Page 36 of The Dating Ban (Mind the Corbin Brothers #1)

Overthinking Drama Queen

Ivy

I sit across from Pee-Pee, the familiar calm of her office doing little to settle the nerves buzzing in my chest. The end of the dating ban is just days away, and I can’t help but feel like I’m about to be shoved out of a safe little bubble.

“So, Ivy,” Phyllis says, her voice soft but steady, “the dating ban is almost over. How are you feeling about that?”

I let out a long sigh, folding my arms across my chest. “Honestly? It all went wrong. Every part of it.”

Pee-Pee raises an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “Really? All of it? Sounds a bit dramatic to me. I wouldn’t be so quick to call it a disaster.”

I’m about to protest, but she holds up a hand, clearly ready to continue. “You’ve told me about the yoga and the clay. Those didn’t go perfectly, but they also didn’t go as badly as you’re making them sound. You’ve made progress. ”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Yeah, I guess yoga was a bit better than I thought. I still look like a drunk flamingo, but I’m... okay with it. And the gnome army? Well, it's growing, and I’m kind of proud of them.”

Pee-Pee nods approvingly. “Your gnome army sounds like a victory in itself. And yoga, even with the stumbling, is a win. You’re allowing yourself to try, Ivy. You’re getting to know your limits.”

I let out a small, reluctant chuckle, my shoulders loosening just a fraction.

“I guess that’s true. And the gnome army is definitely a force to be reckoned with now.

” I pause, staring down at my hands. “But none of that changes the fact that I feel like I’ve spent three months in a holding pattern.

And now, I’m about to step back into a world I was trying to avoid. ”

Pee-Pee studies me for a moment, her eyes gentle but knowing. “You’ve spent three months working on you, Ivy. Not avoiding anything but learning how to face it. You don’t have to throw yourself back into dating just because the ban’s over. What you choose to do next is still up to you.”

The weight of that statement sinks in, heavy and oddly comforting. I know she’s right, but still…

“But the whole point was to get back into it, right? Not just sit here making gnomes and doing tree pose in my living room.”

“Not exactly,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “The point was for you to reconnect with yourself first. To unlearn some of those habits that keep you stuck in patterns that aren’t working for you. Whether that means diving back into dating or not, that’s up to you. ”

My brain races. Do I dive back in? Do I even want to?

The thought of Theo pops into my mind, but I shake it off quickly.

It’s still fresh. Too fresh. “I don’t know if I’m ready.

I’ve gone this long without it. And honestly, every time I even think about Theo, it’s like…

a big mess of feelings that make zero sense. ”

“So, what’s stopping you from feeling those feelings and letting them just be?”

I lean forward in my chair, frustrated. “Because what if I am wrong and I ruin a good thing we are having?”

She nods, her expression soft. “Ivy, sometimes it’s not about having it all figured out. Sometimes it’s about being with the uncertainty and letting it guide you, not control you. You don’t have to make a decision today. Just... let yourself be where you are.”

“Ugh,” I groan, slumping back in the chair. “Why is it that every time I talk to you, I feel like I’m a drama queen? You make things sound so simple.”

Pee-Pee laughs softly, a sound full of warmth and understanding. “It’s not simple, Ivy. It’s just uncomplicated. We make it harder than it needs to be by overthinking everything.”

I bite my lip, mulling over her words. “Maybe that’s part of the problem. I’ve been thinking about it all. Every moment, every possibility, every outcome. The future, the past, what I’m supposed to do next. It’s exhausting.”

“That’s why you took the ban, remember?” Phyllis says gently. “To stop the spiral, to create space for you to breathe without all that pressure.”

I nod slowly, feeling the weight of it all settle into my bones. “Yeah, I remember. I just… I guess I didn’t expect it to be this hard to know what is me and what is me going down the wrong path again.”

“And that’s okay,” she says. “It’s okay to not have everything figured out, Ivy. But you’ve made more progress than you realize. You’re here. You’re aware of your feelings, and you’re willing to look at them. That’s the work.”

I close my eyes, taking in her words, but they don’t quite sink in yet. “I just wish I could just flip a switch and everything makes sense.”

She smiles softly. “But you don’t need to flip any switches. You’re already doing the hard work. And sometimes the most important thing you can do is let the answers come to you, instead of chasing them.”

I let out a breath, feeling a little lighter. “So, what, you’re saying I should just… let things unfold?”

“Exactly,” she says. “And if Theo is part of that unfolding, let it happen. But don’t force anything. Let yourself just be, Ivy. That’s where the real growth happens.”

I nod, the idea of just being a little more foreign to me than I care to admit. But before I can say anything, I blurt out, “Theo said he’ll ask me out proper when the ban is over.”

Pee-Pee gives me that same calm look, waiting for me to continue. I’m suddenly nervous, like I’ve said too much too soon. But it’s already out there.

Pee-Pee raises an eyebrow. “That’s... a good thing, right?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, unsure where to start.

“It is, but…” I hesitate. “I don’t know.

I want to say yes. I really want to say yes.

But part of me is scared that I’m just about to fall right back into the same pattern I’ve always had with guys.

I don’t want to be the kind of person wh o dates for the sake of dating, you know?

I don’t want to fall into that serial dating thing where I’m always just bouncing between guys, never really having anything real.

I want a relationship. I don’t want to waste my time with someone who isn’t looking for the same thing.

And what if Theo... what if he’s not a relationship guy? ”

Pee-Pee silence stretches for a few beats, and I feel my heart thudding in my chest. It’s the first time I’ve really said it out loud.

The fear that maybe I’m not just overthinking this—I’m overprotecting myself from something I actually want, because I’m terrified I’ll end up alone again if I don’t keep my walls up.

Pee-Pee looks at me with an expression that’s equal parts understanding and challenge. “So, you’re afraid of the possibility that Theo might not be the one, and you’re thinking that means you should avoid even trying.”

I nod, unable to stop the frown forming on my face. “Exactly. I don’t want to waste time. I’m not in a place to just date around anymore. I’m not looking for flings. I want something real, something that has the potential to last.”

Phyllis crosses her arms, settling back in her chair as she considers me.

“Ivy, it’s okay to want a relationship. But you can’t control whether or not it happens with someone.

Not even with Theo. All you can control is how you show up to it.

What kind of relationship are you willing to build, and how much are you willing to let go of the fear that it might not look the way you expect? ”

I stare at her, processing what she’s saying. “But what if I let myself go for it and he doesn’t want what I want? What if I get invested and then end up with nothing? ”

“Then you’ll have learned something,” Pee-Pee says.

“You’ll have learned something about yourself, about him, about what you truly need.

And you’ll have grown. But you can’t sit on the sidelines forever waiting for the perfect person to fall into your lap.

Relationships—real ones—take risks. But you don’t have to go in blind.

You can be honest with Theo. Talk about what you both want, what you’re both ready for.

And the fact that you are even thinking about all of this, Ivy, I am very proud of you because you have come a very long way.

Three months ago, you wouldn’t have worried about any of this. ”

I let her words sink in, and the quiet ache in my chest grows a little less sharp. “I don’t want to keep holding myself back from something real, just because I’m scared of it not working out.”

“No one wants to be disappointed, Ivy. But disappointment doesn’t always mean failure,” Pee-Pee says gently.

“Sometimes it just means you were brave enough to try. It doesn’t mean the story is over.

It just means you’ve learned something, and you can carry that with you moving forward.

How do you know what he wants if you don’t ask him?

A lot of miscommunication happens when we make assumptions about what another person feels or thinks without giving them a chance to express themselves. ”

I nod slowly, the idea of being vulnerable with Theo still making my stomach twist, but less terrifying than before. “Yeah. I guess I’m not really giving him a chance to tell me what he wants if I don’t let him in.”

Pee-Pee smiles, standing as the session comes to a close.

“Exactly. You won’t know what’s possible until you let it happen.

Trust yourself, Ivy. Trust that you’ll make the right decision.

And if it doesn’t work out, you’ll be okay.

If you have an open conversation and he doesn’t feel the same way, it doesn’t mean you have to lose him as a friend. ”

She is right. In my head it’s been all or nothing, but we can handle this like adults.

As I leave her office, I feel lighter, even though the uncertainty is still there.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the fear of falling into old patterns isn’t something to avoid, but something to face head-on.

I need to trust myself enough to see where this could go with Theo—without letting fear decide for me.

A bra flies across the room and lands on the lamp. The lamp doesn’t deserve this, but I’m past caring.

My wardrobe’s been ransacked. It looks like a stylist had a tantrum and stormed off halfway through a styling session.

There’s a silk blouse crumpled in defeat on the floor, two dresses that scream “please take me seriously”, and one particularly dangerous jumpsuit I only wore once, when I briefly lost touch with reality.

I’m down to the leather trousers.

They gleam up at me from the bed with the smug confidence of clothing that knows it’s a poor choice.

Still, I tug them on, one determined hop at a time.

They make a noise like cling film and immediately begin the slow, hungry crawl north.

I wiggle. They wiggle back. My arse is now in a fight for dominance and losing.

“Perfect,” I mutter. “Very subtle. Nothing says romance like synthetic thigh friction. ”

Top next. I try on one that feels a bit too low-cut, but I catch my reflection and pause. The neckline is... working. There’s cleavage, yes, but tasteful cleavage. Cleavage with purpose. I stand sideways and try to decide if I look effortlessly cool or like I’ve been vacuum-sealed.

In the mirror, I adjust a strand of hair, then pause again.

What if he kisses me?

The thought appears out of nowhere and sends a ridiculous thrill through my chest. I grin—actually grin —at myself like a teenager with a crush.

What if this is it? What if it goes brilliantly?

We laugh, we eat, we kiss, I somehow don’t spill wine on anything, and he looks at me like I’m not just Lucy’s babysitter or the woman who baked cat vomit.

I pin my hair up—loosely, with one of those clips that makes it look like I didn’t try, when really it took me three attempts and mild swearing. Then makeup: a bit of eyeliner, mascara, that lipstick Christa said makes me look "dangerously capable". Whatever that means.

I step back from the mirror again, catch a glimpse of myself with flushed cheeks, slightly glossy lips, hair up just so—and for a second, I feel it.

That buzz. That ridiculous, fizzy kind of excitement I haven’t had in years. The good kind. The what if this is the start of something kind.

What if the date is perfect? What if he kisses me and it’s everything I hoped? What if this isn’t just a nice night out, but the first line in a completely new chapter?

What if I finally get it right?

I press my palms to my cheeks to cool them down, still grinning like a lunatic. My heart’s pounding. In a good way. I feel electric. Alive .

And then, because my brain is me , the doubts start to creep in.

What if it’s awkward? What if we run out of things to say? What if I get spinach in my teeth or laugh-snort in that unfortunate way I do when I get nervous and then try to cover it up by over-explaining and oh God—

I suddenly can’t remember how to walk in the trousers. The fabric is climbing again, heading somewhere no synthetic blend should go. I tug at it, unsuccessfully, and glance at the clock.

Still just enough time to cancel.

No , I tell myself. Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve got this.

But my chest’s gone tight. My stomach’s staging a protest. My hair suddenly looks too “done”. My top feels too tight. My cleavage is trying to make a statement I’m no longer sure I believe in.

I grab my phone, scroll to Christa, and hit call.

Voicemail.

Of course.

I take a shaky breath and launch into it.

“Christa, it’s me. I’m dressed. I look—honestly, I look sort of amazing, but also possibly like I’m going clubbing in 2013, and I’m officially freaking out.”

I start pacing.

“I’m going on an actual date. With Theo.

The trousers are at war with my arse, the top is making bold choices with my boobs, and I’ve just realised I have absolutely no idea how to behave like a calm, collected adult woman who goes on dates without saying things like ‘Did you know sloths can hold their breath longer than dolphins?’ in moments of silence. ”

I stop in front of the mirror again, trying not to hyperventilate.

“Anyway, if you get this and you hear I've fled the country, you'll know why. I’m wearing the cursed trousers. Please call me back and talk me down.”

I hang up.

Silence.

Well.

No more stalling.

I grab my bag, dab the tiniest bit of sweat from the back of my neck, give the trousers one last tug of decency, and open the door.

Fine. I’m going.

Probably to my doom.

But also, maybe to something wonderful.

And either way—I’ve got lip gloss, a debit card, and emergency chocolate in my bag. That’s enough to survive anything.

Probably.