“Such as?” She didn’t want him to stop talking. She liked watching that mouth, and his accent was perfectly clear and perfectly compelling.
“Oh, you know, stuff like, ‘My parents decided to buy me a house while I study so I don’t have to deal with landlords.’” His brows puckered and he gave her a crooked smile. “Meanwhile, I’m trying to live on a student loan that would appall a gerbil.”
She smiled before she could stop herself. Blue Eyes smiled back, looking suddenly embarrassed.
“Strange how easy it is to talk about yourself when it’s all anonymous, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.
She gave a noncommittal shrug since the counselor had been trying to get her to talk about herself for twenty weeks now.
There was a short silence before she realized that it was her turn. With a quick swallow to hold back the unease, she tried to belt through her childhood as succinctly and calmly as possible.
“My parents came from money, but they screwed it all up on bad investments before I was born. We don’t talk much.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he said. He looked like he meant it. “I don’t talk much to mine either, at least not outside of their monthly emails.”
Her brows rose. “What do they email about? To catch up?”
His gaze briefly flicked away, and the corners of his mouth grew tight. “Not exactly. They’re not those sort of parents. My mum’s kind of … well, she’s pished more often than not, and my dad—”
“Pished?”
“Ach, sorry, I mean drunk,” he said with a small smile that tugged at that familiar dull ache in her chest. “Go on.”
With a sigh, she said, “Fortunately, my parents never resorted to alcohol, but there was this constant air of bitterness and resentment at home because we had to live like normal people.” She stared at his chin—it was a very attractive chin—to avoid having to look him in the eye and see his reaction.
“That’s tragic.”
His sarcasm made one corner of her lips quirk.
“So no fancy private schooling then?”
“Nope. I went to the only public school in our town and pretty much suffered from the single most prevailing problem of kids who grow up in the country.”
When she paused, Blue Eyes leaned forward a scant inch and asked, “What?
“Having absolutely nothing to do.”
She found herself sharing another smile with him, and something warm and entirely unwelcome settled in her stomach.
“So then what did you do with yourself?” he asked. He had yet to lean back. His smile and the way he kept asking her to elaborate, as if he actually wanted to know more about her, made her feel annoyingly flustered.
“I used to steal wine from the cellar and climb this huge oak tree in our backyard to drink it alone.” At his questioning look, she said, “It was a good hiding place.”
“Why’d you do it alone?”
She rolled her eyes. “I would have invited friends, but I didn’t have any. Probably because I’m really bad at pretending to care about what people think of me.”
“Some people consider that a good thing.”
“Maybe you could introduce me to some,” she said. “Half the people you meet are only nice because they want something from you, even if it’s just your respect. Why should I respect a stranger I know nothing about? Being a decent person shouldn’t come with a motive, and yet most people do nice things expecting to be rewarded. It’s a form of entitlement. But none of them matter to me, so why should I care about what they feel they deserve from me?”
Blue Eyes cocked his head. “So what do you do when you need respect from someone who does matter?”
She thought about what she and Helena were going through. Helena was one of the few people who mattered in her life, which meant there weren’t many things Leah wouldn’t do for her. But he didn’t need to know that.
She pursed her lips, and then wished she hadn’t when those gorgeous eyes dropped to her mouth. Maintaining maximum aloofness, she said, “Then I’m only as polite and accommodating as absolutely necessary.”
He looked like he wanted to laugh. She wondered what it would sound like.
“Why do you think it’s such a bad thing to want to be liked?”
She looked down at her lap and considered lying. It would be easy. But with complete anonymity already between them, lying just didn’t feel right, especially with this particular guy. And after today, she would likely never see him again anyway, even if they did attend the same university.
“There was this girl,” she said without looking up. “During gym class in third grade, she tried to kiss me. I pushed her away, but some kids saw and they … Well, let’s just say they were complete shits. So I defended her, which of course resulted in everyone assuming I was a lesbian, too. Nobody would talk to me after that, not even my friends. Even some of the teachers began ignoring me, and one of them in particular, the one who told me I could be anything I wanted, she sent a note home to my parents so they’d be aware of my ‘issue.’ I guess ‘anything’ was conditional.” She sighed and rubbed her thumb over the ridge of her knuckles. “People always eventually let you down.”
Blue Eyes didn’t say anything, but something in his face made her feel like he understood. She didn’t know what to make of it, and she didn’t want to feel whatever connection might be happening between them.
“Anyway,” she continued, “it at least left me plenty of time to study. Eventually, my parents sold the estate, and we moved into the old vacation home here.” She hadn’t wanted to leave Elijah so she’d stayed in town and gone to college here as well. “I got a couple scholarships, but it didn’t cover everything, and I knew my parents weren’t going to help me, so I was on my own. Luckily, my best friend realized I needed help and offered to share an apartment with me to take the edge off rent.”
“That was good of her. Him?”
“Her. And yeah, she kept me from getting too off track. My first year of college, I went a little crazy and almost failed half my classes.” Being physically close with someone had always made her wary. Sex was such an intimate thing, and she hadn’t known if she could share her body with someone without also sharing more of herself. But she had set out to try.
After her first time, she’d been a little skeptical about sex in general, but it did eventually start to feel good. Turned out she was able have sex with someone without having to deal with the emotional side of it.
In fact, she had learned to completely close off the emotional side of it.
But that didn’t necessarily mean she had a problem. If this had happened her freshman year, then maybe, yes, she might have admitted to an addiction. But she was past that stage in her life. Now, meaningless sex every once in a while was a perfectly acceptable choice.
“So you’re a student too. What do you study?” Blue Eyes asked, sounding for all the world like he was actually interested.
She was pretty sure questions like that were forbidden as part of the anonymity rule, but she was unable to disappoint him.
“I’m majoring in writing, but I’m doing a minor in web design.”
“Hm. Both professions with limited human interaction,” he said, smiling knowingly.
Again, she couldn’t stop the smile breaking out. It was true. “And the ability to work from home when I need to.”
“Now, if you would all like to move back into a circle.” The counselor’s extremely unwelcome voice intruded on her time with Blue Eyes, making her appreciate how much she had enjoyed it.
She liked the way he expressed himself. She liked his total lack of self-pity. They fidgeted their way back into the group, and she resumed her glaring at the counselor. Smiling at Blue Eyes had been unusual and disturbing. Glaring was a relief.
“I’m passing around pieces of paper, and I want you to write down the first word that comes to you regarding the childhood that was just described to you. Then swap papers with your partner. Sometimes the be
st perspective on our past, which inevitably influences our present, will come from other people.”
What a pile of crap. Leah sighed.
She stared at the piece of paper and thought about the things Blue Eyes had told her. The image of a young child microwaving instant noodles or soup or whatever else he could find for his dinner kept coming back to her.
‘Lonely,’ she wrote, before folding up the paper and glancing at Blue Eyes. He was just folding up his piece as well, and they awkwardly swapped. She watched him open the paper she’d just handed him, saw the intake of breath. Then she read her own verdict.
Her own breath caught in her throat. The sounds of shuffling feet and crinkling paper faded around her. She thought about a large, empty house with only the characters inside her books to keep her company. About parents who never talked about love or family and what those things were supposed to mean. She swallowed thickly as she read and reread the single neatly-written word.
It said ‘Lonely.’
Chapter Seven
Will lingered just outside the circle as everyone else began putting on their coats and shuffling out into the cool night. The creeper with the dirty cap cast him a curious look, but Will ignored it. He knew he was doing an unconvincing job of looking nonchalant. Namely because he was taking longer to put on his coat than any guy in the history of the world.
Despite what he’d said to his boss, he’d been looking forward to coming back tonight. All week, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wanted to know why she was in these meetings, and today’s session had given him a glimpse at the answer. Hypersexuality was as much about sex as alcoholism was about the alcohol. People who didn’t have fulfilling family relationships often looked for other ways to fill in the emotional gap.
Physical attraction was one thing, but he wanted to understand her as well, especially after they’d written the same word about each other’s childhoods. The more he learned about her, the more intrigued he became. Today’s conversation had only deepened the imprint she’d left in him.
Of course, talking to her again was probably a bad idea. Liking her would be even worse. Anything more than a passing interest in her meant he would have to confess his non-sex addiction status (although it wasn’t difficult to imagine getting addicted to sex with the grumpy beauty) and hope not to get punched.
The counselor came over as he was waiting for her to help the old lady, who was either extremely nearsighted or extremely clumsy, navigate her way to the door before returning to put her coat on.
“Would you mind stacking the chairs for me?” the counselor asked apologetically. “I am running rather late.”
“Of course.” Will grinned, snatching at his opportunity.
So it was that the slowest chair-stacking possible began, and within a few minutes, he was alone with her.
“Well,” said the grumpy beauty (he really needed a name for her). She tucked a wisp of blonde hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear and gave a small, stiff wave. “See you.”
“Do you think it’s working?” he asked, keen to prevent her from leaving.
“What?” she asked. Sarcasm laced her voice. “The so-called therapy?”
“Aye.”
“It must be, I guess. Do I look like I’m having sex?” She sounded disappointed about it.
He smiled. “Not right this second, no.”
“Well, then.”
“Yep.”
He watched her hesitate, clearly waiting for him to make a move and prolong the moment despite the awkwardness. He walked over to take a chair that was next to her while suppressing that nagging thread of guilt that he should just leave and stop making things more difficult for the both of them. After all, this girl might really have a problem, and the best thing Will could do was stay professional and keep his distance.
He bent to pick up the chair. Their arms brushed, and he caught the scent of her shampoo—lavender. His fingers closed around the edges of the chair, lifting, but his eyes caught and remained on the way her lips had parted. A split second later, she grabbed hold of his coat and jerked him nearer.
He forgot every excuse he’d given himself about not wanting her. Without a thought to reason, they were kissing. It was even better than the teasing sensations of Will’s dreams. It was hot and hungry and desperate, as though they couldn’t stop. Heat shot straight down his spine.
He dropped the chair.
And put his arms around her (if only he knew her name), and the kiss became frantic, determined, significant. His chest felt full to bursting, and for a moment, he almost drew back, startled by his reaction. But she was warm, her lips soft and eager, her body like a line of fire against him. She was the furthest thing from an Ice Queen he’d ever met.
He felt shaking hands run through his hair and stroke the back of his neck. He reached down, smoothed his palm along her thigh and tugged her tighter against him. She gasped.
And then so did someone else.
Oops.
They broke apart like guilty teenagers, aware that they had been caught. He felt embarrassingly out of breath. The counselor stood in front of them, shaking his head.
“I came back for my keys,” he told them sternly.
Will stiffened his spine. The counselor’s look alone left him feeling thoroughly chastised despite the fact that he wasn’t really the one who had fallen off the wagon.
“I am very disappointed with you both,” the counselor said. “I hope it wouldn’t have gone any further, but by the look of things, I think it would have.”
Will looked down at his rumpled shirt. Then he glanced at her, and his throat grew dry. Her pale skin was flushed, her lips pursed into an unhappy pout, and her arms were crossed, pushing up her chest. The urge to kiss her again was powerful, even with the counselor watching. He looked away and coughed into his fist.
“It’s so important to abstain from sex until the therapy is well established. Especially sex with another addict!”
“I’ve been coming for the last twenty weeks. When will it be well established?” the girl asked coolly.
Will cast her a surprised look. He had no idea she’d been coming for that long, and he glanced back at the counselor to await his answer. Will wanted to know as well.
“When you finally accept that you have a problem, and are willing to work to fix it,” he said evenly.
The girl rolled her eyes. “It was only a kiss.”
“Nevertheless, we are leaving now, and I expect to see you both go home—in different directions.”
Will was very aware of the fury radiating from his partner in crime as the three of them walked out onto the open street. He couldn’t help feeling relieved that she was visibly as frustrated as him, but along with that frustration was the returning guilt that it probably shouldn’t have happened at all.
The counselor escorted Will to his car, and minutes later, he’d left far behind the girl who would most definitely haunt his dreams again.
Chapter Eight
Leah had checked in on Elijah prior to the meeting—shockingly, her mom had been home and had already made dinner—so she went straight back to her apartment afterward. She walked in to find Helena reveling in her new living room. Their old one had been furnished with an assortment of discounted, inherited and reclaimed oddments. Nothing had matched. Now with the loan Leah took out to replace everything that had been stolen, the room was color-coordinated (a pink sofa, Leah noted—who would have thought such a thing existed?) and, she had to admit, pretty cool.
Helena greeted her at the door, grinning her head off, and took her on a guided tour. Leah wondered if her friendliness meant that she was finally forgiven.
“Look at this dinner table. Don’t you love it? It’s so formal!” Helena gushed, running her fingers over the dark, glossy wood. She had set a red runner along the middle and accented it with a red crystal vase filled with dry branches long enough to almost touch the hanging lights.
Leah did sort of
look forward to eating on it. Eventually. Her bed had become her new favorite place to eat.
Before she could form a reply, Helena ushered her down the hall. Her new bedroom set was cherry wood, and the top of her dresser was already cluttered with textbooks, papers, and the impressive three-tier, blue brocade box where she kept her formidable collection of nail polishes and nail care tools. Helena considered her nails a canvas. At the moment, they were chic black and white diagonal stripes with a line of rhinestones along the tip.
Nearly hidden behind the clutter was a picture frame Leah thought had been taken along with everything else. It was a simple black frame with a pink flower painted in one corner. It displayed a photo of them at the park, taken on one of many evenings Helena had joined her and Elijah. Leah had taken Helena shopping on her birthday and let her pick out the frame. Leah was crap at giving presents (lack of practice), and didn’t see the point in giving something unless she was certain the recipient would like it.
“Looks really great,” Leah said, and meant it.
Helena beamed and gripped her hand before tugging her back down the short hall to the living room. A thirty-two-inch flat screen television stood in place of the nineteen-inch dinosaur they’d had before. It was currently tuned into some sitcom featuring a talking dog. She cast Helena, who had ducked into the kitchen, a dubious look before turning the channel to a documentary featuring a pride of lionesses stalking a gazelle.
The lionesses had just taken it down when Helena returned juggling a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and a plate of microwaved hot pockets.
Leah smiled. They ate like queens. Oh yeah.
Helena made a face at the TV, where the lionesses were stripping flesh from the gazelle while buzzards waited in a nearby tree, and set their dinner on the coffee table. “Well, now I’m really hungry,” she said.
Addicted to You Page 4
