“It’s not, I promise. You said you’re worried about me and I want to show you that you have nothing to worry about.”
Pressing her lips together, she screws up her eyes and studies me.
“Come on, doc. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
“I have two morning sessions I’m making up from when I was sick.” She exhales slowly and shakes her head at herself. “But we could meet up after if that works.”
Yes, I say internally with a mental fist bump.
“I’ll pick you up at your place. Wanna grab lunch before we go?”
“This is starting to sound an awful lot like a date, Mr. Adler,” she teases.
“Please, what kinda guy do you think I am?” I jest, bringing my hand to my chest for impact. “I am simply trying to show mytherapistthat I am of stable body and mind so she doesn’t have to worry about me. If lunch says ‘date’ to you, we can skip lunch.”
“No,” she objects a little too quickly. Trying to recover, she adjusts a piece of her hair and clears her throat. “We can do lunch. I love lunch.”
I can’t help but smile widely at her. “Then it’s a totally-not-date lunch and afternoon outing. I’ll text you when I’m on my way over.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” She smiles back. “AndMiles?” She tips her eyes up to me and when I look at her, she looks like trouble.
“Yeah, doc?”
With a final move of her piece, she sets the plastic circle down with a little more force than necessary and smirks at me proudly from her side of the table.
“I win.”
23
HANNA
What was I thinking telling him I’d go with him today? Have I lost my ever-loving mind? Never.Neverare you supposed to go and hangout with your patients outside of the office. Doing so is a clear break in the professional boundary you’re supposed to have with your patients as a psychiatrist. Yet here I am, dismantling my closet one piece of clothing at a time trying to figure out what to wear. I know he said it isn’t a date but it’s very much feeling like a date. Lunch and a shared activity is usually what people consider a date. Not that I would know on a personal level. I haven’t been on a real date in…I can’t even remember. How embarrassing is that?
My heart is pounding in my chest and I have panic sweat running down my back. Why am I so panicked? It’s only Miles.
But that’s the thing, isn’t it?
It’sMiles.
The man who came to my apartment before Thanksgiving and took care of me when I was sick. Miles, who calls me ‘doc’ even though I know he knows my name. The onlyperson other than my dad I’ve played checkers with since I was a kid because everyone else I asked told me it was childish. The only man who makes my skin feel hot when he gets too close and my glasses fog up when I think about him for too long.
The sound of my phone buzzing on my bed pulls me out of my thoughts. Scrambling to find it in the sea of clothes I tossed on it, I read the message waiting for me.
1 New Message: Miles Adler
I’m about twenty minutes out. I’ll see you soon doc :)
I find the simple smiley face far more attractive than I should. Like it’s his way of telling me he’s happy to see me again. He’s happy that we’re going wherever it is he’s taking us. The thought of making him happy makes me happy. I can’t help but smile at my phone as I type a reply.
“Okay, you need to decide what to wear. Hurry up and pick something before he gets here,” I say to myself. My hands run through my hair, clutching my scalp as if this is a life or death situation. He’s seen me in my pajamas before, what I wear now shouldn’t be as big of a deal as I’m making it out to be.
You know why you’re so flustered, don’t you?the clinical side of my brain asks as I grab my favorite pair of brown and camel plaid trousers I thrifted awhile back. They’re slightly too big for me and hit just below my ribcage. I love wearing them because they’re comfy and soft and remind me of someone’s grandfather. Trying to dress for any occasion, I pair the pants with a basic brown button down sweater. Its V-neck cut with white buttons up the front make the pantsseem more casual. The more I pull the pieces together, the more I like the outfit I’m constructing. I check the time and realize he’s going to be here in ten minutes. Quickly, I grab a brown belt to tie the outfit together, throw on some camel colored socks and my favorite brown loafers. To finish it off, I tie an old bandana around my head, pulling some pieces of hair out to frame my face and slip my glasses back on. Looking at myself in the mirror, I smile because I feel like me.
Slightly polished, a little old school, with a dash of carefreeness mixed in.
Just as I’m grabbing my favorite vintage knapsack out of my closet, a solid knock comes from my front door. I sling one of the shoulder straps over my shoulder and toss my keys and wallet inside as I walk to open it. When I do, I’m met with a very handsome looking man standing at my doorway. His brown hair looks darker than normal and by the way his aftershave tickles my nose, I can assume he’s recently showered. Clean shaven, his sharp jawline is on full display as he smiles at me. He’s got on a pair of loose fitted jeans and a dark gray T-shirt that hugs his body in a way that would make the Southern spirits blush. I watch as he takes me in and chuckles when his eyes land on my feet.
“I like your socks.”
