by Eva Luxe
“I had a lovely time. Thank you.”
“I did too,” I tell her, and even though it’s the kind of bullshit thing that people usually say after any date, I really mean it this time. “Thanks for celebrating with me.”
“Any time.”
It sounds like an invitation, so I draw in closer to her.
I smell the lingering scent of calamari and cheese and fruit-flavored cocktails but I also smell her. An enticing mix of lotion and subtle yet sweet natural body odor.
“I want to kiss you,” I tell her, my mouth already against her soft lips.
She opens her lips a bit wider and I slip my tongue into her wet mouth. I grab hold of her hips and draw them closer to mine.
Time stands still as we kiss, until I’m pulling at her hair and rubbing up against her in a nearly animal-like state. She has me so fuckin’ hard, and wanting her so badly.
This is exactly what I was imagining it would be like. And now I need to do everything else I’ve been wanting to do to her.
“I want to fuck you,” I tell her.
She pulls away, slowly.
“Not… yet. Not now.”
She smooths down her hair but the way she is breathing tells me she’s into it. So, what the hell?
I’m not used to chicks turning me down. Denying me the one thing I want. And I haven’t wanted anyone this bad for a long, long time. Maybe ever.
“Soon, then,” I tell her, lightly slapping her ass as she reaches for her keys.
“Yes,” she says, and stands on her tiptoes to kiss me on the chin before retreating into her house.
I reach up and grab ahold of her ass underneath her skirt, and she lets me for just a second, before hurrying into the house.
“See you soon,” she tells me, with a wink.
Damn. That fucking girl.
As soon as I’m in the car, I call Jensen.
“So you called it an early night?” he asks, as soon as he picks up. “Guess it didn’t go as well as you’d hoped?”
“No, it went fine,” I tell him, feeling strangely elated for some reason. “It was great. Except, she didn’t give it up.”
“Aww man,” says Jensen, as if he can feel my physical pain. “I remember those days. Oh well, on to the next, right?”
“She said, ‘soon.’”
I know I sound like a schoolboy full of unabated hope, but I can’t help it.
“Uh oh. You know what that sounds like?”
“I know.”
“She’s dragging you along. She’s holding out. For a commitment. Or some other crazy reason these chicks have. That’s against your rules. You can’t see her again. You always say so yourself, right? Harlow don’t play that way?”
I sigh. I don’t even care. I’ve forgotten about all my old dating rules— the number one rule being that I hit it and quit it or I just quit it. I only want to see Whitney again and that’s all I can think about right now.
Sure, I’ll see her again at my sessions but I want her to look at me like that, and talk to me like that, and kiss me like that. And let me do what I want to her, over and over and over again.
“Harlow,” says Jensen, snapping me back to reality. “Tell me you aren’t falling for your physical therapist.”
“I’m not. I mean, I don’t know. I mean…”
“Harlow! Get a grip.”
“Oh, look who’s talking. You fell for your fucking lawyer.”
“Riley wasn’t my lawyer at the time,” Jensen says quickly and defensively.
But I don’t buy any of his flimsy excuses. Jensen met his now-girlfriend when she was assigned to represent him in a bogus criminal charge.
For a while she might not have been his attorney, but that’s just mincing words. I know their history, because I spent a lot of late nights listening to him tell me the ins and outs of it at Louie’s over beer or pool, so he can’t deny it now.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re the pot and I’m the kettle.”
“Harlow, seriously,” Jensen says, and I can hear it in his voice. “I’m happy for you. And if you manage to bang your physical therapist I’m all for it. But just don’t get too close, emotionally. To a woman who has the power to make you or break you. It really is different than with Riley.”
“How?”
“Because this girl knows she has control over the one thing you want the most in the world.”
“Oh, you mean like Riley did over your freedom? Whether or not you went to jail?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Harlow. I get it. I see your point. But there were a hundred different lawyers I could have turned to if things hadn’t worked out.”
I still think he’s being a fucking hypocrite but I try to let him finish.
“She’s the physical therapist they assigned you, and don’t you think Dr. Davis had something to do with that?” Jensen asks. “What do you think he would say? Why don’t you go ask your mentor what he thinks about you being not only sexually but romantically involved with your physical therapist? Not only a one-night-fling or a friendly flirtation to keep things interesting in between your push- ups, but a real deal relationship?”
He has me there. I have no idea what’s been up with Dr. Davis lately but I’m relatively certain he wouldn’t approve.
“And anyway Harlow, what are you even doing? You don’t even do relationships.”
“I know someone else who used to have that same mantra. Now he’s practically living with some chick he wanted to bang and move on from, just like all the rest.”
He’s silent. I’ve won.
“I guess they’re just like all the rest… until, for whatever reason, they’re not,” he concedes.
“Yeah. For whatever reason.”
“Well good luck little brother. But don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”
Chapter 31 – Whitney
I get into work and call Dr. Davis first thing, before I can forget. I receive his voicemail greeting, and then I remember how early I get to work, and that most people are still at home sleeping. So, I leave a message, informing him of Harlow’s positive progress and asking if he would like to talk further about perhaps changing his treatment plan to be more suitable.
I start out on some paperwork but my mind is still on Harlow. That kiss was electrifying and unlike anything I’d ever experienced with Tony or anyone else.
I wanted to let things go further but I was also scared. Scared of losing my internship. Scared I wouldn’t be able to walk away if I let Harlow that far into my pants— and into my life. And scared he would forget all about me as soon as he fucked me. I think that was my worst fear— for me to be hanging on and him wanting to let me go, but still having to see each other each day.
So, I listened to my brain and said yes even though my heart— and other parts of me— were saying yes, yes, oh god yes. I’ve been thinking non-stop about all the new, different, exciting and dirty things I want to let this bad boy do to me. After he’s no longer a patient of mine. And if I can hold out that long.
I’m already wondering when it can happen again. I’m wondering what will happen if I don’t stop him next time. If I let him do all the things to me that he wants to do, and that I want him to do…
Luckily, I have a patient coming in and I know that working with him will keep me focused. I’ve never liked the paperwork aspect of this job nearly as much as I enjoy being hands on with the clients. My grades are good because I force myself to study, but my clinic evaluations are always top notch because I truly love that part of it.
As I work with the patient my mind continues to flutter back and forth to Harlow. Much like my heart. I’m sad that I don’t get to see him today. But I decide I’m going to play it cool and not call or text him. I watch enough romantic comedy movies to know that’s not a good idea.
When I’m finished with the patient, I check my office voicemail only to find that I still haven’t heard back from Dr. Davis. So, I walk down the hall to discuss notes and trea
tment plans with Lance. Secretly, I also want to tell him about my “date” with Harlow, and how well everything is going.
But after I knock on his door, he doesn’t look as happy to see me as he usually does.
“Hello, Whitney.”
It’s such a formal greeting from him, one that I’m definitely not used to.
“Hello, Lance.”
I try to mimic his robot-like voice. Then I let out a small chuckle, expecting him to join me in laughing and then explain what might be up, but he doesn’t. I’m left feeling stupid for using a robo voice, and I also feel as if I’m left guessing about what if anything can be wrong, which is strange.
“Thanks for dropping in on my session with Harlow yesterday,” I continue. “I’m glad you were able to see that—”
“Yeah, about that.” He frowns. “About this whole Harlow thing. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and I really don’t want to know, but I just think you should be careful.”
“I am. I haven’t…”
“I’m not talking about sleeping with him. I’m talking about whatever you’re doing during his treatment that is contrary to Dr. Davis’ wishes.”
“What?”
“Look. If I knew more of what was going on, I would say more. All I know is that Dr. Davis has contacted the facility…”
“He has? Today? Well, that’s good. I’ve been trying to reach him.”
“That’s probably not a good idea, Whitney. Let the higher-ups deal with him. I have no idea what’s going on with him and maybe you’re right that he’s less than up front about things.”
He takes a cautious look around, as if someone could have possibly come into his office to eavesdrop on us without us knowing. I guess he really is worried about something.
“But apparently,” he continues, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper, “he’s not happy with Harlow’s treatment. There’s going to be some meeting about it and we’ll all know more soon. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this much. But what I do know is that I’m to take over his treatment until this is all ironed out.”
“You’re to… take over his treatment? Lance. But why?”
Despite my best efforts, my eyes well up with tears. I had thought everything was going so well in every way possible, only to find out that the exact opposite is true. I should have known not to get my hopes up.
“I’ve done everything by the book. Harlow is excelling. I don’t understand…”
“It’s probably better this way anyway,” Lance says. “It’s never a good idea to be so emotionally invested in a client. And this way I can protect you from any allegations of incompetence.”
“Incompetence?”
“I’m not saying that there are allegations. I’m just saying that I know you do good work and I want you to do as well here as you possibly can. So if there’s a… problematic client… it’s best you stay out of that mess. Let a more experienced person with job security handle it, while you stay in safer pastures.”
I’m crushed. Here I was thinking that working with Harlow was an exciting challenge that was going to propel my career forward, when in fact it’s a ticking time bomb.
“All right.”
I can’t think of anything else to say, or at least anything I should say.
“It’s okay, love,” Lance says, patting me on the shoulder sympathetically, turning back into the boss and friend I know and love. “I know it’s difficult, but you’re just beginning to see bureaucracy in action.”
Well, okay. If that’s all it is.
I try to hold my head up high as I leave the office. But I can’t help feeling as if I’ve done something terribly wrong.
And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever be able to see Harlow again.
Chapter 32 – Harlow
I call Whitney after five, when I know she’ll be home from her internship. I’ve been waiting all day to hear her voice and I know she doesn’t keep her cell phone on at work.
This isn’t like me, but as I told Jensen, it wasn’t like me until it was. I just can’t explain it, not even to myself.
I begin to think she’s not going to answer, but she finally does after about six rings.
“Hello?”
Her voice sounds hesitant.
“Well, that’s definitely not the greeting I was expecting. What’s wrong?”
“Harlow.”
I wait, but she doesn’t say anything further.
“Yes. Whitney?”
“I can’t talk to you.”
“You can’t… why not?”
It makes no sense. Unless I read it wrong, we had a great time yesterday. And I never read women wrong.
“I need to stay away.”
Oh, I get it.
This is one of those things where girls tell each other not to seem too into a guy. She’s playing hard to get. She’s not very good at it, but it’s cute. I’d almost be flattered, if I weren’t so annoyed.
“Okay, Whitney. But that doesn’t mean I need to stay away from you.”
“What?”
Her voice sounds concerned. She doesn’t even get my joke. I’m beginning to wonder if I really am reading her wrong.
Does she really not want to see me?
“I was on my way home from work, and I’m near your house,” I tell her, determined to plunge ahead with the plan that I had thought was a good idea. “I was thinking of picking up some to-go food and dropping by. Do you like Chinese?”
“Harlow, I… you were at work? At Dr. Davis’?”
“Yep.”
I don’t really understand the relevance of this question, but at least she’s talking to me. She hasn’t hung up. I still have a chance to try to figure out what’s going on with her.
“That’s so strange,” she says. “I called him to talk to him about your case, but I haven’t heard back, although I guess the clinic did hear back…”
She sounds shaken up. Maybe this is all work-related. Or maybe her awful ex-boyfriend has nosed his way back into her life and made some kind of threat.
“Look, I’ll be there soon.”
I bide time, trying to convince her not to hang up on me as I finish driving to her house. I should feel like a creepy stalker but I don’t.
I can sense there’s something bigger going on, that she and I can face together. She just has to let me help her. She has to let me in, physically into her house and metaphorically into her life.
She can’t hang up on me without hearing me out.
“We can talk about it, Whitney. We can deal with it. You and me. It will all be okay.”
She sniffles but says nothing.
There it is.
My opening.
“I’ll be there in thirty. I’m assuming you like Kung Pao Chicken?”
“Okay.”
Yes.
Chapter 33 – Harlow
When I get to Whitney’s house, she still seems standoffish.
She lets me in but walks over to the kitchen table and says, “feel free to sit,” as if I’m some formal guest.
I remove the Chinese take-out from its bag.
She says, “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
I shrug and take a bite of my eggroll.
“So talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I don’t even know, but it seems bad.”
“How so?”
“You know how I’m friends with my supervisor, Lance?”
“Sure. The guy your ex was so sure you were cheating on him with.”
“Ha.” That almost gets her to laugh. “Yeah, him. Well, he’s always super chill but today he told me to ‘be careful’ with you, and that Dr. Davis isn’t happy with how your treatment has been going.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, knowing for sure it must all be some sort of misunderstanding. “I’ll talk to him first thing in the morning and figure out what’s been going on.”
“No, don’t,” she says. “Or he’ll know I talked to you. Lance said he
is taking over your treatment until we figure out what’s going on.”
“What?” I pound my fist on the table. “Sorry. But this has me upset.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“We work so well together,” I insist. “Of course there’s the chemistry but I’m talking about for physical therapy. Everything is going so well.”
“I know. I don’t get it. I have no idea what they think I could have done wrong, unless they don’t like that we’re… getting close.”
“Have they told you that?”
“No. Lance seemed to act as if he didn’t care, and didn’t want to know. And luckily I didn’t get the chance to tell him about last night. I usually would have, because we’re good friends, but it happened so fast, and I guess I had some kind of a clue that he might not approve.”
She gulps, as if not wanting to tell me something, but then she continues.
“When you were running laps, he mentioned something about the possibility of me losing my internship if you and I fooled around, or something, but I don’t know if he meant, like, at work, or after hours, or what. I really need to look at the employee handbook.”
She runs her hands through her pretty, dark hair, her beautiful eyes looking wide and distraught. I just want to comfort her and let her know everything will be okay. I’ve certainly been through a lot worse. But I don’t want to sound insensitive if she really thinks she could be losing her internship, her career. That is a big deal.
“I would think he would tell me if my internship was in immediate danger,” she says. “If he even knew. He seemed to be as in the dark as I am, but I think he has some clue of what might be up. I can’t imagine I’d lose my internship without any proof of us being together. We haven’t even…”
She trails off, but I finish the sentence for her in my own mind.
Fucked.
We haven’t even fucked, unfortunately.
“That would be so fucking unfair,” I say.
“I know, right.”
She laughs, nervously, but I’m glad to hear it. Then she’s back to pacing and running her hands through her hair.
“But if it’s not that, then what else could it be?”
