Page 30 of Chemistry: The Chemist

Always in my fucking space.

“Hi.”

She had my undivided attention. Her nipples hardened against me. I could feel them as she laid her arms on my shoulders. Her closeness was bothersome, yet, I wanted her nowhere else. In front of me, on me, was right where she needed to be.

“Hello, Eden.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“Choosing not to.”

Silence fought for relevance. Eden wouldn’t stand for it. Within seconds, she was speaking again.

“Black or white.”

“Black.”

“Coffee or tea.”

“Coffee.”

“Basketball or football?”

“Golf.”

“Air or sea.”

“Sea.”

“Sea?”

“I have arms and legs. I don’t have wings.”

“Fair enough.”

“Breakfast or lunch?”

“Dinner.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“It works how I say it works.”

“A man that loves having his way,” she concluded.

“It’s the only way.”

“Why me?”

Her curiosity wasn’t becoming. I hated it. For now, at least.

“Too many questions, Eden.”

“Then stop me. Tell me things and I’ll stop asking.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

I gnawed the skin of my bottom lip. If she kept at it, I would spill. That’s what the fuck I couldn’t fathom. Rather was the only one. She was my therapist. I didn’t need Eden poking around my brain, too.

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