An Anonymous Girl - Greer Hendricks Page 0,12

was kiss. I grab my boots and coat and tiptoe to the door. It creaks when I open it and I flinch, but I don’t hear any signs of Noah stirring in his bedroom. I ease it shut slowly, then slip on my boots and hurry down his hallway. I take the elevator to the lobby, smoothing my hair and rubbing beneath my eyes to remove any smudged mascara while I descend the nineteen flights.

The doorman looks up from his cell phone. “Good night, miss.”

I give him a little salute and try to orient myself once I’m outside. The nearest subway stop is four blocks away. It’s almost midnight, and a few people are milling around. I head for the station, digging my MetroCard out of my wallet as I walk.

My face stings in the cold air and I reach up to touch a tender patch on my chin from where Noah’s stubble rubbed against it when we kissed.

The discomfort is somehow comforting.

CHAPTER

SIX

Sunday, November 18

Your next session begins as your first one did: Ben meets you in the lobby and escorts you to Room 214. As you climb the stairs, you ask if the format will be the same as yesterday’s. He responds affirmatively, but can’t provide you with much more information. He isn’t permitted to share what little he knows; he has also signed a nondisclosure agreement.

As before, the slim, silver laptop is set up in the first row. Your instructions are visible on the screen, along with a greeting: Welcome Back, Subject 52.

You take off your coat and ease into the chair. Many of the other young women who have occupied this seat are almost indistinguishable, with their long, straightened hair, nervous giggles, and coltish frames. You stand out, and not only because of your unconventional beauty.

Your posture is almost rigid. You remain immobile for approximately five seconds. Your pupils are slightly dilated and your lips are pressed firmly together; classic symptoms of anxiety. You take a deep breath as you press the Enter key.

The first question appears on the screen. You read it, then your body relaxes and your mouth softens. You lift your eyes to the ceiling. You give a brisk nod, bend your head, and begin to type quickly.

You are relieved the final query from yesterday, the one you struggled with, is not on the screen.

By the third question, any remaining tension has evaporated from your body. Your guard is down. Your answers, as during the last session, do not disappoint. They are fresh, unfiltered.

I didn’t even leave him a note when I snuck out, you write in response to the fourth question, the one that asks: When was the last time you treated someone unfairly, and why?

The survey questions are deliberately open-ended so subjects can steer them in the direction of their choosing. Most female subjects shy away from the topic of sex, at least this early in the process. But this is the second time you’ve explored a subject that makes many people self-conscious. You elaborate: I figured we’d sleep together and then I’d leave. That’s what usually happens on nights like this. But on the way to his place, we passed a pretzel vendor and I started to buy one because I hadn’t eaten since lunch. “No way,” he said, pulling me away. “I make the best French toast in the city.”

But I fell asleep on his couch when he ran out to get eggs.

You are frowning now. Is this due to regret?

You continue to type: I woke up around midnight. But I wasn’t going to stay, and it’s not just because of my dog. I guess I could have left my number, but I’m not looking for a relationship.

You don’t want a man to get too close to you right now. It will be interesting if you elaborate on this, and for a moment, it seems as if you will.

Your fingers remain poised above the keyboard. Then you give a little shake of your head and you touch Enter to submit your answer.

What else was it that you were tempted to write?

When the next question appears, your fingers fly back to the computer. But you don’t respond to it. Instead, you pose a query of your own to your questioner.

I hope it’s okay if I break the rules, but I just thought of something, you type. I didn’t feel guilty when I left that guy’s place. I went home, walked Leo, and slept in my own bed. When I woke up

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