Page 22 of Waking Olivia

“Well, then we can talk about why you don't want to be here."

"Because I've done this before. It just doesn't work."

"Not all therapists are the same," she says, eyes brightening. "Maybe your last one just wasn't a good fit."

"No, I mean that I don't think it works for anyone," I reply. "Did you know psychiatrists commit suicide more than any other profession?"

Her mouth twitches again. "I don't think that's true."

"Look it up."

"I don't need to look it up, Olivia," she says, growing flushed. "This session is for you to talk about your feelings."

"My feeling is that you're scared to look it up.” I almost feel sorry for her, but not quite. If she wants to position herself as the expert, then she should freaking be an expert.

She glances at the wall behind me. No doubt she has a clock there and is trying to gauge exactly how many more minutes this will drag out. And it will drag out, believe me, because I plan to make this every bit as unpleasant for her as it is for me.

It's one of the very few things I'm good at.

18

Will

On Tuesday afternoon, I tell the team that there will be a time trial the next morning. The top three runners will fly to Oregon in early December for the Cooper Invitational. I don't want to look at Olivia's face, but I do,and I regret it. She's scared. I can see it in her eyes. She deserves one of those three spots. Hell, she deserves all of them. She's the best runner this school has seen in a decade, if not more. But that fear I see is only going to feed on itself, ensuring that she runs tonight. I feel powerless as I send her off. I hate the feeling, and I hate that it's probably how she feels almost all of the time.

Jessicaand I have an early dinner. I walk her to her door, but I don't come inside. "You're not staying?" she asks, looking at me beneath long lashes, arching her limber frame so her chest brushes mine. She has the kind of body few men can say “no” to, and she’s well aware of it.

"I'm sorry, I've got to be up early tomorrow." She knows I don't sleep well at her place. It’s nothing personal, but I inevitably wind up sleeping on her couch because I can’t fall asleep next to someone. I’ve never been able to, but that has nothing to do with why I'm not staying tonight.

"I have alarms here, you know," she says, tucking her hand into the waistband of my jeans before she starts to tug at my belt. I place my hand over hers.

"I would love to stay, but you're slightly too distracting, and I've got work to do."

“Work? Will, it's 10 p.m. What work can’t wait until tomorrow?"

And that's the question I can't answer.

There's no way to make what I'm about to do sound reasonable, or ethical. But I think about the possibility of stopping Olivia, and how spectacular she might be at a meet on a full night's rest,and I just don't care.

As I head to Olivia's apartment, I recall a conversation I had with Peter only two weeks ago when he accused me of being too harsh with her. He was right, and I knew he was right which made it hard to defend myself.

"She's just trouble," I told him.

"Trouble for you or trouble for the team?"

“What do you mean? She’s trouble for everyone.”

He shrugged. "She's a very pretty girl.”

"What's that got to do with anything?"

He exhaled heavily. ”I’m just wondering if maybe what worries you so much isn't that she's going to cause problems for the team but that she's going to cause problems for you."

"You cannot be implying what I think you're implying," I snapped. "When have I ever been inappropriate with a student?"

Peter shook his head. "Never. And I'm not implying you would be now. In fact, I know you wouldn't be, which is precisely why it might trouble you so much to have her around. Unnecessary temptation."

I'd shutthe conversation down, dismissed it as ridiculous, but now, as I pull up to her apartment, I have to wonder.Am I pretending?Am I really here because I want to see her succeed, or am I here for another reason? Olivia Finnegan is so pretty that you feel compelled to look at her even when you don’t want to. You want to memorize the delicate structure of her face, her full rosebud mouth, the way her green eyes spark when she looks at you and make you want to uncover all the secrets behind them. So pretty that pretty isn’t even the word for it. It’s something that makes me feel like I can’t breathe on the rare occasions I see her smile.

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