Page 8 of Love Out Loud

Prickles of irritation danced up and down her spine. “I’m calling BS.” Her strong tone surprised her. She was opinionated and outspoken with her close friends but never pushed her views or opinions on people she didn’t know, like this guy. For some reason, though, he made her agitated, and her very thick, very comfortable shell cracked a little bit.

“Why?”

She waved a hand as if swatting a bug. “Doesn’t matter.”

This time, he did touch her. Just briefly on the shoulder to get her attention—like he didn’t have it already. “It matters to me.”

Darn it, this sucked. She liked it better when he was being didactic and bloviating about what was best for her. She was used to that from guys, not this “it matters to me” stuff. She wound her fingers in her lap and stared at her short, unpainted fingernails.

Instead of filling in the quiet with chatter, like most people, he waited patiently, not fidgeting. She liked that about him. She didn’t like group sessions, though, and she found herself wanting to tell him why. It was odd to find someone other than Jane and Caitlin she wanted to talk to. She shook her head, realizing how pitiful that seemed. She wasn’t lonely. She wasn’t sad. She just preferred a limited number of deep relationships over numerous shallow ones. That was her rule number three: She didn’t do casual. It’s why dating had never really worked out for her. Guys ran away from deep—at least the guys she’d dated had.

Still staring at her hands, she took a cleansing breath. “Immersion therapy does not work—at least not for me. My parents were both shrinks and forced me into social situations my entire childhood, thinking it would ‘fix’ me. This”—she indicated the circle of empty chairs—“is not helpful for me. You’re supposed to be a speech coach, not a therapist.”

“I’m not a therapist in any way,” he said. “I ready people for public speaking jobs and events. Period. What I’ve found, though, is groups, like this one and Toastmasters, instill confidence and make the speaking event easier and, oftentimes, more fun. Have you ever been to a Toastmasters’ meeting?”

“Absolutely not. I’d rather repeatedly slam my head in a door.” Okay, well, that was unnecessarily dramatic. She stood and ran her hands through her hair, which was almost dry now. “How would you feel if you were put in a situation that makes you uncomfortable, purportedly for your own good, knowing no possible benefit would come of it?”

She could feel his eyes on her as he spoke. “I’d be grateful and happy that someone was trying to help me.”

The smug jerk.“You think so?”

“Of course.”

“You honestly believe that if you were immersed in a situation that made you uncomfortable and anxious, you’d be grateful and happy?” she repeated.

“Absolutely.”

“Wanna put money on it?”

He raised an eyebrow. A perfect, calm eyebrow. “Yes.”

---