Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Blake
If his psychologist’s waiting room was an extension of her personality, Blake was concerned.
The decor was so boring and uninspired – more pastel than an Easter basket, with a complete absence of sharp corners.
Every piece of furniture was rounded off and smooth.
On the wall was a bland picture of a tree.
Not a landscape, just a tree. It wasn’t even a cool tree.
Other than Blake and Ethan, there was only one other patient, a young guy scrolling on his phone, his legs draped over his chair’s armrest.
Blake paged through an out-of-date copy of The Advocate. He didn’t have the energy to try and read the tiny print, so he glanced at the pictures instead.
Beside him, Ethan typed on his laptop, toggling between two spreadsheets every few seconds.
He was so incredibly sexy when he concentrated, and that little half-moon formed on the bridge of his nose between his eyebrows.
He’d been plugging away on the business plan ever since the meeting with Virgil, determined to finish it before his classes started in a couple weeks.
Every night, they stayed up late, talking through the plan, with Blake sharing his vision and Ethan crunching the numbers. All the financial planning made Blake’s head swim, but Ethan was really getting into it.
After their work session, Blake would take Ethan to bed, holding him in his arms and kissing him while he languidly slid inside him, in no rush to come.
Being close to Ethan was the best feeling in the world.
Every time they had sex, it was better. He was learning Ethan’s body in a way he never had a chance to do with hookups and scene partners.
He sighed. Probably not the time or place to get lost in a sexual fantasy.
Better to focus on his boring magazine. He flipped past an article about some Hollywood A-lister and stopped at a Truvada ad that pictured shirtless men playing beach volleyball.
Hello. One of the guys had amazing lats, sun-kissed and glistening with perspiration…
When his phone vibrated with a notification, Blake quickly closed the magazine and tossed it on the table. He had a text from an unknown number.
UNKNOWN
Hi, it’s Nash
Blake blinked at the screen with a frown. Who the hell is Mash? Another message popped up in the chat: We met at Spencer’s party.
He studied the first message more closely, and realized his mistake. Oh… right. Nash. The OnlyFans guy.
At Spencer’s birthday party the weekend before, Xander had cornered Blake at the snack table while he was eating a piece of cake. Ethan was on the other side of the room chatting with Spencer.
“Blake, my man,” Xander had said. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” He introduced Blake to a drop-dead gorgeous guy with lush brown hair and an aggressive V-taper. “Nash here is interested in starting on OnlyFans, and I told him you’re our resident expert on porn.”
“I’m not an expert,” Blake said, sucking the frosting off the end of a birthday candle.
“Of course you are. You’re Dirk Slocum.” Xander patted Blake’s shoulder. “This guy knows the industry inside and out.”
“Well, studio porn is different from amateur…” Blake’s voice trailed off, and he shot a nervous glance in Ethan’s direction.
“I’d love to pick your brain sometime,” Nash said.
“Sure, sure,” Blake said, eager to end the conversation before Ethan returned. “Xander can give you my number.”
And now this Nash guy was texting him. Fantastic.
Ethan looked over from his laptop. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s Xander.” Blake winced at the lie.
“Tell him I said hi.” Ethan went back to typing numbers into his spreadsheet.
Since Ethan was sitting next to him, Blake couldn’t use voice-to-text. His eyes roamed over his phone’s virtual keyboard, hunting for each letter as he painstakingly typed his response. He hated keyboards. Why couldn’t they just put the letters in the right order?
As soon as he sent Hi Nash, another message appeared in the chat.
UNKNOWN
I have so many questions
Blake had barely read that sentence when a new message came through.
UNKNOWN
Do I need special lighting?
His fingers trembling, Blake tapped out ring lihgt, but before he could hit enter, two more messages popped up.
UNKNOWN
And cameras. Can I use my phone
How often should I post videos?
It was too much all at once. Blake’s mind went blank, and he struggled with what to answer first. Think, dummy. It’s not rocket science. Maybe if he could slow down the barrage of questions, he’d be able to focus better. He deleted his message and typed: 1 at a time.
UNKNOWN
LOL, sorry. I’m just excited.
First things first, do I have what it takes?
That question surprised Blake. Nash had to know he was a good-looking guy and would be very successful as a model. He was about to reassure him when a picture filled his screen – Nash, completely naked, his massive cock front and center.
“Shit!” Blake’s phone dropped into his lap, and he scrambled to shut it off before Ethan saw a stranger’s dick pic on his phone.
“Are you okay?” Ethan asked.
“My phone slipped out of my hands. They’re all sweaty.”
Ethan shut his laptop and stretched his arms over his head. “Are you nervous?”
“Yeah. I don’t do well on tests.”
“Well, there are no right or wrong answers with these tests.”
Blake was certain that if anyone could prove that statement wrong, it would be him.
A curvy woman wearing a chunky necklace and a cable-knit cardigan stepped into the waiting room and called Blake’s name.
Blake hopped up, and she shook his hand.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Fleming. Come on back.”
Still rattled after his exchange with Nash, Blake looked between his boyfriend and the doctor, shoving his hands in his pockets to conceal how much they were trembling. “Can Ethan be in the appointment with me?”
“During an evaluation, it’s best not to have any distractions in the room. He’s welcome to join us at the end, though.”
“Oh, okay,” Blake said, his eyes locked on Ethan. Please don’t make me do this alone.
“I’ll be here when you’re done. You’re going to do great,” Ethan said with a soft smile.
Blake followed Dr. Fleming through a short hallway to her office.
The decor in her office wasn’t much better than the waiting room.
White walls, an oatmeal-colored carpet, and beige furniture.
At least she had a plant on her desk with mottled purple and green leaves.
It was the first interesting thing he’d seen all morning.
“Have a seat.”
Blake sat in one of the chairs facing her desk, clasping both hands in his lap.
Dr. Fleming opened a folder and removed a stack of forms.
Are all those forms for me? Blake’s heartbeat drummed in his ears.
“We’re going to go through a number of tests today. They’re meant to be challenging, so try not to get discouraged if you falter. Just relax and do your best. We can take breaks if you need to. Do you have any questions for me?”
Blake shook his head. “Let’s just get it over with.”
The next two hours were torture. He was asked to pronounce nonsense words and solve math problems. He stumbled through memory challenges and failed at spelling tests. At one point, Dr. Fleming held up cards and he had to name the image on the card as quickly as possible.
Most humiliating, though, was when he had to read passages aloud. He wilted with shame at how stilted he sounded, and cringed every time he had to sound out a word like a toddler.
He knew it wasn’t true, but it felt like the tests had been designed to make him feel stupid.
When the battery of tests was finally over, Blake slouched in his chair, completely drained. His brain had been wrung out like a sponge and dropped back into his skull.
Dr. Fleming invited Ethan to join them, and Blake sighed with relief when his boyfriend sat next to him and held his hand.
“Please keep in mind that I need to finish scoring your tests and compiling my full report before I can give you a formal diagnosis,” Dr. Fleming said as she stacked her notes neatly and slipped them into a file. “But based on what I’ve seen today, I strongly suspect both dyslexia and dyscalculia.”
Blake had only prepared himself to hear the word dyslexia. “What’s the second thing you mentioned?”
“Dyscalculia. It’s a difficulty with math and numbers.”
“I might have a learning disability that affects math?”
“I believe so. It can manifest in different ways, like challenges around money, difficulty judging distances, estimating time, basically any type of number-based problem solving.”
Blake’s shoulders hitched and he sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
Ethan wrapped his arm around Blake, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Babe, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“All this time, I just thought I was… dumb.”
“Blake, having a learning disability doesn’t have anything to do with intelligence,” Dr. Fleming said. “Your brain just works differently from other people’s. There are accommodations that can make your day-to-day life easier. I’ll know more how to help you once I’ve completed my full evaluation.”
She said more, but Blake only heard the muffled rise and fall of her words.
He rested his head on Ethan’s shoulder, finding comfort in his boyfriend’s embrace.
There was too much to process, and his brain had taken in all the information it could hold for one day.
He let everything recede to the background and focused on the one thought that brought him peace, repeating it over and over in his head.
I’m not dumb.