And while I’m about as far removed from my engineering career as possible, I still feel like I have a leg up after working in that field for so long.
I’m scowling at one of the youths—one that happens to be chewing on the end of his pen and playing Candy Crush on hisphone—when Dr. Torres says my name as though it’s not the first time she’s said it.
“Ms. Russell, is everything alright?” Her face displays her disappointment so perfectly, I feel like my view right now should be framed and hung up next to theMona Lisa.
Clearing my throat, I answer her, knowing she won’t let me off the hook. “Sorry, Dr. Torres. I might just need to…” I awkwardly gather up all of my things as everyone in the room watches me and move to a front-row seat. There, now nothing can distract me from her lecture.
She nods once, her reading glasses sliding a fraction of an inch down her nose. “Very well. As I was saying, this course will be a continuation of what you learned last semester in Techniques of Psychotherapy. Completion of this course, as well as the other core courses you are taking this semester, will allow you to select a specialization. It is my hope to see many of you in the Marriage and Family Therapy cohort in the fall”—No, thank you!Especially since sex therapy falls into that department and is taught by none other than Elaine Bardot—“but I understand that some of you have your sights set on other paths. Perhaps you’ll join Dr. Frank over in sports psychology or Dr. Daly in forensic psychology…”
Dr. Torres keeps talking but my mind starts to race because forensic psychology is what I want, and I cannot wait until our coursework becomes more specialized.
I think they might have to sedate me when we actually get to go into the field. Not that there’s a lot of forensic activity happening in Sassafras, but I’ve heard we are able to partner with the Boston legal system as they work on cases. After the master’s degree, I’ll go on to get my doctorate meaning I’ll be in academia for the foreseeable future, and honestly?
I can’t fucking wait.
School has always been the place where I can succeed. Where I can make sense of the world around me. Where I can be a little weird… a little intense, and it’s agoodthing.
I’ve just got to make it through this semester of core work, then I get to do the really cool shit.
An hour later, I’m walking back to my apartment when I spot him. He’s standing outside of The Coffee Shop with his brothers, and the only thing running through my mind isWhat the fuck is he doing here?
Before I can stop myself, I beeline toward him to ask him that exact question.
“Benjamin!” Three sets of chocolate-brown eyes swing my way. “What the fuck are you doing here? Why are you still in Sassafras?”
The holidays are over, he should be back in Boston by now. This feels like some sort of personal attack. Like when your leg falls asleep and it feels like needles poking into the sole of your foot every time you take a step. It’s your body betraying you, and right now it feels like my eyes must be betraying me. Because he matches my intensity, staring right back with a self-satisfied smirk.
And then he drops a bomb.
“I live here, Red.”
“No.” My immediate response is denial… which vaguely I register to be the first stage of grief. No, he cannot live here. He has to live away from here, where I won’t run into him like this… just out! On the street! In broad daylight!
“Yes,” he retorts, just as quickly.
“No!” I reply, stomping my foot. “We can’t both live here! It… It—” I wave my arms around looking for the right words. “It won’t work!”
Behind Ben, Gabe leans over to Jules and stage whispers, “This is feeling very ‘This town ain’t big enough for the both of us!’”
My arm stretches out, pointing at Gabe. “Yes! What he said.”
“You can’t claim an entire town, Colette.” Ben raises his brow, crossing his stupidly buff arms across his chest. To him this is a proverbial checkmate, but I’ve now entered the anger stage of grief.
As predatorial as I can make it, I take a slow step toward him. “Yes, I can,” I seethe. “You weren’t supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be able to live my life without worrying about your stupid, pretty face scaring me every time I turn a corner.”
He places a hand on his chest in mock flattery. “You think my face is pretty?” Said face leans closer to me, so close that his breath coasts across my ear when he says, “I’m flattered, Red.”
I can feel my face scrunching up. Feel the heat radiating from my cheeks. I know that if I looked at myself in the mirror right now, I would be the human equivalent of Anger in theInside Outmovies.
So I change tactics.
Taking a deep breath, I let my hand come up to rest on his crossed forearms. “Benjamin, Benjamin, Benjamin… What are we going to do?” My finger lazily traces back and forth across the veins lining his arm. When I look into his eyes, I see that he’s affected. He’s zeroed in on my movements, a combination of amusement and something else, dancing across his features.
“Surely we can figure out a solution,” I continue. “You get a day, I get a day type of thing? Maybe stay away from the university and we can make that work.”
It’s actually an insane suggestion, something that is confirmed when Jules mutters, “This is psychological warfare,” under his breath. He says tomato, I say I’ve entered the bargaining stage.Will it work?is the question.
Per usual, Ben quickly shuts down all my hopes. “No can do. Would hate for you to miss out on this pretty face. I know it’s been rough only seeing me in your dreams.”
