Page 11 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
Well, maybe not all my one-to-ones have been smooth sailing. I keep kicking myself for how things went with Marcy. Keith being a jackass aside, I overstepped with my near-threatening position I took with him. I let my body language and tone intimidate the space, and that’s not the side of me I want anyone to see, but especially Marcy. The bigger problem here is that even in my embarrassment for how the meeting went, I would have made the same mistake again if given the chance. I had this over-powering feeling of wanting to protect her in that moment. It was a frightening and foreign, if I am being honest with myself.
I need to make an appointment with my therapist.
There is something about Marcy. She’s gorgeous, that’s easy to identify. I don’t have a type per se, I just love women, but shemakes it difficult for me to focus. That has never been a problem for me before. I found myself strolling through the emergency department this week with no reason at all, just hoping to hear her voice or catch a glimpse of her. When I lucked out, I got to listen to her compassion and empathy with her patients shine through. In our meeting today, she had great insight, and the nerves were surprisingly endearing. She’s clearly someone who is being under-utilized in the setting, and I’m looking forward to helping her position grow.
Then I had to make that comment about pleasure.Cringe, as the kids would say. It’s like I couldn’t contain the flirt with her. That’s not a new problem for me either, but not keeping my cool with CEO is new for sure. I can’t stand witnessing someone being talked down too, bullied even, and I got triggered by Keith’s tone with Marcy. My nervous system was back in the kitchen of my teens, with my parents making sure I knew how disappointed they were in me. Making sure I felt small. I couldn’t leave it alone.
As I sit here at the local bar down the street from my hotel, I’m mulling over making amends with Keith and my next moves for North River. Primarily though, I’m lost in those pretty purple lights behind the bar, mulling over my situation with Marcy.
My history with women is plentiful but not exactly love story worthy. My romantic experience has extended to first and second dates with the end goal of getting laid. I make sure my partners are fully aware of my intentions, of course, I’m not an asshole. I don’t think so, anyway.
Lately that nagging “lacking” feeling has impeded my ability to be casual anymore, though. I also fear I don’t know how to be more than that; unsure how to take attraction, lust, and flirtation, and make something real. Keeping my love life strictly a sex life has helped me avoid the pain of rejection, a feeling I am painfully familiar with. But what do I do now that I want more?
Complicating matters further, Marcy and I have a murky situation in the employee relations sense of things. I have some power over her role, not that she has anything to worry about in that regard, she’s a stellar employee. There is also the fact that I am only guaranteed to be here for a few months. How can I offer her more when I don’t know where I am living by the spring?
Offer her? You haven’t had a date with her!
I need to get a grip.
All these thoughts are whirling through my mind as I sit alone at a small table hidden in the corner of this local bar. It’s a bit nicer than the typical dive that I like to find in these communities, but the crowd feels much the same. The tone is friendly and familiar, with classic rock playing through the sound system and a healthy mix of men and women throughout the place. That’s when I notice her, the friendly nurse with the blonde hair who is friends with Marcy. She is sitting at the bar, facing my direction, and across from her is the woman with wild, dark, curls and green eyes that I can’t get off my mind. Granted, there aren’t a ton of options for a late-night drink in this town, but it still feels like I almost willed her here with the consistency of her on my mind.
They haven’t noticed me in this shadowy back corner and are animatedly laughing and chatting with each other. Conveniently, I have had my few beers and am ready to head back to the hotel. A quick hello couldn’t hurt, right?
Play it cool.
As I approach the women at the bar, I can tell when Annie recognizes me, as her eyes claim a bit of mischief and she says something quickly to Marcy. Marcy spins, in that slow motion of the movies, to look my direction and I get a hint of…is that intrigue? I guess I don’t look like my work-self in these clothes, but neither does she. She traded her loose sweaters and leggings for a fitted black t-shirt and jeans, basically the same outfit Ihave on but in the sexy, feminine, version. The firm top of her breasts is peeking out just enough above the V in her shirt, with her soft curls resting just above them. Her jeans sit tightly on her generous hips, and she has some simple gold hoops in her ears. She is flawless, and her whole aura is so much more relaxed here. I want more of whatever it is that radiates off her.
She is staring at me; a bit longer than I would anticipate. I might be flexing my arms; I know women like my tattoos. I need to grow up.
“Hi Marcy, Annie.” They both nod at me and it seems like Annie is waiting for Marcy to say something. It never happens. Is she blushing?
“Nick, good to see you! On the way out?” Annie finally says.
“Uh, yeah, I just wanted to say hello before I call it a night. You ladies looked like you were having a good time, so I don’t want to interrupt.” Marcy is still staring at me, but I can’t tell if she is annoyed or checking me out. Maybe annoyed that she’s checking me out?
“You aren’t interrupting at all; we have been having a great time. We were just talking about…Marcy’s car. She was explaining to me why it doesn’t work.” Annie says in such a way that indicates she is clearly lying for some reason.
“Yeah,” Marcy finally responds, “My car has a busted oil pan or something, so I haven’t been driving it. That’s why I ride my bike.”
“You do know that winter is coming, right?” I ask.
“Who are you, Ned Stark?” She gives me a little smirk and I am such a goner.
“I like to think I am more of a Jon Snow.” I reply without missing a beat and she lets out a genuine laugh that sends shock waves straight to my dick. I need more of that. “I know a thing or two about cars if you would like me to take a look. I would behappy to help.” This is just a friendly offer, I tell myself. Not at all trying to impress her.
“That is so nice of you Nick,” Annie is giving Marcy one of those awkward, pushing, stares without any discretion whatsoever.
“Yeah Nick, that is really nice, but I have it under control.” Marcy counters, with an equally pressing glare back at her friend. I take the hint and back off a bit.
“Well, keep me posted if you change your mind. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I smile and start to pass them, and then I can’t help myself as I do a quick bend, bringing my mouth close to Marcy’s ear and whisper, “looking forward to more of our time together.” I inhale the incredible scent of her, that vanilla, coconut, and probably just a nice body wash but my god, a new preoccupation is unlocked. I continue on my way out the door of the bar and across the street toward my hotel, I don’t look back because if she isn’t watching me leave, I may not be able to handle it.
I kick myself for taking that risk and flirting with her again, but she was blushing enough throughout that encounter to tell me she isn’t not interested. If this were old Nick, I would have turned on the charm, flexed my tattoos (more), gotten her number, and called it a night, but I can’t play that game this time. There’s something about her and I can’t let old habits get in my way. I can slowly but surely show my cards and just hope she gives me the time of day.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Marcy
It has been nearly a week since I last got drinks with Annie and my (minor) fixation on Nick started to blossom.Looking forward to more of our time together. That’s what he whispered in my ear to send a warm shiver down my spine and heated me enough to not need that winter coat on the walk home. I am either anxiously fixated on that moment, or this is a real crush.
