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? ? ?

The next morning—or afternoon, I was up and very productive on my laptop.

Online shopping of course.

It had just hit two in the afternoon and I had a shot of espresso Kaia brought me.

I didn't necessarily need the extra energy since I got plenty of sleep last night.

After eating Jack in the Box with Kaia yesterday, we binge-watched some shows and then she left to go back to her place.

Then I got ready for bed, falling asleep around ten and sleeping in until eleven.

I doom-scrolled on social media for a couple of hours before Kaia interrupted me with a few knocks on my door—holding an iced coffee in one hand and my espresso shot in the other.

Now we've settled on the couch, with her watching an old Bratz movie while I focused on shopping for classes that start next week.

"Okay, this is what I decided on," I said, flipping my Macbook around for Kaia to see.

I had spent an hour finalizing my different online shopping carts, ensuring everything looked good and the sizes were right.

"I love these," Kaia murmured, pointing at the faded cheetah denim jeans.

"They're fire right?" I said, smiling as I stared at them for a moment.

I planned to wear a cute black bodysuit with it and a pair of black Golden Goose Hi-Star platform sneakers.

But only the Golden Goose's that look new—I can't stand the ones that look worn down on purpose.

"I need a try-on haul when you get this," Kaia determined as she looked through my other carts.

"Duh—I'll have complimentary champagne for you to drink during the try-on," I said, winking at her as she handed the laptop back to me.

"And mimosas if it's a morning try-on," Kaia added with a smile, leaning her head against my shoulder as I began placing each order.

"You know the drill," I murmured, still focused on finalizing everything, "I'm heading over to Zi's once I finish this if you want to come."

Kaia dramatically huffed, "Buzzkillington? No thank you," she mumbled, naturally earning a small chuckle from me.

Kaia will not let go of the name she made for my more... level-headed best friend.

The moment Zion told us to slow down on shots one night, Kaia deemed him a buzz kill and started calling him Buzzkillington.

"You can stay here if you want," I said, placing my last order with a brief tap on my mousepad.

"It's fine, I have to clean my apartment anyway," Kaia determined, standing up from the couch with a dramatic sigh.

"Need any help?" I instinctively asked her, closing my laptop to stand from the couch with her.

Kaia stretched with a deep groan, shaking her head, "No it's fine—you go chill with Buzzkillington and I'll see you later," she said as I adjusted the cropped black t-shirt I wore with matching leggings.

"Kay-kay," I singsonged, walking away from her to slip on a jacket and a pair of chunky New Balance's.

I brushed my dark hair that was still in waves from yesterday's blowout, adding some hair oil before spraying some perfume.

Then I grabbed my keys and walked with Kaia out of my apartment.

? ? ?

Zion's apartment was a short ten-minute drive, heading away from downtown to the University District neighborhood.

He liked being closer to school compared to the rest of us.

Then again, computer science is a hard fucking major—one that I'm also under.

I just half-ass it enough to pass because all that matters is the degree, but Zion takes it a little more seriously.

Luckily, Sarai tries to chill him out sort of.

But she's also serious about school so it works for them.

I think that was clear after they met in a study group and hit it off ever since.

Now they've been dating since freshman year and recently moved in together last year during our junior term.

"Miss me?" I said with a smile, walking into the apartment past Zion who had a face mask on.

"I think seeing you all over Twitter was enough for me," Zion sarcastically said as he closed the door.

I rolled my eyes, "But I'm so much more entertaining in person," I pointed out, walking over to the kitchen island to sit down across from Sarai who was preparing lunch.

"I don't know, you were pretty entertaining on Twitter," Sarai said with her usual smile, grabbing the slices of bread from the toaster when they popped up.

I smirked, "The other guy looked worse didn't he?" I joked with her as she began adding ham and cheese to the sandwich.

"You smashed a bottle over his head," Zion laughed, sitting down beside me at the kitchen island.

"He deserved it," I determined with a nonchalant shrug.

"All guys do," Sarai agreed with me until Zion gave her a dramatically narrowed look, "Except for you babe."

Zion lazily raised his brows, "Right," he mumbled, side-eyeing both of us as Sarai cut the sandwich she made in half and then handed the plate to Zion.

"Thank you," Zion said, already reaching for one of the sandwich halves.

Sarai hummed in response, grabbing the bag of cheddar chips.

As she poured some onto his plate, I began eyeing the late lunch she had made, suddenly wanting a sandwich too.

"Yours is next, Libby. Don't worry," Sarai said before I could ask, adding a sliced pickle spear to Zion's plate as well.

"Thank god," I sighed dramatically, leaning back in my chair like I was a famished blue-collared worker coming home from a long shift, "You made that sandwich look divine."

"This shit is divine," Zion mumbled as he chewed the bite of his sandwich that he took, grabbing some of the chips to stuff inside his sandwich.

Fuck, I can't wait to dig into a nice sandwich.

"I can cook, I can clean—"

"But let me tell you, I got this ring," I cut Sarai short, finishing the Cardi B lyrics she altered slightly.

Sarai grabbed the nearby spoon, holding it like a microphone, "Gobble me, swallow me—"

"Alright," Zion cut his girlfriend short with an amused smile, shaking his head at us.

I only laughed along with Sarai—stealing one of Zion's chips as I waited for my sandwich.

I swear I started eating immediately when Sarai set a freshly made sandwich in front of me, basking in the toasted bread and soft cheese and ham.

I also added chips inside of the sandwich for an extra crunch and flavor.

It was heavenly.

At least until I got a text from my mother.

I furrowed my brows, reading over the address she actually sent.

Then I processed the stoic follow-up text—and the fact that she was actually serious about therapy.

Fuck.

"Libs?" Zion suddenly cut into my thoughts, causing my stare to snap away from my phone.

But even then I was still dazed, processing that I would really be going to therapy.

Why can't my mother just focus on her own life?

I'm a grown-ass adult at this point and she's still micromanaging me.

"Are you okay?" Sarai asked, sitting down with us to eat her freshly made sandwich.

I nodded before I could think it through, "Yeah, my mom's just on her bullshit again," I mumbled, sighing as I locked my phone.

I don't technically have to do therapy.

Like I can go but not speak or anything.

Right?

"Mare bear is on your ass huh?" Zion said, using the nickname he made for my mother back when we were kids.

When she was softer and nicer.

All before my dad died.

"Yeah and this shit is so fucking annoying," I said, standing from my seat to clean my half-empty plate off.

I'm not hungry anymore.

"I swear it's a nerve only my mother can press," I sighed, pressing on the trash can pedal to open it and dump the leftover food.

"She scares me honestly," Sarai said as she took a bite of her sandwich.

I lazily raised my brows, "She wishes she scared me," I mumbled dryly, rinsing my plate off in the sink.

"What is she up to now?" Zion curiously asked, popping a cheddar chip into his mouth.

"Therapy," I said blankly, opening the dishwasher and putting my plate in, "She's forcing me to do therapy—like imagine being that self-controlling and absorbed over your public image that you force your child into therapy for your own benefit."

My ears are burning—and so is my face.

"That's fucked up," Sarai said, setting her sandwich down as she chewed the bite she took, "Maybe try to spin it for your own benefit—use therapy as a way to heal instead," she offered.

It was a good idea—a fucking amazing one really.

But it also gives my mother what she wants, a weird polished version of myself.

People are allowed to be messy and make mistakes, especially at my age.

"That's a great idea, Sarai, genuinely," I said, wiping my hands on the dish towel, "But I refuse to give my mother what she fucking wants—so I will be doing the literal opposite."

Sarai pursed her lips into a smile, "I figured that's what you would say," she said as Zion nodded.

"Just don't get so lost in trying to prove a point to her that you lose yourself," Zion warned me, grabbing the glass of water to take a sip.

"I could never lose someone so damn fabulous, Zi," I joked with my signature smirk, throwing the dish towel at him, which landed on his plate.

Zion shook his head, "You and your massive ego, Libs," he said, moving the towel away from his plate which barely had any food left on it.

"You love it," I singsonged, walking towards the door so I could leave.

Mostly because I wanted to rant to Kaia about all of this.

Don't get me wrong, I love Zion—he's been my best friend since I was a child, compared to Kaia who I met in my freshman year of college.

But he doesn't understand it.

He has two loving parents who constantly shower him with love and support.

Meanwhile, Kaia and I bonded over our unavailable parents when we first met.

Except her situation felt more complex, given her mom willingly left her to start a new family when she divorced her dad.

It doesn't help that her dad is a surgeon and always focused on working.

He never made time for Kaia, instead he threw himself further into work when the divorce happened.

Kaia was only ten years old without a mom to help her navigate her teen years—and then she barely had a present dad.

At least my mother taught me the necessary stuff like periods or shaving.

She also got me my first bra.

The only difference compared to other mothers was how serious Maris was, every encounter with her felt like a business meeting.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow if you're free," I said, opening the front door.

"We could do dinner," Sarai suggested, earning a nod from me.

"Dinner it is—text me a good time tomorrow," I said, giving them my flashiest air kiss, "Love you guys."

"Love you," they both said in sync.

Zion suddenly turned around to cast his full attention on me, "Don't do anything crazy, Libs," he said, knowing me entirely too well.

I held my hand dramatically to my heart, "Me? Never," I sarcastically said, flashing him a smile before I walked out of their apartment entirely.

Then I was focused back on this therapy situation, heading down to my car and texting Kaia to come to my place once she was done cleaning.

I swear my nerves were on this weird teetering edge, even as I drove toward the downtown neighborhood, Belltown, where my apartment was.

Kaia had fortunately responded and said she would be over in the next hour, so I went ahead and prepared a quick cocktail that consisted of vodka and cranberry juice.

It was only a little past four, but I really didn't care.

I desperately needed to calm my nerves.

Kaia joined me when she finally got to my place, making herself a glass and sitting beside me on the couch.

"I knew she was going to go through with it," Kaia said, taking a long sip of her wine as I focused on my Macbook.

"She finally had time in her day to think about someone besides herself for once," I mumbled in irritation, clicking the enter button on my keyboard as I reached for my glass on the side table by me.

"I would only think about myself if I was her too," Kaia subtly murmured, which earned a blank look from me.

"Stop mind fucking my mother for once," I said, narrowing my eyes at her when she raised her hands in defense.

"It's hard being a mommy defender, on god," Kaia said, setting her glass down as she glanced over to my laptop screen displaying the Google search I inputted, "Who's this?"

I sighed, glancing back over to the bright screen that displayed numerous articles and pictures of one particular woman, "The hypnotherapist," I mumbled, clicking on one of the recent articles.

Apparently, she's world-renowned.

No surprise there given my mother's standards, but at least the fame that this woman has gives me something to go off of.

Like numerous articles and pictures.

"Monroe Leclair," Kaia read her name from the bold article title that read: ?????? ?????? ?????????? ???????? ????. ??????????????.

I scrolled further down, briefly overviewing the article that quoted various interests that my newly made therapist had outside of work.

It was boring stuff like literature, hiking, expanding her culinary skills, listening to someone called Miles Davis, and—

Bars?

One bar specifically that she pointed out.

I think I can work with that.

"The Archive," I murmured the name aloud, motioning to the article that Kaia read with me.

"I'm drawn to places with personality, she says," Kaia quoted, reading along with me, "Her evenings often consist of a Negroni Sbagliato—I think that's how you fucking say it," she said, furrowing her brows at the unfamiliar drink.

Meanwhile, I read further down in the article, but I was mostly left unimpressed by her philosophical answer about a literal bar.

'It's less about overindulgence and more about restoration. Think of it as a space to unwind and reflect.'

Of course, she refers to drinking as overindulgence.

I can't work with this at all.

She's so fucking boring.

"Therapy is going to suck," I sighed, shaking my head at this boring ass article.

"At least she goes to bars and looks... sort of young?" Kaia said, trying to look at the bright side for my sake.

I clicked the back button, reading over what Google displayed of her, "She's thirty-one," I said, now wondering what she'd be able to relate to.

She won't understand any of my experiences.

"That's not bad," Kaia said, reading over the screen.

I groaned dramatically, "It's so bad—she sounds boring as fuck," I said, already hating this entire situation.

"I mean she's somewhat interesting, Libby," Kaia said, now grabbing my laptop to navigate back to the article, "Maybe check out that bar... Archive I think it was. You might like the environment and maybe she'll be there."

I laughed through my nose, "Right, so I should stalk my therapist?" I sarcastically said, shaking my head at her insane idea.

Sometimes she can be more insane than me.

Keyword: Sometimes.

"No, she wouldn't necessarily know you're going for her—she doesn't even know you yet," Kaia quickly clarified, raising a brow at me, "You said you didn't want to do therapy—maybe this is your way."

I tilted my head, unsure of what she was suggesting right now.

Kaia let out a dramatic sigh at my confusion, "You meet her as someone normal—not as her patient and maybe..." she trailed off when I gave her a skeptical look, "You know flirt with her and then she'll see you at your first session and say it's too inappropriate to continue on as your therapist."

I raised a brow at her idea, finding it smart for once.

"That's actually not a bad idea," I murmured in thought, knowing if I met her on an inappropriate basis she would most likely drop me as a patient.

And my mother definitely won't find the time again to search for another therapist.

"But what I just end up with another fucking therapist?" I pointed out, shaking my head as I weighed the pros and cons of all this.

There's a small possibility my mother would find the time.

"Just do the same thing—over and over again. Try to meet them first," Kaia suggested, nodding a few times at her impulsive idea, "You know I'm right."

I rolled my eyes, mostly because she was right and now giving me a smartass look right now, "Fuck off," I mumbled, reaching for my glass to take another sip of the terrible cocktail.

"Fuck me," Kaia smoothly twisted my words back to me.

"Get me drunk enough and I will," I didn't hesitate to say, setting my glass back down over on the side table.

"Well, there is this bar..." Kaia subtly trailed off.

Which earned a groan from me, "I can't do your insane plan," I said, giving my best friend a narrowed look. It's smart but it's insane. "Besides do you think she would actually drop me as a patient over this?"

Kaia shrugged, "There's only one way to find out," she determined, giving me a knowing look, "It's also the only plan you have other than going to therapy."

She's right.

It is the only way, and I'm pretty good at flirting...

Dr. Leclair also isn't unattractive.

I dramatically sighed, "I guess I'll fucking do it," I determined even if this was an insane plan.

But I'm insane so...

Kaia immediately jumped up from the couch, clapping happily to herself.

"But I'm going alone," I quickly added, knowing that bringing my best friend along might be a recipe for disaster.

Odds are Kaia being there will easily make me fuck this all up, even if she's helping me from afar.

We might both end up laughing and fuck it all up.

"I could sit far away," Kaia offered, following me as I walked out of the living room.

"There's no way," I said, walking into my bedroom as Kaia ran over to plop onto my bed, "I won't be able to be serious with you there, Ki."

I seriously can't believe I'm going through with this.

But at the same time, it's necessary if I want to get out of therapy and piss my mother off.

I can't wait to see how she reacts when she hears about Dr. Leclair dropping me for unsaid reasons.

Kaia sighed as she stretched out on my bed, "I can wear all black to blend in," she said as I walked into my closet.

"Right, because that's not fucking obvious," I sarcastically said, sifting through the different short dresses hanging up.

I don't even know the vibe of this bar and I've been to almost every bar in the downtown radius of Seattle.

"Okay then we'll match outfits," Kaia offered as I continued looking through the different dresses, grabbing the ones I liked and folding them over my arm.

"Either we'll end up in a full laugh attack or shit-faced—you can't come with me," I called out from my closet, now moving over to my jackets hanging up and grabbing a few that would match my dresses.

"Fine, but I want every detail of the night—even if she's not there and it doesn't work out," Kaia said as I walked out of my closet, heading over to my bed where I laid out the different outfit choices.

At least I knew I wanted to wear a dress.

The only issue was which one.

It took me almost thirty minutes to decide on the cheetah slip dress lined with black lace at the hem.

Then I settled on the long black coat, pairing it with black heels and gold jewelry that I set off to the side with the coat.

I had to do my hair and makeup before getting dressed, but planning my outfit was already a step in the right direction.

It didn't take long to pull my hair into a sleek high ponytail, gelling down my edges and curling a few pieces of my hair since yesterday's blowout wasn't as prominent.

I did a natural amount of makeup with faint brown eyeliner, lining my lips in brown and putting on a nude-pink lipgloss over it.

I slid on my heels and jewelry last, grabbing my stiletto-shaped perfume bottle called Good Girl and spraying it on before I slipped my coat on.

The nerves officially hit me upon exiting my apartment with Kaia.

Or more like the realization did.

I'm going to a bar that my therapist mentioned in an article I found from cyber-stalking her, and now I'm purposely going to flirt with her.

It definitely sounds unhinged.

But I want to do this.

I need to if I don't want to sit through therapy.