Tick. Tick. Tick.
I sat perched on the side of my kitchen counter, watching the slow tick tick tick of the wall clock.
Gods, this is agonizing.
I pushed myself off the counter as my alarm rang. 'Therapy today!'
Ew. Why was my reminder so optimistic?
I shook my head and scooped my phone off the counter, dismissing the alarm as I made my way to the door. I slipped my coat off the couch, throwing it over my arm.
Maybe therapy doesn't actually help. Maybe it's just me blabbering and my shrink taking in the gossip.
Before I knew it I was in the waiting room once again. Waiting. Dreading my oddly comforting, yet mildly concerning 'girl talk.'
"Liora, Dr. Celtis is ready for you." Jenna called out from behind her desk without even looking up at me.
I straightened up briefly as I heard my name, but immediately sunk back into my seat with a heavy sigh at the doctor's name. I wasn't ready for the pre-planned cry-sesh.
I began gathering my things, and myself as the sound of those fancy, dress shoes became louder. Closer.
"Clair. C'mon. Don't keep me waiting."
Clair. That's a new one.
I looked up, finding the source of the oh-so-familiar voice I've come to love. Adrian.
I sighed and nodded, lifting myself to my feet. I knew the way to his office and beelined for it. I left him behind me as I settled myself into his office.
So cozy. Warm. Comfortable.
As I slipped off my shoes and set my purse down, he stepped into his office, shutting the door behind him. I curled up onto the small couch on the opposite side of his chair and pulled the fluffy blanket over myself.
He leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed as he looked down at me, the position made my knees feel like jelly.
"Liora." He huffed softly, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Yes, doc?" I responded, my voice almost a whisper as my eyes met his.
"I need to talk to you about your medication. I've been given some rather.. insightful information from your roommate."
My heart dropped.
Cheri called him to tell him I wasn't taking my medication? That bitch.
"Liora." He repeated, followed by a disappointed sigh.
I looked down and shrugged softly. My fingers picking gently at the soft fuzz of the blanket.
He stepped closer until he was right beside me. His hips just above my head as I kept it bowed to avoid looking at him.
He crouched down next to me on one knee, his hand ever so gently rested on my lower calves as his thumb brushed gently over them through the blanket. I could feel my breath hitch at his touch. It was almost like I could feel the pride wash over him in waves as he got some sort of reaction from me.
His touch lingered, warm even through the blanket, and I hated how much I wanted it to stay there. This wasn't right. Was it?
"Ria. I can't help you if you don't take your medication." He reminded.
I've heard this stupid lecture over a million times. I didn't even bother looking at him in response. I was over it. I stopped taking it because I became comfortable in my obsession. I became comfortable in the familiarity. I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose that connection to him I'd be holding onto for so long. He was my friend when no one else was. Why would I want to rid myself of that feeling?
"You told me it helped, Ria. Why fight it?" He questioned, his voice much softer than before.
I huffed softly and shrugged, still refusing to look at him. "I just don't.. I don't like the taste."
"The taste? That's your excuse, Ria? Seriously?" He asked incredulously.
His index and thumb softly gripped my chin, pulling my head to turn toward his. His grip was soft, yet firm. It was also very attractive. He was so close I could feel his breath fanning out across my skin. I could smell the coffee on his breath, mingling with the faint trace of his cologne. The combination was oddly grounding, yet it made my head spin.
"Don't bullshit me, Liora. I need you to take your medication if you want me to continue to help you."
I didn't respond. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I pursed my lips, staring into his deep brown eyes, feeling my chest tighten. My brows furrowed softly as I paused for a moment, not wanting to but sinking into his touch nonetheless. I just couldn't respond. Not in this position.
"Do you even want to get better, Liora?"
God I hated when he used my name. I loved the nicknames be used, but he only used them when he wasn't trying to be serious with me.
"I-.. I don't know, alright?" I finally squeaked out. His gaze still holding me captive.
He sighed and nodded, softly removing his hand from my chin, yet continuing to softly brush his thumb over my calves. "You know I need a real answer, Liora."
I wanted to pull away. I should have. But every time his fingers brushed my skin through the blanket, it felt like a thread pulling me closer. A thread I was too scared to break.
Before I could even respond to him, he spoke again. This time, somehow quieter than before, his voice was soft and caring, yet somehow still professional.
"Liora. You know I care about you. This.." he paused, looking down at me as he gathered he thoughts.
"You're not just a paycheck to me. You know that. So please, take your medication. If not for yourself... for me."
Shit.