Page 9 of Mine

Maybe I need therapy myself.

The classroom door opened, and Cal walked in, looking idly for an empty seat. My heart thudded in my throat and my body trembled from his sheer presence; but I stared out of the window, averting my eyes.

I groaned inwardly when I caught a whiff of his delicious scent, confirming that he was close. I stared hard at the front of the class, when the teacher, Mr. Gane, spoke.

"I want you to do this with partners. This project will form a large part of your final mark, so put as much into this as you can guys."

He shuffled his papers, then glanced up at us.

"I want to know the effects of talking therapy. I want you to do this in partners and then present to the class your findings. It is entirely up to you what you talk about, but as true psychology students, you must remain confidential. I have chosen your partners for you, as I want this to be an authentic experience."

He called out names and eventually got to me. "You are with Cal Fallon, Gretchen."

My stomach dropped, and I turned to look for him. There he was, slumped over his desk, sleeping.

In class.

Rosie mouthed ‘oh my God’to me as other girls just glared at me like I was the luckiest girl in the world.

So why did I feel so scared?

I gathered my things as the bell went, walking over to Cal’s desk as I nudged his foot with mine. He woke with a start and looked at me through his sleepy long lashes.

Sweet Jesus and all the orphans save me from this sexual devil.

"What do you want now?" he yawned as I took a deep breath. This was important, this was my grades. Working as a therapist was my absolute dream, and I couldn’t afford to mess this up at all.

"You and I are together," I babbled incoherently as he gazed at me.

"What are you talking about? You are so weird sometimes."

He yawned again, this time leaning back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, causing his t-shirt to ride up and expose the white blonde hairs on his tanned, taut stomach. He caught me staring at him and smirked, pulling his top up more. "Better view?"

I averted my eyes quickly as I exhaled.

"Listen, this is serious. You are my partner for this project. It means a lot to me. We have to do talking therapy..."

He was listening to me, actually listening to me.

Concentrate, Gretchen.

"It’s important to you?" he murmured softly, as my heart cartwheeled through my chest.

His voice, my God.

It sounded like it was taking serious effort for him to speak.

"Okay sweet. I can’t really flunk class either to be honest, but I reckon you won’t need me to do much, will you? You seem like a bright girl."

I blinked in disbelief before I clenched my fists by my sides, narrowing my eyes at him. "I need you to do it with me, asshole. I can’t talk to myself and present alone."

He burst out laughing, a beautiful sound that made me want to weep with longing. He smirked at me again, his blond hair falling into his eyes as he sighed dejectedly.

"Tell you what, Raven. Come around to mine tonight. We will...talk," his eyes ran over me slowly before he dragged his eyes back to my face, which he continued to study. "Can you bring some pizza and beers?" He looked at me hopefully, as I blink myself back to reality.

What the actual hell was wrong with me?

"What?! I don’t even know where you live," I scoffed, scrunching my nose up. "Pizza and beers? Hardly what therapists do, is it?"