When I reach past him, my arm brushes his and he jumps. Sean steadies himself and closes his eyes for a second. “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”
“Part of it, yeah. I shouldn’t see you anymore.”
“But…?”
“But I can’t stay away from you. I know what you’re talking about with the pain becoming unbearable. The only thing that breaks it for me is you. Something about you makes me feel like I might pull through even though, I’m inches away from a crash. It’s stupid, but—”
He puts his hand over mine. “It’s not stupid. I know exactly what you mean.”
Looking into his eyes, I ask, “So what now? I’m not okay with you doing other girls.”
Sean tosses his coffee into the trash can. Then he puts his hands around my waist and tugs me to him. Our h*ps line up and press into each other. He tilts his head to the side. “I’m not okay with you being with other guys. How far did you go the other night? Can you tell me? Will you tell me?”
I smile softly. This is my Sean. This is the one I want, the imperfectly perfect version that’s vulnerable. “Will I tell you? Do you really want me to?”
He nods. His eyes are locked on mine. Sean swallows hard, watching me, waiting for an answer that he doesn’t want to hear. He leans in and presses his forehead to mine. “Please, Avery, tell me. Not knowing is worse than knowing.”
I take a deep breath and put my hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Sean looks up from under his lashes. He presses his lips to mine for a second and nods. “Yes.”
This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had. It’s like he’s asking me to hurt him, but some of his assumptions are wrong. I lower my gaze. My voice is soft. “We kissed, he touched me—ran his hands over my body—and saw me in the outfit you picked out.” Sean is so tense, but he doesn’t speak. He continues to look at me like I’m slipping away from him. “Should I go on?”
“Yes.” His jaw locks after he says the word.
“He kissed my neck and my br**sts before he…” I’m breathing too hard. I can’t tell him this stuff. It looks like it’s killing him. The pain on his face makes me cut to the last part. “Sean, he hasn’t had me yet.”
He blinks like he couldn’t have possibly heard me right. “What?”
“Henry likes me. He wanted to ask me out, but since I’m working for Black—”
“He can’t.”
“Right, so he ordered me. I didn’t have sex with him, yet.”
“Yet?”
I nod. “He wants me again. I’ll end up hav**g s*x 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.
Emma nods. “What are the major things that consume your time?”
“Work and school.”
“I understand that can be difficult. Where do you work?”
Crap. I straighten a little bit more and lie. “At a steakhouse.”
“Stop,” Dr. Pratz interrupts and steps between us. He turns to Emma. “Do you feel like you’re making progress?”
Emma squirms in her seat. “Yes, I think so.”
“Avery, since we only have a few minutes here, throw her a bone. Resume.” He steps back and the clock is ticking again.
Throw her a bone? How the hell do I do that? I try to think of something that she can run with that won’t make everyone get a glimpse into my mind. I chose something that seems harmless. “My friends are stressing me out. One is really stressing me out. He keeps saying he’ll change, but he doesn’t.” How’s that for a bone? I won’t say it’s Sean, but that should give her enough to work with for a few moments.
Dr. Pratz nods at me, pleased. Good.
Emma presses her lips together. Her forehead is creased with worry. “Ah, so it sounds like you don’t think that people can change?”
“People don’t change.”
“So you completely disregard change theory? You don’t believe a person can change when they set their mind to it?”
“No, and change theory is just that—a theory. People don’t change. Name one person who truly changed.” Emma opens her mouth, but says nothing. I prod her. “Come on. Anyone.”
“Stop.” Dr. Pratz says. He stands and steps between us. He says to Emma, “She commandeered the conversation. It’s your job to control it. Steer it back so that the questions follow the path you want to take or God knows where you’ll end up. Resume.”
Emma swallows hard. “Why does this friend need to change?”
Because he’s twisted and wants to make me cower in fear before he has sex with me. “To get over his past.”
“Did something traumatic happen to him?” I nod. “I understand. So tell me, how do you think a person gets over something traumatic from their past?” I falter. The smug look on my face drops. She sees it and dives in. “Did something happen to you? Do you feel like you can’t change? Do you feel trapped?”
My heart is pounding and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. I try not to show it, but it’s like everyone can sense she found something. I stare at her like I want to pound her head in when we’re in the parking lot later. I try to keep my voice light and my face expressionless, but it’s impossible. I’m too bitter, too resentful because of what happened. “Yes.”
“Did it change you?”
I nod. We learned that if a person decides that they want to change, that they can. Something has to change inside their mind before the change is complete. But that’s not what happened to me. I didn’t decide to become this way. I woke up one day and the change was forced on me. I glance at Dr. Pratz, hoping he’ll stop her, but he doesn’t. Emma asks, “Is that why you think people can’t change, because you can’t change back?”
Something twitches and it’s like she touched a match to my mind. The entire class is utterly still, watching me. I stare at her. Changing by choice is not possible. If it was, I wouldn’t be like this.
“People don’t change.” I manage. My throat is too tight, my voice is too strained.
“Do you want to change your life? Is it possible that you’re the one who has the problems accepting change and not your friend?”
I stiffen. I forget that I’m in front of a classroom filled with people for a second. My emotions are too raw. “No, it’s because some changes just don’t happen. Some changes can’t happen. Some people are too stuck, too broken. They can’t be fixed, so it doesn’t matter what you ask or how you frame it because the end result is always—”