The Other Girl

I stay silent, every fiber of my being tangled with his words and those troubled blue eyes.

“That’s what happened,” he says, shrugs. “I punched Jerad Harding for being a dick, then I kept punching him to beat away the dullness.”

Gaze steady with his, I don’t blink. “Did it work?” When his brow creases, I clarify: “Did nearly beating this boy to death make you feel?”

A crooked smile twists his mouth. “It didn’t make me feel any less.”

We stay locked in this stare, neither one of us knowing the next move, until I break eye contact to glance at the clock above the door. “I think that concludes our first session.” I turn toward the laptop and type, making myself busy, so I won’t look at him again as he leaves the office. “Please schedule your follow up session with Ms. Jansen for next week.”

He rises from the seat silently. Then: “What if I want to see you before then?”

Hands hovering over the keys, I focus on the pulse in my palms, the fresh cuts from my nails. This is real. “You’re only required one session a week and—” I meet his eyes “—I feel that’s enough.”

He moves so quickly, I barely have time to push my chair away from the desk before he’s latched on to the arms, caging me in. “Just so we’re on the same page, Ms. Montgomery, there’s no gauzy web when I look at you.” He raises a hand to touch my face…but halts right before, letting the dare hang between us. “I hope that doesn’t scare you.”

The heat of his body rises like a current of electricity, his hand might as well be touching me. I feel seared. “I don’t frighten easily, Mr. Hensley.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. My gaze is drawn to his mouth, and I’m acutely aware of the tender ache between my thighs. “I’ll see you soon.” He winks.

He says it like a promise, like a threat—and I let him walk out of the office without another word.

When the door clicks closed, I slump in my chair and exhale a forceful breath. My whole body is wound tight, on edge. I throb between my legs from having squeezed my thighs together so hard.

I pluck a tissue from the box on my desk and grip it in my hand, letting the blood absorb.

There is a level of wrong here that is very dangerous.

Whatever initial reaction I had toward Carter was in direct relation to his likeness to a boy I loved before—a very long time ago. Classic displacement. Jeremy and I left things between us so unfinished…

That’s over. It’s been over for seven and a half years. Yet the mind is cruel; I know this above all. The most painful memories never fade. Just like the scent of Carter’s cologne resurfaced a long-ago buried memory; like it was yesterday that Jeremy held my wrists trapped against a locker…

I breathe in the air, taste his lingering scent before it fades completely.

That’s where the similarities between the two end, however. This dangerous feeling for Carter has nothing to do with the past, and everything to do with the boy daring me to bite the forbidden apple.

With determined strength, I type up a deduction in Carter’s file.

Aggression versus violence. Which dominates this individual? Are his actions led by aggressive thoughts, or is he reactional to violence?

I write a lengthy comment, where I detail every word and action during our meeting…then delete it. Our interaction feels too personal, intimate, to be put on record. I replace the whole statement with one word: aggressive.

Carter is aggressive.

He is aggressively pursuing me.

And he’s going to be a problem.

Fixate

Ellis

It started out innocent enough.

A simple peek at social media. A quick Google search. A harmless glimpse into his life.

After Carter left my office, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. That intense stare. The dare in his pale-blue eyes. The way the muscles in his forearms tensed when he gripped my chair.

The way he described his inability to feel. The way he declared I could change that.