Page 7 of Playing with Fyre

“Third time lucky,” he says with a half-shrug. “Is there a reason why you lied about which apartment block you live in?”

I manage a mute shake of my head. His eyes flicker past me, as if he’s waiting for me to invite him inside. Instead, I push out another, “But how did you know which room—”

“You’re the only Ash on the intercom system,” he says.

When my shocked expression doesn’t change, he adds, “I’m your therapist. I do happen to know your surname.”

“B-But the buzzer didn’t…” I trail off because I don’t know why I keep trying to challenge the logic of this situation.

“A very kind lady let me in, but only after she made sure I didn’t know anything about her missing cat.”

“Mrs. Crawford let you in?” My head’s swimming and I have a feeling it’s to do with Fyre’s frank, unblinking stare.

“You left in quite a rush,” he says, mildly admonishing me with his gorgeous eyes. Then he holds up a brown paper bag printed with the name of the diner we were both just at. “Cheeseburger okay?”

* * *

I don’t knowhow I feel about Professor Fyre sitting on my couch. Hell, I don’t even know how I feel about eating in front of him. Especially since I’m starving, and goddamnit this cheeseburger is so fucking delicious. I try to restrain myself, but then I lose concentration after a bite or two and realize I’m devouring my food like my last meal was a pretzel I ate seven weeks ago.

“Damn, she wasn’t kidding—they do make good burgers,” Fyre says.

I’ve been avoiding looking in his direction as much as possible, but this has me intrigued. “She?” I ask through a mouthful of burger patty and cheese.

“Sally, my patient.” Fyre stares at the window opposite us as he pops a fry into his mouth, and then glances over at me. “My session with her ran late tonight, and she recommended this place to me when I left. Guess she heard my stomach grumbling.” His laugh is the warmest, richest sound I’ve ever heard.

How does he do it? How can this man add such vivacity to my dark, colorless world with just one laugh?

“Their burgers kick ass,” I agree with a nod, “but they make a mean pizza too.”

He smiles around another fry, and then his expression turns serious. “I’m concerned about you, Charlotte.”

My food gets stuck in my throat. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t budge. Snatching up my soda, I suck down a sweet sip. “What? Why?”

“You’re acting irrationally.” He glances at my cracked phone where I left it on the coffee table.

Because I ran out so fast, I left him holding my phone. Now what the hell am I supposed to say? Oh, it’s nothing, Professor Fyre. I’m just hopelessly in love with you, is all. Nothing but a silly crush, I’m sure, but it makes me do stupid, stupid things.

“I got claustrophobic,” I lie, not making eye contact. “I had to get out, and then I thought I was going to be sick, so I ran home.”

Worst. Excuse. Ever.

“Shit,” Fyre says, cocking his head to the side. “This claustrophobia, is it new?”

My stomach plunges to my feet. I look away, my hands tightening around the soda can. “No. I mean, I’ve had it for a few months.”

That’s not a lie. I do get claustrophobic when I’m in confined spaces, but not when I’m surrounded by people. I actually kind of feel safe when there are other people around. Which is weird, because I’m always looking forward to being alone.

My head is a messed up place lately.

“Claustrophobia can be treated with exposure therapy,” Fyre says, his intelligent eyes locking onto me. I’m swept up, incapable of looking away as he puts down his container and shifts forward on his seat. “Is it something you’d be open to?”

“What is it?”

He smiles faintly. “Exactly what the name suggests. Your therapist would expose you to various levels of confinement—in a safe space, of course—which would gradually help you overcome the source of your anxiety.”

I shake my head, just the thought making my throat close up.

Fyre chuckles. “I agree. It’s not for everyone. But sometimes, exposure therapy is the only way to tackle a debilitating anxiety.” He glances around my apartment. “Could you point me in the direction of your bathroom?”

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