You’re incorrigible.
You’re still texting me.
Unknown Number
Unfortunately.
Keep lying to yourself, sweetheart. I can take it.
Unknown Number
Don’t forget to bring pie. I’ll need the sugar rush to tolerate you.
You sure you don’t just want me?
Unknown Number
That’d require you to stop talking.
Never gonna happen.
The dots appear again, lingering this time, like she’s fighting a smile she doesn’t want me to see. I can almost feel the invisible thread pulling tight between us. I stare at her last message until the screen fades, a stupid grin spreading slowly across my face. There’s something about her—quick-witted, sharp-edged, impossible to read—that makes everything else fade into the background.
Every word feels like a hit of adrenaline. Each reply lands somewhere deeper than it should. She doesn’t know me, but somehow, she’s already cracked something open I didn’t realize was closed. Before I can overthink it, I tap her number and add it to my contacts:Lightning Girl.
Because that’s what she is. Fast, bright, and dangerous in a way that makes me want to lean closer anyway.
And if I’m not careful, she might just burn me alive.
Therapy Session
Kyle
The clock on the wall ticks too loudly. I know it isn’t that loud, but it burrows into my skull anyway, each second a little jab.The office is warm in that overly inviting way I can’t stand, softer than I like, with framed prints of ocean waves and a plant in the corner that somehow looks healthier than I feel. The couch I am sitting on is too comfortable. It keeps trying to swallow me whole.
It is ridiculous that the last place I felt steady today was an elevator withherin it. Everything afterward felt too soft, too slow, like my body had not yet caught up.
Dr. Shah is sitting across from me, waiting. She’s good at that. Not staring or pushing, just sitting in her chair with a notepad on her lap and the kind of calm that makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
“You’re very interested in that clock today,” she says eventually.
I drag my gaze down from the wall and force a shrug. “Just making sure time still moves in here.”
“Does it feel like it doesn’t?”
“Didn’t slow down earlier,” I mutter, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Not when she…” Heat crawls up my neck, and I bite the rest back. “Never mind.”
Dr. Shah tilts her head a fraction. “When she…?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” I scrub a palm over my jaw, like I can wipe the slip away.
“You have used that line before.”
“It was a good line,” I say, relieved she lets me back away but doesn’t pretend she didn't notice.
“It was a deflection,” she replies calmly. “How are you, Kyle?”
“Fine.” My knee starts bouncing. “Better than fine. Living the dream. I am in the NHL. My brothers are all in one place. Momma is happy. Coach, also known as my big brother, is only a little pissed at me. Ten out of ten, really.”
