Page 113 of The Perfect Love

The only response I managed to their texts last night was to reiterate that I’m sorry to miss the party, and tell Bridget I wish her the best birthday. Neither of them responded.

Fine by me. Amanda, Rae, Hyla, and the rest of the girls have shown me what true friendship means, and I refuse to settle for less. I don’t intend to cut Bridget and Lex out of my life, but I won’t keep trying to maintain a friendship with them that only hurts me.

Especially not when I have so much good in my life.

I’m enjoying school, I love Old Lake Town, I’m making great friends, and of course, there’s Trevor.

Trevor, who has spent every night at my apartment since Thursday, when I gave him that toy. The orgasms since then have been countless, and with each one, I let him explore a little more. I haven’t let him touch between my legs yet, but I’ll get there. I’ve gotten more comfortable touching him, too.

I’m just… happy. I like the direction my life is headed in, and I’m hopeful in a way I’d forgotten how to be for a while.

After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I finish working on some social media graphics and then go to the document of outreach ideas and start reading through it. I only have about an hour left here, then—for once—I plan to spend most of the day alone. I’ll probably have dinner with Robbie, but Trevor and I agreed it’s best for him to not spendeverynight at my apartment. As fun as it is, we want this to keep growing naturally and not lose important pieces of ourselves along the way.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone on the camera—a girl around my age—at the front door. She pushes the button that goes to our security office, then the front door buzzes open. The outside door is locked for safety, and the security guards are the ones who unlock the door after someone pushes the doorbell outside.

Once they come in, there’s a small entrance area before the glass door that opens into the reception area of Promise. I glance at the other screen and watch the girl hover by the door for a minute.

There’s a swish of nerves in my stomach. This is my first time being out front alone when someone has come in, and even though I’ve done this with Rae or Kristen or one of the counselors by my side, I’m still nervous. I want to get this right.

I suck in a breath and look back at the screen. She’s still standing there, uncertain. I debate getting up and going over to the door, but as someone who has been through it, I know it’s a decision she has to make for herself. If she’s not ready yet, that’s okay. We’ll be here when she is.

She looks back at the outer door again, then finally pushes herself forward and opens the glass door. My stomach twists with anticipation and anxiousness.

When she finally steps all the way inside, I stand.

Her eyes dart to me and she swallows hard.

“Hi. I’m Chelsea.”

She looks around the space, and I slowly make my way around the counter.

“Do you want to tell me why you came in here today?” I ask, my voice calm despite my insides roiling. But there’s something inside me propelling me forward. An innate protective instinct. I want to help. I want her to know she’s safe.

She bites her lip and tears well in her eyes.

“Let’s sit.” I gesture toward a small table in the corner, and she follows me over to it.

I grab a cup of water from the nearby cooler and set it on the table, which already has a box of tissues on it.

“Do you want to tell me your name?”

“Chloe.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Chloe. If you want to talk, we can, or we can just sit. Either way, I want you to know you’re safe.” My voice almost breaks, but I keep it together.

There’s a phone on the table in case I need to call one of the counselors out, though I’m sure one is monitoring the camerafeed for this room. It’s how they know if someone else needs to come out here, and if no one else is, it’s how they keep an eye on the interns. We go through some online training before we start here, but overall, we’re tossed in the deep end. I think that’s mostly because we’ve been there and we’re all studying counseling, so we have a frame of reference. A lot of this job is learning as we go, and as our counseling coursework picks up, we’ll sit in with the counselors more.

Out front, the job is to calm, diffuse, make sure they know it’s a safe space, and offer options.

“I need help,” she finally says.

“Then you’re in the right place. If you want to tell me more, I can direct you to the right help.”

Tears slip down her cheeks.

“I—I—my tutor…” That’s all she gets out before choking back a sob.

Watching for her reaction, I rest my hand on her arm. When she doesn’t flinch, I let the weight of my palm settle there.

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