Page 6 of Twisted Therapist

USE YOUR TONGUE

IVY

“Sorry, I had a call,” I said, closing the door behind me. I looked at the comfortable pale blue couch and sat in the middle.

It had been two weeks since we started therapy sessions. By we, I mean, me and Aiden or as I liked to call him—Doctor Aiden, during the sessions. His clinic was not at all I had imagined. It was minimalist and cozy, with his certificates and various awards lined on the wall behind his desk. The bookshelf comprised a fewer books and antiques and craft pieces his patients had gifted him. There was a coffee table between the two couches that faced each other that always had sweets, savory snacks, tissues and a candle.

His obsidian dark eyes kept looking at me through the thin framed glasses that should not make him more attractive than he already was. But they did. It was unfair how deliciously hot he looked in them. It made me want to lean closer and take away his glasses to see what he would do. His hair was sleeked back, his stubble neatly trimmed over his sharp jaw. A crisp grey shirt stretched over his broad shoulders with sleeves rolled over his forearms and the veins on his arms shifting ever so slightly when he wrote something in his diary.

I licked my dry lips.

The cursed frame glasses perched on his strong pointed nose, his soft lips in a thin line, making him look like the main cast of a high school porn video. Worse thing was that I could imagine him as a stern hot teacher, punishing student over his lap—

My mental pornography starring the man across from me came to a halt when he said, “Whose call was it?”

Smoothening my hand over my flowy white skirt, I lied. “Oh, i-it was nothing important.”

Aiden’s eyes narrowed, my eyes fixed on his hands. His long fingers closing the diary as he stood up from the chair behind his desk and strode towards the small couch across me. His movements were graceful, confident.

If I tried walking without looking at the floor like that, I would get my shoe stuck on the rug and trip.

“You are still a terrible liar, little Petal,” he said in his smooth voice, his legs widening when he sat down. A spectacular image of a composed gentleman, a notepad on his thigh with a pen.

I was a terrible person to be jealous of that notepad.

“I am not little anymore,” I argued weakly.

I felt little and small compared tohim. It wasn’t because he was tall or more than a decade older than me. It was something else entirely that gave me the shivers and my heart rate increase. The way he presented himself and the surrounding air, always charged with something that made me intimidated by him ever since I met him.

“I am twenty-one now.” I said, raising my chin a little. “I am a big girl.”

Aiden smiled, as if he knew how little I felt around him. That my age had nothing to do with it. He shifted, crossing his leg, his shiny black shoes gleaming in the light of his office.

I swallowed the lump in my throat when he peered over his glasses and said, “We will talk about that call at the end. Tell me about your day.”

I started, much more relaxed, since the first day. I was frozen and tensed at the start of the first session, but Aiden was wonderful. Listening to me, his expression was impassive yet soothing me to say it all out loud. About how I truly felt when mom left, the emotional detachment from my father, how lonely I felt when Hayden had to leave for his studies and then work. How I was bullied and awkward when it came to making new friends. How different Jason had made me feel.

The corners of his mouth twitched whenever I mentioned Jason, my ex-boyfriend, as if he had some sort of dislike towards him. I knew that expression well because he made that same face whenever we had seafood.He hates seafood. Does that mean he hates Jason too?

“And how do you feel now?” He asked, removing his glasses and pinning his eyes on me.

I blinked, not knowing how to put it into words. So, I stuck with, “Better. Much better than how I was when I broke up with Jason.”

His lips twitched again. “Hm, have you been doing your assignments?”

Assignments comprised little daily puzzles, and affirmations which he had asked me to do every day. Especially after ending each session to know my emotions better. I cherished his secret smiles when he would find me doing them at the kitchen island after our dinner. I secretly did it for his smile. Wanting to please him. I enjoyed doing them, reflecting on myself and figuring out what I wanted with introspection little by little each day. It gave me more clarity and assurance and acceptance of who I was as a person. I also enjoyed pleasing Aiden, making him smile because of me.

“Yes, sir,” I said, beaming proudly at him.

My heart stuttered when his eyes flickered to me, a dark gleam in them after hearing my reply. I scrambled my thoughts, wondering if I had said anything wrong. I didn’t want to disappoint him by saying something wrong—but then again, he knew all the good and ugly parts about me in just a few days.

“Good,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Before we end this session, I want to ask you about that phone call.”

The tone of his voice had changed. He wasn’t being a professional therapist anymore, he was being my brother’s best-friend. A concerned brother’s best-friend.

I hated it. Because I knew despite of how much infatuated I was with him, all he could see was his friend’s silly little sister. Never anything else.

Clenching my hands, I said, “It’s none of your business, Aiden.”

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