more openly, I’ve seen her with brand new eyes.
As I step into Kendall’s waiting room, her receptionist, Tanya, smiles at me and informs me Kendall will be with me shortly. I nod, taking a seat and extracting the spiral-bound pad, the pen tucked inside the pages, and begin noting the words that come to mind stemming from the incident at the coffee shop.
Beautiful.
That’s the first thing that grabbed my attention when I noticed Kendall in line. When I initially looked up from my phone, where I’d been reading my latest message from The Other Sister, my gaze caught on the gorgeous woman waiting her turn. She was turned away with her back toward me, leaving just the view from behind. And let me tell you, it would be hard not to notice how perfectly the material of her skirt sculpted tightly over her ass, accentuating the firm curves, followed by her perfectly toned legs. I couldn’t help but admire her grace and poise.
As my eyes followed up the length of her back, all I thought was how much I wanted to thread my fingers through the golden-copper hair cascading over her shoulder blades in smooth, long waves. Shift the waterfall hair out of the way to skim her neck with my lips. Taste the skin, feel the goosebumps that pepper down her arms. Tweak the nipple that I know will be poking through her blouse.
Shit, I’m getting hard now thinking about it.
Then I’d tug her head back to position my mouth over hers and…
“Dr. Rush is ready for you now, Mr. Forester.”
My body jerks and the pen drops from my fingers to the floor as Tanya interrupts my very inappropriate fantasy about my psychologist.
One glance down at my crotch makes me realize the mistake I just made. I bend over and pick up the pen, grabbing the copy of her book from the coffee table to place it front of my erection as I stand and start toward her door. I nod with a smile as I pass Tanya’s desk and open the door.
Swallowing hard, my face flushes with the heat the minute I catch a whiff of her sultry scent that lingers in her office, doing little to alleviate the pressure of my straining cock behind my pants’ zipper. My brain short-circuits. It’s not easy to act normal when your fantasies collide with the real thing. With a woman you know you can’t have.
I close the door behind me and quietly walk toward the chair I normally sit down at across from her. Kendall lifts her head from her laptop with a brief and tight smile. I try to return the sentiment, but my stomach tightens because it feels like I’m in the principal’s office about to get chewed out.
“Give me a moment, Zeke. I’m just finishing up some notes.”
I clear my throat, setting the book aside at the table next to me and wave my notepad in the air. “I made some too.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
I continue to watch her surreptitiously from underneath my hooded gaze. Logically, I know I can’t think of Kendall that way.
Yes, she’s a sexy woman. And honestly, if she wasn’t my doctor and I’d met her at a bar or on the dating app, I’d immediately ask her out. I mean, I don’t know anything about her personally, or even whether she’s married or in a relationship. Our conversations are strictly on my life and issues, and she shares nothing about hers with me.
Which only increases my curiosity and does little to squelch my growing interest in Kendall, but it doesn’t matter. I could put on the charm til I’m blue in the face and nothing would come from it. There’s no pursuing anything personal outside these walls with Kendall due to the circumstances.
The minute she stands and moves from behind the laptop and her desk, my attention is drawn to her breasts. I can’t help it because she still wears the same coffee-stained pink blouse that asshole ruined for her and there’s a damp spot covering her left breast.
The wet material clings to the luscious swell of her breast, the lacy bra from underneath visible to any man’s gaze. And that’s not the worst of it. Her nipple puckers seductively as if calling out for me to get down on my knees and suck at it with fervor.
My mouth dries up like a sponge in the hot sun and I forcibly pull my attention back to her face where she frowns.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Kendall notices the direction of my gaze and pulls at the blouse uncomfortably before flipping up her notepad to cover it from view. “Under normal circumstances I’d have a change of clothes, but everything happens to be at the dry cleaner.” She waves a hand, gesturing toward a small closet behind her desk. “And as you already know what happened, I’m a mess and didn’t have time to run home. Tanya’s heading there now before my next client. I’m sorry.”
I’m shocked and mortified that Kendall is the one who’s apologetic. It makes me feel like a horny pervert for staring at her and noticing the delicious peaks of her nipples. But damn, they are too hard not to notice.
I clear my throat. “Seriously, you have nothing to apologize for. It was that asshole’s fault for what happened to you in there.”
She nods, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. “Yes, and in light of that, you’ll understand why I’d like to discuss the reaction you had at Beans and Brew today. Would you care to enlighten me on what happened from your perspective when you jumped in?”
A million thoughts and various responses flash through my head, but I blurt out the first one. “It was instinct.”
“Hmm,” she hums, that professional tone that bleeds both censure and curiosity circling her words. “What were you feeling that had your instinct on high alert?”
I shrug. “I guess I was angry that the guy would blame it on you when he was the one who instigated it. So my instinct was to protect you.”
“Okay, let’s talk more about that. Anger is a very relevant emotion, Zeke. But most people don’t go from zero to sixty like that just on instinct. Unless”—she taps her full lips with the end of her pen—“your psyche triggered the emotional response. Can we talk about that?”
Grumbling, I look down at my lap, avoiding her assessing gaze. “I suppose. That’s why I’m here.”
She chuckles softly and continues. “Very true. And I do see progress being made. In fact, I’m rather glad I was there to witness what happened at the shop so I understand fundamentally where we’re starting from. Would you agree that you allowed your emotions to guide your actions?”
I nod reluctantly. “Yeah, that much is obvious. I kind of snapped. But that’s not my normal MO when I’m out in the real world.”
“You mean, when you’re not playing basketball.”
“Right.” I point a finger toward her. “On the court, I use that aggression to control the ball. To gain an advantage. To beat my opponent.”
I watch her suck her bottom lip in as she seems to think this over. The glide of that lip as it disappears has my dick very confused. Very, very confused.
“Okay. Are you able to describe what in particular about that man’s behavior left you feeling that you couldn’t control the situation or your rage? Was it his tone? His hostility toward me? Or something else altogether?”
The wheels spin around and around in my head, the propelling noise getting louder in my ears until I can barely hear anything except the whir. Like the hum of an airplane engine. My vision blurs, my eyes stinging with tears.
I swipe at them with the back of my hand, noticing that it trembles with fear.
The man isn’t even here to make it happen. Even after all this time, I’m still that scared ten-year-old kid, pissing his bed out of fear that he would inevitably do something wrong. Maybe today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. There weren’t any rules around this.
The outcome was whatever I did, I’d make him mad.
I inhale a shaky breath and look Kendall straight in the eye, seeing the truth for the first time in my life. I consider lying and I can’t. Kendall notices too much and will see right through my lie. Straightening my shoulders, the memory of that moment dislodges from my mind, and I let it slip from my mouth.
“It was the words…what he said to you.”
Kendall seems confused, her eyebrows pinching in slightly, but quickly covers it up. “What who said? What words?”
“The jackhole in the shop said, ‘Look what you made me do.’”