Chapter 18 Angie
ANGIE
“You’re still in a good place with him?” my therapist, Maureen, asks through the screen.
Monday’s signify the beginning of the week. It also means my therapy sessions restart. It’s taxing on the body, but I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t get a proper diagnosis and the right tools to manage my depression.
“Yeah,” I tell her. I adjust my headphones and adjust my spot on the small couch that’s in my bedroom. Even though it’s the beginning of August, I have my balcony doors open to let the summer air inside. It helps that the breeze brings the scent of pine from the trees lining the side of the yard.
“But…” she begins knowingly.
“But I’m wondering how long we can exist in our bubble until someone comes along and pops it. We both know that we’ll have to tell our families. It’s just finding out when,” I voice one of our biggest hurdles since deciding to date.
Maureen gives me an understanding look as she tilts her head. “I wish they gave us these sorts of tools in school. But there is unfortunately no way to properly navigate dating someone your family has a history with.”
“So you’re suggesting we play it by ear like we have been?”
She nods. “Until you two can no longer deny that what you have is not just a fling, you’ll have to.”
I drop my head back and groan.
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Angie. But give yourself some grace for falling for someone in the first place. I know it’s hard to find pockets of light with your diagnosis because clinical depression is not one size fits all. Some feel like every day is a marathon.”
“You make it seem like my depression is a crutch.”
“No. But some days it will be your crutch—like when you can’t get out of bed, for one.
When you can’t find the joy in anything, including your new boyfriend or piano.
Those are the days when you’ll feel like your depression is winning.
But when you find that joy, when you’re kicking depression in the face, hold onto it. Remember that feeling.”
I say nothing to her. What can I say? I’ve used all my words and my body is empty. So I mindlessly nod as I look out of the window that overlooks the front yard.
“Okay,” my therapist says after I’ve said nothing for the last ten minutes and we’ve done nothing but stare at each other on the screen. “Well, our time is up today and your meds seem to be working still.”
My cheeks flame.
“What’s that look?”
“Um, is there a medication that doesn’t hinder my…” I look out the window to find the word.
“Your libido?” she asks, and I nod my head when I return my focus back to my screen.
“Medications affect people differently. Since you’ve been on an SSRI for the last two years, it shouldn’t cause you too much trouble.
But if you’re asking this, then maybe you shouldn’t have a reason to worry.
If you want, we can try a lower dosage.”
“I’d like that,” I tell her with a soft smile.
“Okay. I will submit your new prescription and I want you to at least give it a month. I know you’ve been on your current SSRI for the last two years. But if you notice anything like increased agitation or anxiety, let me know, and we’ll get you switched back, okay?”
I nod my agreement. “I will.”
“Okay. Well, we have our Wednesday session and you have my number if you need me.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
She parts with a smile and my screen goes dark. I always feel like I end my sessions with more questions than answers. And shouldn’t that not happen?
I take my headphones off and place them on the couch. I feel like my plate is impossibly full, but it’s hard to determine if that’s a good thing.
After unexpectedly working open to close yesterday, I’m grateful I’m not on the schedule today.
It gives me time to get ahead in my last class and prep to turn in some final projects.
Unconsciously, I chose business as my major, hoping to open my own piano bar.
It’s a pipe dream, but as I’m winding down my college career, I’m wondering if it’ll all go to waste.
I’m constantly reassured by people that it’s a great idea.
But it’s still just an idea. I still have no plan for getting it off the ground.
I mean, sure, I could always have Miles as a silent investor, but I don’t want to use his new friendship for my personal gain.
When I can no longer focus on homework, I grab my phone with the intention of getting something to eat when my phone rings.
“Hi, you,” I greet in lieu of a formal greeting when I walk into the kitchen. My parents have kept to their word and they’re home during normal hours.
“Hi, Angel. What are you up to?”
“About to make some dinner.”
“Have you started?” Brandon asks.
“No. Why?” I ask, my heart racing.
“Put some shoes on and meet me at the end of your street.”
My heart thuds and I look at my parents on the couch.
“Okay. Five minutes,” I whisper before hanging up and racing back upstairs to put on some sandals.
I look in the mirror and see my hair has lost its shape in the bun from this morning, leaving me with that messy bun every girl tries to achieve.
I think about changing out of the black maxi dress I’ve been wearing all day, but decide against it.
Heading back downstairs, I grab my keys and yell out, “I’ll be back.”
Without waiting for their response, I hurry out the door and down the street to my favorite person. Brandon’s car is idling, and I hop in the passenger seat.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” I greet and lean forward, taking his mouth in a desperate kiss. Brandon meets my fervor and wraps his hand around the side of my neck. He’s got more of a level head on and he breaks the kiss. Yeah…totally not affected by the meds.
“I have dinner for us.”
It takes me a few seconds to compute what he said and I look in the backseat to see Bird & Daughter take-out bags.
“You’re the sweetest,” I tell him and kiss him on the cheek.
Brandon puts the car in drive, and we sit in companionable silence as he drives us to a secluded park.
“I knew it was too good to be true,” I sigh.
He snorts and puts the car in park before turning it off. “What do you mean?”
“This is how every episode of Criminal Minds begins,” I state and follow him out of the car.
“An attractive man lures a young, beautiful woman with a bright future ahead of her to a secluded park, they hit it off, but then out of nowhere he kills her and leaves her body for some poor, unsuspecting old man to find.”
The trunk shuts with a thud and Brandon’s laugh. I love that sound. “I gotta find a way to block that show from your TV. Maybe put an age restriction on it.”
“Ha ha. By the way, you’re the one who brought me here,” I say, but still follow him to the picnic table.
“I did. It’s also the only park without a play area and an unobstructed view of the sunset.”
“Huh. Romantic. But still toeing the line of a Criminal Minds episode,” I tease, but help him lay out the blanket he snagged. Which is actually just a king-size comforter.
“You really do have a wild imagination.”
I help him unbox the food and drinks. “Only on my good days. But that’s what you like about me.” I look at the smorgasbord of food that’s laid out and have no clue where to start. “What’s in that box?”
“Gluten-free funnel cake.”
My mouth instantly starts watering and I contemplate eating dessert first. “You thought of everything.”
Silence falls over us as we eat dinner. It’s my favorite part about being with him.
Brandon doesn’t need noise to exist. When you’re surrounded by people who think talking is a way to keep you engaged, you eventually lose the need to always have something to say.
But with Brandon, I like that we can sit in silence and just enjoy each other’s company.
“How was your day?” I ask once we finish our dinner and dessert before placing the bag off to the side.
“Busy. But really good. My brothers came in to help with beta testing the game, and I asked them for brutal feedback since they’re now of the age to play the games James and I used to play,” Brandon says with a fond smile.
And slowly, it’s gotten easier for him to talk about his brothers around me without pause.
“And did they give you that brutal feedback?” I ask, treading lightly.
“Oh my god, I thought my team was going to cry.” He and I both laugh.
“So you’re close to launch day? That’s what it’s called, right?”
He nods and looks at me affectionately.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious that I have something on my face.
Brandon takes my hands in his and rubs the tops of them softly. “I like that you’re invested in my job.”
“What’s important to you is important to me,” I tell him.
“I think I wanna tell my brothers about us,” Brandon says, shocking me.
“You do? When?” I ask as my heartbeat kicks to life at the notion of us going public.
“Yeah. At least they’d be good testers for when I tell my parents. Maybe around the holidays? So we’d still have some time for just us.”
I nod as I think about finally being out and about with him. “How do you think they’ll react?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. On one hand, I know they’ll be confused and likely upset. But on the other hand, I’m hopeful they’ll be happy for us.”
“Can I be there when you tell them?” I ask hesitantly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I say with more confidence. “They’re your brothers.”
“Then, yes. You can be there.”
Okay, I mouth and look out at the park.
“How was your session?”
“I talked about you,” I begin and nod at his eyebrows raised in question. “My therapist basically said that we play the introductions by ear.”
“Did you want to wait?”
“No. If I’m being honest, I hate hiding our relationship. The further we get, the more stress it’ll be to hide.”
“We’ll do it slowly. My brothers first and then we’ll tackle our parents.”
“Deal.”
Brandon pulls me between his legs, and we watch as the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in a mural of hot pinks, neon oranges, electric purples, and the dark blue of night.
“What time do I need to drop off?”
“Whenever you feel like it,” I tell him and drop my head back on his shoulder.
“So never. Got it.” Brandon concludes, baring his teeth along my neck.
“Kidnapper,” I whisper and feel his silent chuckle shake my body while I settle deeper into his arms. “What’s your middle name?” I ask as his hands begin to roam.
“You want to know this now?”
“Mm hmm.” I move his arms and turn around, straddling him. “I want more nicknames to call you.” I run my hands through his hair and expose his neck, giving him the same treatment he gave me.
“It’s Oliver,” he says, and I smile against his throat as his words vibrate along my lips.
“Cute. Do you wanna know mine?” I ask and run my tongue up his neck and tug on his earlobe.
“I already know it,” Brandon says, strained.
I sit back and look him in the eyes. “Liar.”
“You forget I’ve heard your name yelled across backyards many times, Angela Claire.”
I roll my eyes defiantly and wind my fingers through his brown strands again. “I’ll have a nickname for you in no time.”
“Same,” he says and mashes his mouth to mine.
This kiss, like all the others, isn’t slow or close to a buildup.
It’s heat and inferno and everything that a kiss should be.
I back up on his thighs and reach between us to unbutton and unzip his pants.
The head of his cock pokes through the slit in his briefs and I can’t resist running my thumb over the tip and spreading the pre-cum.
“Don’t play with me, Ang,” Brandon orders and slides his hands under my dress and rips my panties off my body. “Now sit on my cock so we can both come.”
My mouth drops in shock, awe, and arousal as I slowly lower on his length. He feels so much deeper this way, and when I’m full of him, I finally take in a lungful of air.
“You feel,” I begin and rise up on my knees before sinking back down on him.
“Fucking fantastic,” Brandon finishes for me as he sits up and wraps his hands around my waist to help me set a rhythm.
“Yeah. That,” I agree and wrap my arms around him and fuse our lips together in a burning kiss.
Our bodies move together like waves in the ocean.
He hits a depth in me that’s never been touched before, and the thought consumes me.
Brandon’s hands roam over my body as my hips are lifted and lowered over his.
With every stroke, he brushes my clit, and I tremble on the spot.
When I need air more than I need to kiss him, I break the kiss and tug his earlobe between my teeth.
“Dammit, Ang,” Brandon swears and moves his hand between our bodies, rubbing my clit until I come with a cry and feel his warmth fill me up.
I continue my lazy movements, kissing along his neck and face, running my hands through his hair that’s gotten damp at the temples. “So you’re a video game developer, an older brother, have your nipples pierced, and know what to do with your dick.”
“Is that your requirements for a boyfriend?” he asks, running his hand lazily up and down my back whilst still buried inside me.
“It’s just some of my requirements.”
“What are the others?”
I hum into his neck and place a light kiss there. “A good cook, obviously.”
“Oh, I have that skill.”
“You do,” I agree. “You’re also kind, sensitive, and now you’re one of my best friends.”
He kisses me on the tip of my nose. “You’re my best friend, too.”
Once we clean up, we lay on the trussed-up blanket and watch night take over.
I tell Brandon that my biggest fear is losing interest in things I love because of my depression.
He promised to remind me during my down days, or weeks, that the things I love will be there when the night is no longer dark.
His fear is losing more people close to him.
While I told him I can’t make that promise about those on the outside, I did promise that he won’t lose me.
And there in the park, in the arms of the boy I more than like, I begin to reach the top of the hill of love with Brandon Hayes.