by Ellie Danes
“I was just surprised to get them is all.”
“Why were you surprised?” I really was confused. “I mean, she was interested, right?”
“Well, we were at the coffee house together…” he trailed.
“And I guess you didn’t think she’d be messaging you over an app, rather than just talking to you.”
“No,” he said. “I mean, I’d gotten used to it by that point of the evening.”
He sighed and shifted, in his seat. “You don’t think it’s weird that she was sending such photos while we were sitting at the same table together?”
I narrowed my eyes. I wasn’t quite understanding something but I wasn’t sure what.
He chuckled, “If we hadn’t been together at the time, I would have thought she’d taken just them, but—”
The light bulb went off. “So it surprised you because she already owned the photos, and they likely weren’t taken for you.”
He nodded, a smile widening across his face. “I mean, yeah, don’t people usually send sexy photos of themselves in the state that they’re currently in. You know, to entice more?”
It was weird talking about sex with Craig. Really weird. But I didn’t feel awkward anymore. I was actually interested.
“I wouldn’t know,” I scoffed. My love life was non-existent. “Never have done much picture sharing. I was a huge book nerd. Hardly ever dated during school . . . or since really. And when I have, it hasn’t really turned out well.”
“Really? You must like to date jerks, because I see no problem with you,” he smirked.
“Wow, such a sweet talker!” I laughed, grabbing my cup off the table to bring it to my lips.
“I have game!” he exclaimed. But rather than come across as confident and cocky like Ian would have, it came across more like he was trying to convince himself.
I smiled. “Is that right? Go ahead, tell me about this game you have,” I said. “Oh, wait. Are you referring to women sending you unsolicited sexy photos on Facebook?” I joked.
“Okay, maybe I don’t have game,” he grinned. “Because when I asked who she’d initially taken the photos for, she got mad.”
I laughed. Out loud. Probably a little too loudly. “I would say so!”
“What do you mean?”
I groaned. “You might be a therapist, Craig, but my God, you’re a man. So, therefore you’re still an idiot at times.”
“Apparently!” he laughed. “And all of this was while she was sitting across from me. Of course, I asked her in person. Needless to say, I took her home shortly after.”
He leaned back, grabbing his cup with a smirk on his face. He acted exhausted after the story. “Like I said, I needed a drink. So I went and got the biggest Gin and Tonic I’d ever seen!”
“The doctor was drinking!” I laughed, leaning back in my chair as well. “That’s something I would have loved to see!”
“Oh, so you want me to have a drink?” he smiled, leaning forward again, so that he was leaning on his elbow. “Trying to get me drunk and take advantage, are ya?”
Oh God. There it was. The flirting again. And I knew right then that we were about to enter territories I wasn’t sure I was able to cross into. Territories I wasn’t sure I had jurisdiction to.
“Definitely not!” I scoffed, jokingly. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what you were like with a drink or two in you, though.” Craig was so buttoned down. Even more than me, and what the hell was straighter than a straight arrow, anyway? Because whatever it was, that was Craig.
It would have definitely been fun to see him cut loose.
“I actually would like to get a drink with you sometime,” he said. “So thank you for that invitation!”
“A drink honestly sounds kind of perfect right now,” I sighed. It would help me get over the fact that my mind was still whirling on what the hell I was doing — or going to do. About Craig. About Ian. About my anger, guilt, sadness, and resentment.
“So you know, I would definitely love to do that, but I’m not sure if I can,” I said, a devilish grin on my face.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, because how on earth can you drink gin?” I questioned. “That’s literally the worst alcohol ever!”
“Your opinion!” He shot back, feigning offense. “You know you want to be my drinking partner,” he teased. “Anyway, you did say you could use one.”
I shifted uncomfortably. I knew I shouldn’t have said I needed a drink. “Yeah, just a terrible couple of weeks.”
“Oh?” he asked, almost perking up. “What’s going on?”
I knew he was being a shrink all over again. Fun Craig was gone for a minute, and therapist Craig was trying to get me to open up.
“Just been in a weird funk, but it should all be good soon enough!” I was hoping my upbeat response would lighten the mood enough to make the questions go away, but he looked at me sternly, his head cocked to the side.
“How’ve you been feeling lately?”
“Other than tired and yawning a lot?” I asked with a smile. I didn’t want the conversation to go where I thought it might. I didn’t really want to open up.
“Yeah, other than that.” He was still being serious.
And for some reason, I decided to give him what he wanted.
“I don’t know,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve just been getting up earlier than usual. Hungry all the time, but not really wanting to eat. I can’t concentrate or remember anything. I’m always stuck inside my own head and I’m irritable — really freakin’ irritable.”
Craig rested both arms on the table and shifted his body forward, listening as I talked. “Is that all?” he asked.
I sighed heavily, hating that I was talking about myself, but it was sort of nice getting it off my chest. I didn’t expect myself to continue — and continue some more.
“No. I really hated getting out of the apartment today. I was mad at Claire. Imagine how shitty of a sister I have to be to be mad at her over something like that; over me having to leave the house and be social when I really just want to be curled up in bed mindlessly watching Netflix.” Word vomit was basically streaming out of my wide-open flap, and I wanted to shove it all back in.
“You sound like you’re depressed…” he trailed, and immediately I held my breath. Why in the hell would I talk to a shrink about this, anyway? And not just a shrink, but also a shrink that knew me personally. But he didn’t stop with the “depression” diagnosis. He kept going. “I knew things seemed off with you,” he said.
“Ouch, that terrible?” I laughed, trying to ease off the subject with humor. I knew I was upset, but depressed? That might have been taking it a bit far.
He smiled. “But you seem like you are at least able to concentrate right now!” he reassured me. “Somewhat, at least!”
“Oh, really?” I’d been basically blanking constantly since leaving the apartment. I was a total useless disaster at the school, and hadn’t listened to him at all on our way to Starbucks or while we were standing in line. What the hell made him think I was concentrating on anything? I was barely concentrating on getting the much needed caffeine and sugar I held in a cup in my hand into my body.
“Yes!” he chuckled. “We are actually having a conversation, finally!”
I sighed. I wanted to abort mission. Immediately. This had gone from fun and playful to a full-blown therapy session. I was glad we were talking, and that I wasn’t ignoring him anymore, but damn, I didn’t want to have a conversation about me and the ridiculous mental issues I was having over the past couple weeks.
“I’m not depressed, though,” I said simply. “Just upset about some stuff.”
“Oh?” he asked, clearly prompting me to continue.
“I was just sort of seeing a guy…” I started, not really sure why I wanted to keep going.
I was supposed to be trying to forget about Ian, not talking about him. Let alone talking about him with a therapist!
But there was somethi
ng about Craig that made me want to tell him more.
“A guy?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s over now, though.”
That wasn’t a lie. It was over. I just wasn’t completely over him.
“And that’s why you’re upset?” he asked, a faint smile curving over his lips. It seemed like the whole, “it’s over” comment almost made him perk up, because as soon as I got the words out of my mouth, his lips started to move. How professional of him, I thought sarcastically. I wanted to laugh, but I also wanted to hit him in the face.
“Don’t seem so happy about it!” I laughed, although part of me was being serious.
“Oh, no,” he smiled. “I’m not trying to give you that impression. I'm just glad you’re talking to me.”
He smiled, and something in me just couldn’t help but to return it. Craig was an awesome guy, and his smile was one of the most infectious smiles I’d ever seen.
“Look, I’m not going to doctor you. That would be a major conflict of interest, but I will say that you may want to eliminate some stress.”
“Doesn't everything cause stress?” I laughed, but he looked at me, narrowed eyes.
“Good point. Try to eliminate extra stress,” he said. “Which means crappy boyfriends. Or ex-boyfriends.”
“I guess this is why you get paid the big bucks.” I laughed.
He smirked.
“Isn’t it hard not to become emotionally invested?” I asked, because I honestly worried about that for myself moving forward into teaching.
He looked down for a second and fingered at the lid of his cup, before glancing up with a smile directly at me. “It definitely is,” he cleared his throat, changing the subject. “So this guy… tell me about him,” He looked like he’d been a little close to choking up. I wondered if he’d meant me when referring to getting emotionally invested.
“What does he look like?” he laughed. “Cuter than me?”
I smiled. He was trying to lighten the mood once again — but if he knew anything he’d get the hint that I didn’t really want to talk about it. But I guess he wasn’t used to taking those hints as per his job. I mean, his job was to probe. So why would he start backing off now? I was just glad he wasn’t really probing, and instead just asking. Lightly even. Casually.
“Um, he’s blonde, gorgeous, and a total asshole. Nothing much left to say.”
He frowned. “Sorry to hear that.” And I believed him.
A silence brushed over us as we continued to sip our coffee. I gazed outside for a few minutes, watching people rush through the streets, some arm in arm with others, some completely by themselves — but everyone just going about their own lives. Most of the faces were smiling. Hardly any looked sullen, and I wondered for a moment if I was the only person not in-love with New York City. Everyone else always seemed so happy.
“So, I’ve come to a conclusion,” Craig said out of nowhere. I turned my gaze toward him. “You totally have a crush on me!” he laughed after a long pause.
“Excuse me?” I choked on my coffee.
“Just trying to get you to relax a bit,” he laughed. “You looked like you were getting tense just looking outside.”
“Ha… have any medication for that?”
“I don’t typically write prescriptions, but in this case, I’ll make an exception,” he stated, before grabbing a pen and pad from his coat pocket.
“No, Craig, that’s really not—” I started, but he held his hand up to stop me.
“I insist,” he said, as he jotted smooth strokes over the paper. “Here.”
He smiled as he handed me the paper. I looked at it, with a tear threatening to fall from the brim of my eye. It was a small picture of a cartoon version of me, with stars around my head. In big letters over the stars read, “Reach for the stars! That’s where you deserve to be!” and below on the RX line, it said, “Take 1 dose of needed R&R after finishing your drink with the handsome Doctor.”
“So, that’s what you are? ‘The handsome Doctor’?” I asked, almost giggling.
“My Mom seems to think so!” he laughed. “But hey, if you don’t, then… you know…plain ol’ doctor will work just fine!”
“Handsome isn’t a far stretch,” I smiled. I was hoping it wasn’t too much of a lead-on, but what else was I supposed to say? I was being honest. He was handsome. Extremely handsome. But I probably shouldn’t have said anything, knowing he liked me.
“I knew it. You’re totally into me. You’ve probably searched me on Google. Which I will say, I probably have an amazing Google track-record.”
I laughed again. “That doesn’t surprise me. You’re squeaky clean, I’m sure.”
“It’s only fair. I’ve Googled you a few times,” he said, a blush rising to his cheeks. I wondered if he was serious. I wasn’t creeped out like I would have been with someone else. With Craig, I knew he was just being his dorky, nerdy self. He wasn’t being stalkerish.
“You can Google me?” I laughed. “Do I have a Wikipedia page, too?” I was smirking.
“No. Not quite that famous,” he laughed. “But I did find out a few things.”
“Oh, really?”
“No, not really. You’re pretty boring.”
I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me either.”
I took another sip of my drink, getting closer and closer to the bottom of the cup. The liquid had cooled down to room temperature. “So, you have built up your Google search results to make you look awesome to all your lady stalkers, huh?”
His mouth fell open, “Stalkers?” he asked, shocked. “I’ll have you know that respectable people Google nowadays!”
“Oh, really?” I asked, my brow rising in inquisition.
“I mean sure, I told you about Megan, right?” He leaned forward, and lowered his volume like he was telling me a secret in a playful way. “That’s nothing compared to all the other ladies.”
I’d never heard him talk so freely. It was refreshing, really. He was definitely becoming more and more confident the more the conversation went forward.
“The other ladies, huh? Just how many other ladies are Googling you?” I teased even more. I really wasn’t sure what was coming over me.
“Well, that depends…” he smirked. “Are you jealous?”
I rolled my eyes again and let another silence pass over us. He knew I wasn’t jealous. He was just playing. Part of me, though, knew that a part of him wanted me to say that I was actually jealous.
I took a deep breath, finally feeling a little better, and looked around the Starbucks, trying to take the customers in. I always liked to watch people — especially when I was feeling bad — and Starbucks was always a good place to do it.
There were always people from many different backgrounds and ideologies all stuffed in one place. I mean, after all, pretty much everyone wanted coffee.
I couldn’t believe it though. How much better I’d felt. Well, how much better I’d felt until I finished my scanning of the restaurant.
My heart stopped when I glanced over and saw the man I’d been trying so desperately to forget.
Ian. Fucking Ian. I’d saw him almost immediately, too. He was waiting on his coffee. He wasn’t looking our way, and I wondered if he’d spotted us yet.
I looked away. But the more I kept replaying what I’d said to him — that I’d told him I was on a date — the worse I felt for lying to him. I glanced up from the table, and found myself scanning the room looking for him again. Eventually, my eyes fell on him waiting for his coffee. He looked disheveled.
I was staring. Hardcore staring when he caught me. The look on his face said it was the first time he’d realized I was there.
I glanced back over to Craig, and then back to Ian. Back and forth. Back and forth. I wasn’t able to formulate sentences. I didn’t know what to say. I sure as hell didn’t know what to do. I was trying to figure it out when I noticed Ian start to move toward us, his gaze deadlocked on Craig.
When he reached
us, he just stood there, looming over us until he crossed his arms over his chest, almost accusingly.
He stayed silent for a few moments like he was waiting for something, only I didn’t know what.
What I did know was that one minute I was sad and feeling guilty, the next I wanted to punch him in the face. And I wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe it was the fact that he was coming up to me after I’d told him I had a date, and looking down at me with that accusing expression, or maybe it was the fact that he just made my blood boil in general when in close-proximity.
Whatever it was . . . I was mad.
I looked over to Craig, who looked confused as he stared at Ian then at me and back again.
“Craig Furhman, meet Ian Cross.” I said quietly, my voice almost choked as I gestured for the two men.
Craig extended his hand and stood. Ian, though, just glanced at Craig for a second and nodded smugly, showing complete disinterest in taking his hand.
I looked apologetically at Craig as he mouthed a “wow” under his breath. He flashed a half smile at me to show that it was alright as he sat back down. I wondered if he’d put two and two together and figured out who Ian was by his actions.
“Mr. Cross, if you don’t mind, we’re sort of in the middle of something here,” Craig said, taking more action than I’d expected him to. But it was a good thing because I was completely speechless. My heart was in my throat, preventing me from doing anything except look between the two men.
“I do mind, actually,” Ian snapped Everything slowed down. I looked at Craig, I was absolutely terrible by Ian’s assholeish behavior. Craig just looked at me and swallowed hard. I wondered if he was half-waiting on Ian to pull him off the chair and physically assault him.
That wouldn’t happen. Ian was a lot of things — he was certainly a jerk — but publicly unrefined he was not. He was all about appearances. He cared about his image; and he certainly cared about how others perceived him. Well, except for maybe Craig at the moment, clearly.
I hated that he’d caused a mini scene with Craig. He was finally getting me out of my slump. I was finally laughing. Really laughing.
I was finally smiling.
I was finally something other than a pitiful ball of sadness.
