Therapy Sessions #2
Marcus reaches out and grabs my arm before I can retreat too far, though. His warm hand sends tingles through my skin. Goddammit, this is ridiculous.
The more I allow myself to be internally honest, which is just Grant’s fancy way of saying feeling my feelings, the more Marcus turns me inside out.
Before going to therapy with the full intention of taking it as seriously as possible, I had a million barriers and trauma-nopes packed in my head to reason all of these little flutters away. Now the damned butterflies can’t seem to calm down anymore.
Which is rather annoying because during the last several weeks, I’ve gotten notoriously famous for seeking out validating touches.
Whether it’s hugs from Tristan or curling up against my brother or Marcus, the fact is my system calms down more quickly when I can feel the warmth of someone I trust nearby.
Marcus has realized this and is now much quicker to give hugs and to let me curl up on the couch against him while watching movies.
And there have been several occasions when I’ve gone from enjoying the feel of his hands brushing through my hair to waking up the next morning alone in my bed, knowing it was him who brought me up and tucked me in.
If I said it doesn’t make me so ridiculously horny sometimes I struggle to breathe, I’d be a liar. But it’s also created a thick vein of comfort and trust that has meant everything to me and allowed me to become increasingly comfortable with his skinship.
However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still make my skin tingle every time he touches me, nor does it stop me from being internally annoyed by it because I should be used to it by now. The longer it goes, the harder it is to keep my stupid, hopeful heart under control.
“No, no, no, I’m just teasing. Come on, you fought so hard to get here, what do you need from me?” he asks sincerely, his smile gone and replaced with a serious expression.
“I don’t need–” I start to say before Marcus huffs and rolls his eyes at me.
“Okay, fine, want. What do you want?” he amends, stepping further into my space with those deep eyes on me that make me feel like he’s pleading for my surrender while simultaneously searching out the answers he knows I may not give to him now that I’m obviously wavering.
I stand there for a second, my head spinning between pride and anxiety, before the anxiety wins and I let out a heavy sigh. “Are you free for a while?”
Marcus nods. “My afternoon class was canceled, and I don’t have practice until 4, so I’ve got some time.”
My fingers find a loose thread on my shirt and immediately curl around it. I look down at the hem to see how long it is and try to decide whether to just pull it or cut it off.
“Well, it’s just that–” I mumble, looking down at my feet until Marcus’s fingers nudge my chin, making me look up in that move that always has my heart breaking into a flurry of excitement.
“I hate it when you hide your pretty eyes from me, Qiang,” he says, taking my breath away for a moment.
It takes me a second to breathe, my anxiety coming up to bat because I’m not great at looking people in the eyes when I’m being weak–shit–vulnerable.
“Usually Qi takes me to my therapy sessions, but my therapist had to reschedule my appointment time, and it’s right on top of when both Qi and Tristan are in class, so there’s no one to take me.
And obviously I can drive myself, but I hate driving, it stresses me out, and then the therapy sessions usually stress me out, so then if I drive after a session it’s like stress on top of stress, which really is safe for no one–” I start blurting out in a spiral while admiring the deep pools of his obsidian eyes, and maybe using that as a way to focus my nerves to get out what I need to say.
“So you want me to take you?” He saves me from my nervous rambling by interrupting me with a single question I probably could have asked from the start, instead of going on a random tangent about why I needed to ask.
“Um, yeah, if you aren’t busy, or it’s not too much, or whatever, I can manage. I’m being ridiculous, really,” I frown.
I hate feeling like this. It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to need people that it goes against the grain, but Grant says the more I reach out, the more I’ll get used to it, and eventually the burden of carrying everything on my own will lessen.
Marcus taps the bottom of my chin with his finger, because of course, he didn’t take his hand away when he tilted my face up.
Not that he ever does. I usually have to step away for his hand to fall, and until I do, he just keeps his pointer finger curled under my chin, his thumb softly grazing along my jawline.
It’s probably as much of the reason I was able to ramble out my request as it is the reason my knees feel more like jelly than bone right now.
“You are not being ridiculous. You are facing a situation that makes you uncomfortable, and you’re asking for help navigating it.
That is the exact opposite of ridiculous, and if you can give me like ten minutes to freshen up, then I in no way mind taking you to your appointment,” he says firmly in his deep, rumbly voice that has some of my nerves calming back down.
“Thank you,” I breathe out gratefully before taking a firm step out of his space.
The barest trace of displeasure passes his features before he lets his hand drop.
My chest throbs painfully at the expression, knowing it was me stepping back that put it there.
I feel like I should say something to salvage the good mood from earlier, but the trace is gone almost as quickly as it was there and is now being replaced by his trademark smile.
“No need. I’m happy to,” he says in a bright voice that’s somewhere between genuine and forced.
A month ago, I was convinced the absolute last thing I needed was to start something with Marcus Bauer.
I had a mile-long list of everything that made him a huge nope.
But now none of them hold up. The only things that sit there now are knowing I’m a mess and most likely completely unfit for consumption, and that I’m terrified of him because I know he wants everything, and I just don’t know if I’m capable of giving anyone that, ever.
My therapist’s practice is in an old Victorian house with the interior remodeled for doctors’ offices.
The lobby has plush benches, sheer draperies, and ornate decorations that draw the eye and make it feel a bit more relaxed than the stuffy, bland style of most offices.
There’s a soft ticking of an antique grandfather clock on the wall next to us and an indoor fountain across from us that keeps the silence from stagnating.
While the firm reminder of where I’m at and why I’m here is definitely in the back of my mind, the office here is designed to soothe patients’ worst nerves.
However, the worst of them doesn’t mean all of them, and while I’m not freaking out as I might be in a stuffy, sterile-feeling doctor’s office, I know I still am in one, despite the pretty decorations, so I’m fidgety.
While I silently count the grooves in the wood paneling that decorates the bottom half of the walls, my fingers keep playing with the loose string at the hem of my shirt because, for the life of me, I don’t know why I haven’t pulled it yet.
Marcus is next to me, taking the room in slowly since it’s his first time here. I did tell him he could wait in the car, or even the nice coffee shop next door, but he resolutely followed me in here and plopped down to wait with me.
I should feel a bit guilty for making him bring me here.
On the list of fun things to do, sitting in the lobby of a doctor’s office ranks somewhere between being the patient who has to actually go into the doctor’s office instead of just the lobby and root canals, which arguably also means being the patient who has to actually go in the doctor’s office.
But he looks as happy as he can be as he looks around the room and shoots me encouraging smiles.
“Qi says he’s proud of how seriously you’re taking the therapy,” he says when he realizes I’ve paused counting the panels for a moment while taking him in.
I really shouldn’t watch him as much as I do, and I really shouldn’t let him catch me at it as often as I do, especially when he can’t stop the upward twitch of his lips at the attention.
“Well, it’s not exactly the most fun I’ve ever had. But I had to take it seriously after all the damage I’ve caused. I can’t just keep doing that.” I frown and turn back to the panels.