Page 22 of King of Players

And if that was the norm, then what was wrong with me?

Halfway through lunch, I broke my own rule and pulled the phone out of my pocket, searching in panic for Marvin’s number. I couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped my lungs when I found it, launching the text window and typing; Good afternoon, Dr. Rogers. It’s Kaira Bradley. Long time! How about a catch-up session? Do you happen to have a free slot today?

I let the message float in the cosmos while I continued to soldier through my lunch, sans appetite. The chaos of new and old feelings colliding; the collision between what was right and what felt amazing. Everything I was feeling in my head and body was a sure sign that I needed the therapist that my grandmother had hired for me when I had lost my parents in the car crash many moons ago.

Once again, I sought grounding and a logical approach to untangle my thoughts and reclaim my peace.

Mindlessly in attendance—but not genuine in presence—of my last meeting for the day, I caught a blink on my phone and immediately grabbed it. Marvin had responded to my message by informing me that he would be waiting for me at seven o’clock in his office.

Same address. Same décor. A twenty-nine-year-old Kaira with an entirely new problem to solve.

“I made a mistake. By my measure, it’s a mistake.” That was how I started the session. “I slept with a man I don’t know. And generally, I wouldn’t even be interested in knowing him.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Interested to know him?”

“No.” But then I paused. I didn’t want to know Chad, did I? My curiosity with regards to how I had reacted to him was the reason behind me being here. Right?

“You’re contemplating your answer in retrospect, aren’t you?” Marvin insightfully asked.

Slowly nodding, I knew I had to explain. “Marvin… I’m finding it a little strange to talk about this with you.”

“That’s fine,” he said in a soothing voice. “Take a minute.”

“I—He’s not the type of man I’d usually date.”

“But there must be an explanation as to why you wanted to sleep with him.”

“I didn’t. It—It just happened.”

“But right before it happened.” Leaning forward, he pinched his fingers together and narrowed his eyes. “The moment when you made the decision—conscious or unconscious—to jump in. How about we try to go back to that? Isolate it and look at it, as if under the microscope?”

I sighed, somehow feeling the weight of going back to face the shame that the memory cast within me. “Well, I’d been drinking.”

“How much?”

I shrugged. “A couple of glasses of wine?”

“We can’t blame that, can we?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I leaned back in my seat. “No. No, we can’t.”

“Good. What else?”

“It was dark by my pool. The only light came from the spotlights underwater.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“He came over. I didn’t move. He kissed me first.” I paused. “And I let him.”

Marvin nodded, an invitation for me to carry on. “I think that was the moment.”

“So, up until that moment… you had never kissed a man without a decision to sleep with him.”

“I never kissed a man without knowing him to some extent,” I explained. “Without seeing something there, and the intention to create a bond somehow.”

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