My therapist is a master of pretending nothing happened and that everything's fine. Kind of ironic.
"Tell me about your week."
Dr Ambrose sits in the hard-backed chair, his expression pleasant and his fingers tapping lightly at his armrests. His dark hair is neat; his beard is trimmed. He looks so freaking good, and completely unaffected by what happened in that parking lot a few days ago.
Asshole.
I frown out of his office window at the branches fidgeting in the breeze. Pink and white blossoms cling to the tree, shivering like they're cold, and when one breaks away and flutters to the ground, it reminds me of that stupid napkin.
"It was fine." He wants to be an ass about this? Well, two can play at that game. "A cute guy kissed me outside a bar, but it was only okay."
Ambrose's eyes
