so friendly.
Chapter Four
"HOW WAS YOUR weekend, Blake?" Dr. Travetti crossed her legs. She was rocking a yellow pantsuit today and with her tall, lean frame, it gave her the unmistakable resemblance of a pencil.
"It was okay."
"What did you do?" She laid her clipboard against her lap and tapped the end of the pen against the metal clip.
I shrugged, leaning forward to plant my elbows to my knees. "Cleaned the bike, called Celia—"
"Celia?"
"I've told you about Celia. She’s my friend. I work with her."
"I know," she said. "But why did you call her?"
"To hang out, I guess. Why?"
Dr. Travetti wasn't buying that bit of bullshit. She knew my history with Cee. "To hang out, or to have sex?"
I released a heavy sigh and shook my head. "Does this seriously matter right now?" She scribbled something onto the first sheet of paper and I lowered my brow with scrutiny. "What was that?"
"Just writing, Blake. Keep telling me about your weekend."
"No, I'm curious. What did you write?"
Laying the pen back down on the board, she folded her hands and leveled me with a glare. "Tell me something, Blake. Why did you immediately get defensive when I asked if you called Celia to have sex?"
"Because it's irrelevant, and none of your business."
"It was a simple question. An innocent one, at that."
"I don't know why the hell it matters if I call my friend for sex or not. It was a mutual agreement between us, and she doesn't want to anymore, anyway so—"
"Why doesn't she want to?"
I lifted a hand and dropped it angrily to the arm of the chair. "Once again, Doc, none of your business—”
“You brought it up, Blake.”
I groaned in reply. “Whatever,” I muttered dismissively, then added, “And if you really wanna know, she wants to start dating again, so that's the end of our thing."
"That bothers you," she assessed. "Did you want to date her?"
I scoffed and shook my head. "Hell no. Cee and I are friends and co-workers. That's all. Yeah, I mean, we hooked up every now and then, but there's nothing more than that between us."
"Then, what bothers you about her dating someone?"
I furrowed my brow. "I don't know."
"But it does bother you."
"Yeah, I guess it does a little,” I relented.
She waved a hand toward me. "Well, try to explain it to me."
I unburdened myself with a huff and pressed my back to the chair. "You know, Doc ..."
"Try, Blake," she encouraged gently. “You only bring these things up when I know you want to talk about them, so just try.”
Raking my fingers through my hair, I looked up to the ceiling and without a second thought, I began to speak. "I don't know. I guess maybe I feel a little rejected. A little frustrated, too. I thought we had a good thing going. I mean, we've been doing this shit for years. We always kept the sex from getting between our work relationship and how rare is that? I don't even think Gus suspected anything. We kept that shit separate. But now, she decides she wants to date people, and I get it. She doesn’t wanna have to explain her fuck buddy to them, that’s fine, but what am I supposed to do? I know that makes me sound like a selfish prick, but I mean, seriously. It's not like we fucked regularly or anything, but every now and then, the mood struck, and we were there for each other. But now ..." I shrugged with defeat.
“Now you feel alone,” she finished for me.
“Yeah,” I concluded as my gaze traced the outline of crown molding. “I guess that’s it.”
"Are you jealous?"
Bringing my attention back to her, I laughed darkly. "Jealous? Of who?"
"Celia? Or … whoever she ends up dating?"
I laughed again. "Nah, I'm not jealous. I told you. I don't feel like that about her."
"No," Dr. Travetti said sternly. "I meant, are you jealous that she might have someone soon, and you don’t?”
"Hell no." I snickered, tipping my head back again.
"Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Because I don't want someone."
There was a long pause, too long, and I looked back to the good doctor to make sure she hadn’t disappeared altogether. What I found was Dr. Vanessa Travetti, pursing her pretty lips and assessing me for too many seconds longer than I would've liked. She was picking me apart, playing her mind games, and the longer she watched, the more I wanted to yell at her. But before I could speak, she finally asked, "Do you