Page 54 of Devoted

Fun times.

I took some deep breaths, repeating statements to calm myself.

You shook hands with Jude.

Jude is a safe person.

You’ve literally had sex with him before.

You were exposed to more germs walking down the street than when you shook hands.

He would’ve thought it was weird if you hadn’t offered to shake hands.

He would’ve hugged you instead, which you didn’t want to do.

No, I hadn’t wanted to hug him, because some fucked up part of my brain felt like that would be disloyal to Zeke. A man I’d never actually met.

My phone was burning a hole in my pocket, but I didn’t pull it out. It was bad enough that I was going to have to clean the various parts of the car that I’d touched with an antibac wipe, I didn’t want to have to do my phone too.

The message I knew I had from Zeke would have to wait. I’d been about to respond to him when I’d had a panicked phone call from Jude. He’d been mid-argument with someone at the post office about what to put on a customs form.

Given how many parcels I sent each week, Jude had begged me to help him. When trying to explain it over the phone had failed, I’d chucked on whatever clothes came to hand and raced down to assist him.

He’d made a couple of comments that had made me think he’d be very happy to go back to my place for some afternoon delight. Despite having considered that very thing yesterday, after the call with Zeke last night, there was no way that was happening. That was why I’d shaken his hand—I’d wanted to make it obvious that we wouldn’t be going there again.

Jude had taken it in his stride, as he did everything. That knowledge hadn’t stopped my OCD being triggered.

‘He didn’t want you in the first place.’

‘He’s laughing at you now for thinking that.’

‘He’s heartbroken. He’s going to harm himself because you didn’t sleep with him.’

I turned the engine on while cursing under my breath. See, my brain couldn’t even agree with itself. It’d pick at anything until it found the thread that’d make me bite.

Fighting the urge to pull out my phone and call Jude to make sure he was okay, I checked my rearview mirror and did a double take. Was that Zeke?

The man, who could’ve been Zeke’s double, was standing outside the art gallery, staring intently as though he was meeting my gaze in the mirror. I blinked, and he’d vanished.

‘Great, you’ve levelled up to hallucinations.’

‘Maybe it’s a brain tumour.’

I shook my head. Fuck, I wished I’d stayed in bed as I’d planned.

Several hours later, my bed was exactly where I was. Knowing I had some tasks outstanding, my brain hadn’t allowed me to take the whole day off. None of my clients would’ve been upset about waiting until tomorrow, but I would have been.

When I climbed back into my pyjamas and into bed, I took my laptop with me. Working there, cocooned by my blankets withFriendsplaying on the TV, I finally started to feel the grip of my OCD loosen.

It hadn’t gone entirely—it never did—but this low-level hum of anxiety was much easier to deal with. With every hour that ticked past without hearing from Zeke, all the hard work I’d put into calming myself down was being eroded.

I checked my phone for the millionth time, rereading my messages.

Sam

sorry I didn’t respond earlier, ended up having to run an errand

how’s your day going?

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