“Right, so he ordered me. I didn’t have sex with him, yet.”
“Yet?”
I nod. “He wants me again. I’ll end up having sex with him this weekend. It’s what he wants.”
Sean holds me closer. “What do you want?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want, I don’t—“
“Tell me. Do you want him? Would you choose to be with him? He’s a good man. He’s everything I’m not. He’d be good to you, Avery.”
I smile at him. “I don’t want Henry. I want you. The thing is, I can’t get all of you. There’s a piece you won’t give, something you won’t share. Without that, I don’t see how we can be anything to each other.” I thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and twirl a lock of his hair.
Sean smiles, but it’s brief. He closes his eyes and just breathes for a moment. “You’re the only other girl at Black’s that will do anything?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then I’m ordering you this weekend. We can try it, maybe.”
“Are you sure you’re not just trying to keep me away from Henry?”
He grins. “That’s an added bonus.”
CHAPTER 6
The next morning I’m sitting in the center of the classroom in Psych. I’m in a chair and another student, one I don’t really know, is sitting across from me with a pen and paper in her lap. Our instructions are to practice the practical application of the techniques we learned during the semester.
I slouch back in my chair. Butterflies swirl in my stomach. I hate being in front of everyone. The other fifty or so students lean forward and get ready to watch. We’ll be practicing basic counseling responses for the next three days. Case one, Avery Stanz. Good thing no one knows how screwed up I really am. I’m wondering if this girl will be able to pull down my walls and get at what makes me tick. I doubt it. I fold my arms across my chest. I’m the poster child for uncooperative participant.
The professor, Dr. Pratz, is standing in front of us. He’s a tall slender man who’s nearly bald save some white hair around his temples. He’s wearing a Polo shirt and a pair of kakis. The soles of his shoes are worn through and the man is wearing different colored socks. Sometimes I wonder if he does stuff like that to see if we notice, because those of us going into this field need to notice and figure out what it means.
Dr. Pratz is addressing the class, explaining the order of the practicum. “Avery and Emma will have five minutes to talk. Emma’s job is to guide the conversation to help Avery recognize her feelings on whatever subjects come up. During this exercise if either of you uncover a landmine, then the conversation will end. The purpose of this assignment is to help your client identify their emotions. That’s it.” He turns to us. “You have five minutes. Go!” He presses a button on the side of his watch and sits down on an empty seat in the front row.
Emma is nervous. She has light brown hair that she tucked behind her ears. She has on jeans and a pink sweater with pearl earrings. I don’t think we’d get along by the looks of her. Emma looks like someone who has an easy life. I can see it in her eyes.
Emma’s sitting at the edge of her chair. She shifts in the seat and looks up at me, flashing an anxious smile. “So, Avery, tell me how you’re doing today.”
“I’m fine.”
“Avery,” Dr. Pratz interrupts, scolding me, “you need to be at least semi-cooperative for this assignment, Miss Stanz. A real patient would be more cooperative.”
“Not a teenager,” I counter.
“You’re not a teenager. Speak in full sentences please. And yes, I will interrupt if either of you needs it.” He presses the button on his watch again. “Resume.”
I straighten in my chair a little. “I’m doing okay today.”
Emma looks at Dr. Pratz, but he doesn’t interject again. “It sounds like you’re a little tense. Is something bothering you?”
I shake my head and pick at my fingernails. “Nothing really. Just the normal end of semester stress and trying to juggle my time.”
“Oh, do you usually have trouble with that?”
“No.” I don’t want to talk in front of all these people, but I’m being graded. I add, “It’s just lately my time seems to get away from me. Add that to the end of semester assignments and I’m swamped. It’s nothing major. Summer will come and then I’ll have too much time. Time’s like that, right? We either have too much or too little. It’s never spot-on.” I smile at her.