Not Quite Like the Movies (Otis Milburn x OC)

As Fucking If

(cw: mentions of sexual harassment/assault, the state of the world in 2019: meaning President Trump)

Chapter III

"So...you're starting a sex therapy clinic in the asbestos bathrooms with Otis," Abby repeats the next morning at school, looking at Maeve curiously. "And why are you telling me?"

She shrugs. "Just thought you might want to know. Seeing as how things went with Adam and all."

"I'm sorry he's still an idiot, by the way," Abby says. "But...wow. That's...really cool. Are...are you sure you wanted to tell me that? I mean, I was pretty sure you didn't even like me."

Maeve shrugs again. "I mean, you're a potential customer," she says. "Especially considering how much many money you've probably got on you and how many psychosexual issues you must have, what with the whole 'being American' thing. Besides, you're not the worst or anything."

Abby smiles. "So," she says. "Do you wanna go pick up our 'Best Friends' necklaces at the mall after school today?"

"No, because it's not 2004," Maeve says. "Anyway, we should probably work on our As You Like It presentation."

"Fair enough," Abby says. "So...I mean...very cool. I mean, it's a great idea on your part. And, like, Otis, he's good at the therapy thing. Like really good. Like insanely good for someone our age, you know?"

Maeve smirks. "Yeah, I know," she says. "You fancy him."

"What," Abby gasps. "What? No! That's crazy! No! I don't even know him! I just admire his integrity and kindness and stuff. Fancy him? No. Absolutely not! I can't go around having crushes on guys here. I'm basically an immigrant; any relationship I'd start would have an expiration date. I mean, I might stay for college, or university, or whatever. I'm not, like, an American patriot or anything. But that's irrelevant because I don't have a crush on Otis!"

"Of course not," Maeve says, grinning. "Anyway, I think I've found us a client. Thing is, I'm not exactly the approachable 'mates-dates' type, which is where you come in, Abby. Can you do an intake?"

"A what? Like an interview," Abby asks. "I'm not really a people person, either, Maeve. In sixteen years, the only friends I've made are Adam and maybe you. I don't exactly think people will want to tell me their problems, even if someone else will be giving this advice."

"Which is why you don't talk to the clients," Maeve says. "You just listen, take notes, and then present them to Otis."

"Oh," Abby says, relaxing. "I can definitely take notes. And...wait, what was that last part?"

"Oh, you'll just present those notes to Otis," Maeve repeats. "Which will be easy because you totally don't like him, right?"

"Yup," Abby says. "I can definitely handle this. So, uh, when am I doing this intake?"

Maeve nods towards a park bench, when Olivia is sat nervously waiting. "Right now."
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"Why in God's name am I going to tell someone with a Smurfs lunchbox about my sex life," Olivia asks, wrinkling her nose at the sight of Abby.

"It's vintage," Abby says. "Not that that's relevant to you. I mean, not in a bitchy way, like 'oh, you wouldn't understand.' More like, 'we're here to talk about you today, Olivia, so me rambling on about it isn't of interest.' Anyway, um, what brings you here today? To the bench, I mean? This isn't the appointment."

Maeve facepalms as Olivia sighs and rolls her eyes. "If you tell anyone about this, I'm sending in an anonymous tip to the Sun that Gabriel Hammond's daughter munches carpet," Olivia hisses, lowering her voice. "Got it?"