Kenny
Myfeetjiggleimpatientlyagainst the floor. Sandra, my lovely, patient therapist, peers over her half-moon glasses. Sighing, I slump back down onto the couch. Crossing my arms, I blow out a breath and stare at the ceiling.
“So,” she says finally. “You’re feeling more connected to your mates. That’s really good progress, Kennedy.”
My small huff escapes without my permission. “Sorry.”
“What is it about them that’s bothering you?”
“Nothing. They’re… they’re doing everything theyneedto do.”
“I sense abut.”
“But,” I say quietly. “We’re not doing everything I’dliketo do.”
Only Theo wears my bite. And I don’t wear… any of theirs. It’s starting to feel unfair. “They’re waiting for me to make a move. To show them, Doc. That I’m … okay. And I don’t know how to do that.”
I don’t even know if I am. “IthinkI am. But how do I know that I’m really ready?”
“What happened to you was incredibly traumatic.” Sandra makes a note in her pad. “Taking things slowly is the right approach. Are they pushing you in any way?”
“No.” I almost grumble it. “It’s almost like they don’twantme. But… I told them I wanted to wait for my heat. I want us all to be on the same page. Completely focused on each other.”
But I wouldn’t mind feeling just alittlebit desirable. Less like a pile of blankets that needs feeding regularly. “Maybe I should just go for it. Abrams said that my stats are healthy. You know what that means.”
“Do you mean your heat?”
My face flushes. “Yes. I know it’s coming. Maybe even soon. And I don’t want to have a panic attack in the middle of it. Not for my first time.”
And thisismy first time. Brett… he doesn’t count. Not like this.
I repeat the words to myself.He. Does. Not. Count.“I want my heat to be aboutus. All of us, coming together for the first time and everyone being on the same page. He doesn’t get a say in that. He doesn’t get to come through that door and ruin it for us.”
He’s takenenough.
“You’ve faced some difficult issues over the last few months. Do you remember what we said about the body, versus the mind?”
I breathe in. “My mind might be able to tell the difference between them and… and him. But my body might not.”
“That’s right,” she says gently. “The body remembers far more than we realize. Your personal sexual landscape has irrevocably shifted, and now it’s for you to learn that new landscape. But bullying yourself into sex sooner than you’re ready for as a form of aversion therapy is unlikely to help you feel reassured and safe in the moment. Possibly the opposite, and you’ll find yourself further away from your goal than when you started.”
“And how do I start? Where does this landscape begin?”
“Where all things start and end,” she says airily. Her smile grows when I glance at her, askance. “With yourself, Kennedy. Learn your own body, and you may find the rest easier to follow. Don’t be afraid to play. You might want to wait for your heat, but that doesn’t mean you can’t build up your comfort levels in the meantime. Take a little look under the hood, so to speak.”
My face flushes scarlet. “I can do that.”
***
This mirror feels as though it’s mocking me. I glance at the bed again, debating.
“Okay.” I pull off my hoodie – well, Jake’s hoodie. My jeans. My underwear.
Swallowing, I glance at the closed door. The window. Anywhere but my own reflection.
“It starts with me,” I repeat. “Don’t be such a chicken shit, Kennedy.”
My own personal pep talk. A little unorthodox, perhaps. But I take a deep breath, my eyes sliding to mine in the mirror. And then…down.
