Chapter 8
Kate
Craig sipped his coffee and sighed almost pleasantly as we continued to rehash the meeting from less than an hour earlier.
“So, I found out I’d gone out on a date with a friend of yours the other day,” he laughed.
My brows rose. I didn’t have many friends. “Oh?” I asked, uncharacteristically curious.
“Your friend, Megan. We went out for coffee,” he mused, gesturing to our cups. “She’s a bit of a social media nut. So, while we were sitting at the table, she pulled out her phone and added me to Facebook. Turns out, we had you in common. She noticed that and our entire ‘date,’ if you could call it that, shifted gears.”
“Really?” I asked. “How so?”
He leaned forward, a confident smirk suddenly visible on his face. His eyes squinted playfully to look at me as if he was honing in on something, and his smirk turned into a devilish smile. “Well, the rest of it was spent talking about you.”
“Whatever she said I did, it’s probably a lie,” I giggled, almost flirtatiously. Megan was always a bit of a drama queen; but I knew she’d never say anything bad about me. After all, there wasn’t a whole lot to tell. “Okay, fine,” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I guess some of it might be true.” I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was about as straight of an arrow as they came. There was no way in hell she had anything on me that I actually cared about getting out — not anything true.
“She didn’t say anything bad about you, actually,” he chuckled. “I guess I sort of steered the conversation towards you…if I’m being honest.”
I blushed and crossed my arms protectively across my chest. I wasn’t sure what he’d meant, or what my body language meant. I didn’t know if it was my subconscious telling me to tread lightly because I’d just had my heart broken and was vulnerable, or if I was completely against his advances — which is what I could tell they were.
I doubted that’s what it was though, if I was being honest. Because I’d actually started the flirting. I’d honestly engaged him. And the whole time I’d been waiting on him to make some sort of move.
I mean, what the hell? Did I want Craig? I didn’t know. I did know one thing, though. Even if I had wanted Craig’s attention, sadly I wanted Ian’s more.
Craig was actually a strong, sturdy, good guy. I’d only thought that was the sort of man Ian was. But Ian was a coward. There was nothing strong about him.
“I really needed a drink by the end of the date, anyway,” Craig laughed, rubbing his temples as if recalling the date was starting to bring back negative feelings.
“Why, what happened?” I wanted to laugh, but part of me was nervous. I wondered if he’d already told me what happened and I’d just been far too busy inside my own head to notice.
It was honestly a little weird even so much as thinking about talking about his date with a friend of mine. I wasn’t sure if it was just the fact that it was nice to hear a therapist talk about his own issues, or if it was the fact that I was trying to obtain any sort of distraction from my own fucked up thoughts — Ian. Craig. Claire. Claire’s school. Guilt about telling Ian I was on a date. Guilt about how terribly sad he looked after doing it. Anger at Ian for causing all of this confusion.
And more Ian.
A lot more Ian.
“Well, to start, she messaged me through Facebook, while we were on the date — instead of actually talking to me face-to-face,” he explained, which meant that he, thankfully, hadn’t told me. It also meant that I needed to stop thinking and listen.
He was giving me juicy details into his life instead of prodding into mine and that was something worth paying attention for.
“Seriously?” I wanted to burst out laughing. Megan always was attached to her phone. I just didn’t think it was quite that bad.
“She definitely did,” he cringed, visibly.
“Are you saying that didn’t do it for you?” I feigned shock.
“Umm, no,” he laughed. “Believe it or not, I’m actually really big into proper communication.”
“I guess I can see that, considering communication is your job,” I took another sip of my coffee and shifted in my chair, my back aching from hunching over. I must have been listening more intently than I knew.
“Ha…” he laughed. “Not only that, though. I got into therapy because I do really just enjoy conversing with people, working through issues, and dealing with matters head on. I’m not a fan of passiveness…especially when it’s a question regarding sex and intimacy.”
A blush rose in my cheeks. So that was what she was talking about via Facebook message.
“Please tell me she didn’t,” I begged, my eyes wide in disbelief.
“She definitely did,” he sighed, twirling his cup in his hands. “She sent me messages the whole night. They got sexy pretty quickly. I even got some photos, which was honestly pretty surprising.”
“Wow. Okay then,” I replied “I don’t know why I’m even talking about this with you… I’m so sorry!” His cheeks turned crimson.
It was clear he hadn’t meant to turn the conversation to this.
“Oh no. Go ahead. You’ve already started now,” I teased. I didn’t know why I was so interested. But I was. I guess it was good to know that someone else’s love life sucked, too.
“I was just surprised to get them is all.”
“Why were you surprised?” I really was confused. “I mean, she was interested, right?”
“Well, we were at the coffee house together…” he trailed.
“And I guess you didn’t think she’d be messaging you over an app, rather than just talking to you.”
“No,” he said. “I mean, I’d gotten used to it by that point of the evening.”
He sighed and shifted, in his seat. “You don’t think it’s weird that she was sending such photos while we were sitting at the same table together?”
I narrowed my eyes. I wasn’t quite understanding something but I wasn’t sure what.
He chuckled, “If we hadn’t been together at the time, I would have thought she’d taken just them, but—”
The light bulb went off. “So it surprised you because she already owned the photos, and they likely weren’t taken for you.”
He nodded, a smile widening across his face. “I mean, yeah, don’t people usually send sexy photos of themselves in the state that they’re currently in. You know, to entice more?”
It was weird talking about sex with Craig. Really weird. But I didn’t feel awkward anymore. I was actually interested.
“I wouldn’t know,” I scoffed. My love life was non-existent. “Never have done much picture sharing. I was a huge book nerd. Hardly ever dated during school . . . or since really. And when I have, it hasn’t really turned out well.”
“Really? You must like to date jerks, because I see no problem with you,” he smirked.
“Wow, such a sweet talker!” I laughed, grabbing my cup off the table to bring it to my lips.
“I have game!” he exclaimed. But rather than come across as confident and cocky like Ian would have, it came across more like he was trying to convince himself.
I smiled. “Is that right? Go ahead, tell me about this game you have,” I said. “Oh, wait. Are you referring to women sending you unsolicited sexy photos on Facebook?” I joked.
“Okay, maybe I don’t have game,” he grinned. “Because when I asked who she’d initially taken the photos for, she got mad.”
I laughed. Out loud. Probably a little too loudly. “I would say so!”
“What do you mean?”
I groaned. “You might be a therapist, Craig, but my God, you’re a man. So, therefore you’re still an idiot at times.”
“Apparently!” he laughed. “And all of this was while she was sitting across from me. Of course, I asked her in person. Needless to say, I took her home shortly after.”
He leaned back, grabbing his cup with a smirk on his face. He acted exhausted after the story. “Like I said, I needed a drink. So I went and got the biggest Gin and Tonic I’d ever seen!”
“The doctor was drinking!” I laughed, leaning back in my chair as well. “That’s something I would have loved to see!”
“Oh, so you want me to have a drink?” he smiled, leaning forward again, so that he was leaning on his elbow. “Trying to get me drunk and take advantage, are ya?”
Oh God. There it was. The flirting again. And I knew right then that we were about to enter territories I wasn’t sure I was able to cross into. Territories I wasn’t sure I had jurisdiction to.
“Definitely not!” I scoffed, jokingly. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what you were like with a drink or two in you, though.” Craig was so buttoned down. Even more than me, and what the hell was straighter than a straight arrow, anyway? Because whatever it was, that was Craig.
It would have definitely been fun to see him cut loose.
“I actually would like to get a drink with you sometime,” he said. “So thank you for that invitation!”
“A drink honestly sounds kind of perfect right now,” I sighed. It would help me get over the fact that my mind was still whirling on what the hell I was doing — or going to do. About Craig. About Ian. About my anger, guilt, sadness, and resentment.
“So you know, I would definitely love to do that, but I’m not sure if I can,” I said, a devilish grin on my face.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, because how on earth can you drink gin?” I questioned. “That’s literally the worst alcohol ever!”
“Your opinion!” He shot back, feigning offense. “You know you want to be my drinking partner,” he teased. “Anyway, you did say you could use one.”
I shifted uncomfortably. I knew I shouldn’t have said I needed a drink. “Yeah, just a terrible couple of weeks.”
“Oh?” he asked, almost perking up. “What’s going on?”
I knew he was being a shrink all over again. Fun Craig was gone for a minute, and therapist Craig was trying to get me to open up.
“Just been in a weird funk, but it should all be good soon enough!” I was hoping my upbeat response would lighten the mood enough to make the questions go away, but he looked at me sternly, his head cocked to the side.
“How’ve you been feeling lately?”
“Other than tired and yawning a lot?” I asked with a smile. I didn’t want the conversation to go where I thought it might. I didn’t really want to open up.
“Yeah, other than that.” He was still being serious.
And for some reason, I decided to give him what he wanted.
“I don’t know,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve just been getting up earlier than usual. Hungry all the time, but not really wanting to eat. I can’t concentrate or remember anything. I’m always stuck inside my own head and I’m irritable — really freakin’ irritable.”
Craig rested both arms on the table and shifted his body forward, listening as I talked. “Is that all?” he asked.
I sighed heavily, hating that I was talking about myself, but it was sort of nice getting it off my chest. I didn’t expect myself to continue — and continue some more.
“No. I really hated getting out of the apartment today. I was mad at Claire. Imagine how shitty of a sister I have to be to be mad at her over something like that; over me having to leave the house and be social when I really just want to be curled up in bed mindlessly watching Netflix.” Word vomit was basically streaming out of my wide-open flap, and I wanted to shove it all back in.
“You sound like you’re depressed…” he trailed, and immediately I held my breath. Why in the hell would I talk to a shrink about this, anyway? And not just a shrink, but also a shrink that knew me personally. But he didn’t stop with the “depression” diagnosis. He kept going. “I knew things seemed off with you,” he said.
“Ouch, that terrible?” I laughed, trying to ease off the subject with humor. I knew I was upset, but depressed? That might have been taking it a bit far.
He smiled. “But you seem like you are at least able to concentrate right now!” he reassured me. “Somewhat, at least!”
“Oh, really?” I’d been basically blanking constantly since leaving the apartment. I was a total useless disaster at the school, and hadn’t listened to him at all on our way to Starbucks or while we were standing in line. What the hell made him think I was concentrating on anything? I was barely concentrating on getting the much needed caffeine and sugar I held in a cup in my hand into my body.
“Yes!” he chuckled. “We are actually having a conversation, finally!”
I sighed. I wanted to abort mission. Immediately. This had gone from fun and playful to a full-blown therapy session. I was glad we were talking, and that I wasn’t ignoring him anymore, but damn, I didn’t want to have a conversation about me and the ridiculous mental issues I was having over the past couple weeks.
“I’m not depressed, though,” I said simply. “Just upset about some stuff.”
“Oh?” he asked, clearly prompting me to continue.
“I was just sort of seeing a guy…” I started, not really sure why I wanted to keep going.
I was supposed to be trying to forget about Ian, not talking about him. Let alone talking about him with a therapist!
But there was something about Craig that made me want to tell him more.
“A guy?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s over now, though.”
That wasn’t a lie. It was over. I just wasn’t completely over him.
“And that’s why you’re upset?” he asked, a faint smile curving over his lips. It seemed like the whole, “it’s over” comment almost made him perk up, because as soon as I got the words out of my mouth, his lips started to move. How professional of him, I thought sarcastically. I wanted to laugh, but I also wanted to hit him in the face.
“Don’t seem so happy about it!” I laughed, although part of me was being serious.
“Oh, no,” he smiled. “I’m not trying to give you that impression. I'm just glad you’re talking to me.”
He smiled, and something in me just couldn’t help but to return it. Craig was an awesome guy, and his smile was one of the most infectious smiles I’d ever seen.
“Look, I’m not going to doctor you. That would be a major conflict of interest, but I will say that you may want to eliminate some stress.”
“Doesn't everything cause stress?” I laughed, but he looked at me, narrowed eyes.
“Good point. Try to eliminate extra stress,” he said. “Which means crappy boyfriends. Or ex-boyfriends.”
“I guess this is why you get paid the big bucks.” I laughed.
He smirked.
“Isn’t it hard not to become emotionally invested?” I asked, because I honestly worried about that for myself moving forward into teaching.
He looked down for a second and fingered at the lid of his cup, before glancing up with a smile directly at me. “It definitely is,” he cleared his throat, changing the subject. “So this guy… tell me about him,” He looked like he’d been a little close to choking up. I wondered if he’d meant me when referring to getting emotionally invested.
“What does he look like?” he laughed. “Cuter than me?”
I smiled. He was trying to lighten the mood once again — but if he knew anything he’d get the hint that I didn’t really want to talk about it. But I guess he wasn’t used to taking those hints as per his job. I mean, his job was to probe. So why would he start backing off now? I was just glad he wasn’t really probing, and instead just asking. Lightly even. Casually.
“Um, he’s blonde, gorgeous, and a total asshole. Nothing much left to say.”
He frowned. “Sorry to hear that.” And I believed him.
A silence brushed over us as we continued to sip our coffee. I gazed outside for a few minutes, watching people rush through the streets, some arm in arm with others, some completely by themselves — but everyone just going about their own lives. Most of the faces were smiling. Hardly any looked sullen, and I wondered for a moment if I was the only person not in-love with New York City. Everyone else always seemed so happy.
“So, I’ve come to a conclusion,” Craig said out of nowhere. I turned my gaze toward him. “You totally have a crush on me!” he laughed after a long pause.
“Excuse me?” I choked on my coffee.
“Just trying to get you to relax a bit,” he laughed. “You looked like you were getting tense just looking outside.”
“Ha… have any medication for that?”
“I don’t typically write prescriptions, but in this case, I’ll make an exception,” he stated, before grabbing a pen and pad from his coat pocket.
“No, Craig, that’s really not—” I started, but he held his hand up to stop me.
“I insist,” he said, as he jotted smooth strokes over the paper. “Here.”
He smiled as he handed me the paper. I looked at it, with a tear threatening to fall from the brim of my eye. It was a small picture of a cartoon version of me, with stars around my head. In big letters over the stars read, “Reach for the stars! That’s where you deserve to be!” and below on the RX line, it said, “Take 1 dose of needed R&R after finishing your drink with the handsome Doctor.”
“So, that’s what you are? ‘The handsome Doctor’?” I asked, almost giggling.
“My Mom seems to think so!” he laughed. “But hey, if you don’t, then… you know…plain ol’ doctor will work just fine!”
“Handsome isn’t a far stretch,” I smiled. I was hoping it wasn’t too much of a lead-on, but what else was I supposed to say? I was being honest. He was handsome. Extremely handsome. But I probably shouldn’t have said anything, knowing he liked me.
“I knew it. You’re totally into me. You’ve probably searched me on Google. Which I will say, I probably have an amazing Google track-record.”
I laughed again. “That doesn’t surprise me. You’re squeaky clean, I’m sure.”
“It’s only fair. I’ve Googled you a few times,” he said, a blush rising to his cheeks. I wondered if he was serious. I wasn’t creeped out like I would have been with someone else. With Craig, I knew he was just being his dorky, nerdy self. He wasn’t being stalkerish.
“You can Google me?” I laughed. “Do I have a Wikipedia page, too?” I was smirking.
“No. Not quite that famous,” he laughed. “But I did find out a few things.”
“Oh, really?”
“No, not really. You’re pretty boring.”
I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me either.”
I took another sip of my drink, getting closer and closer to the bottom of the cup. The liquid had cooled down to room temperature. “So, you have built up your Google search results to make you look awesome to all your lady stalkers, huh?”
His mouth fell open, “Stalkers?” he asked, shocked. “I’ll have you know that respectable people Google nowadays!”
“Oh, really?” I asked, my brow rising in inquisition.
“I mean sure, I told you about Megan, right?” He leaned forward, and lowered his volume like he was telling me a secret in a playful way. “That’s nothing compared to all the other ladies.”
I’d never heard him talk so freely. It was refreshing, really. He was definitely becoming more and more confident the more the conversation went forward.
“The other ladies, huh? Just how many other ladies are Googling you?” I teased even more. I really wasn’t sure what was coming over me.
“Well, that depends…” he smirked. “Are you jealous?”
I rolled my eyes again and let another silence pass over us. He knew I wasn’t jealous. He was just playing. Part of me, though, knew that a part of him wanted me to say that I was actually jealous.
I took a deep breath, finally feeling a little better, and looked around the Starbucks, trying to take the customers in. I always liked to watch people — especially when I was feeling bad — and Starbucks was always a good place to do it.
There were always people from many different backgrounds and ideologies all stuffed in one place. I mean, after all, pretty much everyone wanted coffee.
I couldn’t believe it though. How much better I’d felt. Well, how much better I’d felt until I finished my scanning of the restaurant.
My heart stopped when I glanced over and saw the man I’d been trying so desperately to forget.
Ian. Fucking Ian. I’d saw him almost immediately, too. He was waiting on his coffee. He wasn’t looking our way, and I wondered if he’d spotted us yet.
I looked away. But the more I kept replaying what I’d said to him — that I’d told him I was on a date — the worse I felt for lying to him. I glanced up from the table, and found myself scanning the room looking for him again. Eventually, my eyes fell on him waiting for his coffee. He looked disheveled.
I was staring. Hardcore staring when he caught me. The look on his face said it was the first time he’d realized I was there.
I glanced back over to Craig, and then back to Ian. Back and forth. Back and forth. I wasn’t able to formulate sentences. I didn’t know what to say. I sure as hell didn’t know what to do. I was trying to figure it out when I noticed Ian start to move toward us, his gaze deadlocked on Craig.
When he reached us, he just stood there, looming over us until he crossed his arms over his chest, almost accusingly.
He stayed silent for a few moments like he was waiting for something, only I didn’t know what.
What I did know was that one minute I was sad and feeling guilty, the next I wanted to punch him in the face. And I wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe it was the fact that he was coming up to me after I’d told him I had a date, and looking down at me with that accusing expression, or maybe it was the fact that he just made my blood boil in general when in close-proximity.
Whatever it was . . . I was mad.
I looked over to Craig, who looked confused as he stared at Ian then at me and back again.
“Craig Furhman, meet Ian Cross.” I said quietly, my voice almost choked as I gestured for the two men.
Craig extended his hand and stood. Ian, though, just glanced at Craig for a second and nodded smugly, showing complete disinterest in taking his hand.
I looked apologetically at Craig as he mouthed a “wow” under his breath. He flashed a half smile at me to show that it was alright as he sat back down. I wondered if he’d put two and two together and figured out who Ian was by his actions.
“Mr. Cross, if you don’t mind, we’re sort of in the middle of something here,” Craig said, taking more action than I’d expected him to. But it was a good thing because I was completely speechless. My heart was in my throat, preventing me from doing anything except look between the two men.
“I do mind, actually,” Ian snapped Everything slowed down. I looked at Craig, I was absolutely terrible by Ian’s assholeish behavior. Craig just looked at me and swallowed hard. I wondered if he was half-waiting on Ian to pull him off the chair and physically assault him.
That wouldn’t happen. Ian was a lot of things — he was certainly a jerk — but publicly unrefined he was not. He was all about appearances. He cared about his image; and he certainly cared about how others perceived him. Well, except for maybe Craig at the moment, clearly.
I hated that he’d caused a mini scene with Craig. He was finally getting me out of my slump. I was finally laughing. Really laughing.
I was finally smiling.
I was finally something other than a pitiful ball of sadness.
But of course Ian would be there to drag me right back down in the muck with him. He didn’t even look fazed by the way he was acting.
Craig at least had the good grace to look embarrassed.
But the more I watched Ian, I wasn’t entirely sure he was sober.
“Kate, can I speak with you?” he asked, through somewhat gritted teeth as he leaned down to where my face was, so that he was just a few inches away. Immediately, with him so close, I smelled the alcohol on his breath.
“Seriously?” I questioned, my anger growing. “Been in the whiskey tonight?” The more I smelled his breath, the angrier I got.
“Ian!” the barista called loudly from across the room, but Ian ignored it. He clearly wasn’t interested in coffee at that point.
Instead, he just looked at me, and I back at him. And that’s just how it was, for what felt like decades, but was only a few seconds. I just sat there, letting the situation sink in and fuel my anger.
“I might have had one or two,” Ian muttered.
But then, when I really looked at him, I saw actual pain behind his eyes. Immediately, I felt an emotion I hadn’t intended on feeling from the moment I’d seen him across the room.
I had felt irritation. I had felt anger. I had felt a whole lot of confusion. And God, I had felt a shit ton of embarrassment in front of Craig.
But in that moment, eyes locked with Ian’s, I felt nothing but pain.
He was holding back tears that were visible in the brim of his eyes. It looked like he was ready to cry. His face was reddening by the second, and I wasn’t sure if he was angry or straining of holding the tears back. But whatever it was, I could tell that he wasn’t okay.
I took a deep breath, and tried to figure out what the hell I could do.
I wanted to diffuse the situation; calm it all down before it got out of hand.
Ian was upset, but he had no right to be. This situation was all on him. And despite the fact that I was growing in anger all over again, I smiled at him. Fully intending to have that talk he wanted. Even though he might not like what I had to say. As soon as I did, though, I wished I hadn’t. Because his face darkened, and I watched anger roll over it.
Question was, why the hell was he angry?