FIXED ON YOU TRILOGY: Jayoncé ❤️ 18+🥵🔥

Chapter Thirteen: Compulsion

  I stalked Shawn online again that night.

  Not because I felt I needed to learn more about him, but because the distance between us felt so overwhelmingly vast. It was a familiar feeling, one I’d felt with guys I’d dated only to discover later, in therapy, that I’d been overreacting. But this was different. We were apart for real, not only in my psycho head. And I couldn’t bear it. I had to get closer to him in whatever way I could, even if it was only via the Internet.

  There were already new blog posts and news feeds from the fashion show. The event had great reviews, and more money had been raised than projected. I flicked through the pictures of models, a little wistful that I had missed that part of the day. And there were pictures of me with Shawn, kissing outside the limo when we were on our way in. I stared at those the longest, saving one particularly close shot as my wallpaper desktop.

  Most of my stalking, however, was on Carter Industries and its business ties in Cincinnati. I searched way longer than I should have, trying to deduce if Shawn really was going there, and finding nothing helpful. Did he really have business or did he just want distance?

  It shouldn’t have mattered. Our next assignment wasn’t until Friday. But the need to know ate at me, consuming my mind until I’d spent hours exhausting every avenue of research I could think of.

  At least I stopped myself at online stalking and checking my phone over and over for a response from him. I didn’t call the airport to see if a Carter Industries jet had taken off—that wouldn’t have been healthy behavior.

  Besides, I had no idea what airport.

  ***

  I awoke the next afternoon with a knot in my chest. My muscles felt jittery even before I’d had any coffee. They were my usual anxiety symptoms, but I couldn’t say for sure what had caused the attack. Worry about my meeting with Kendrick? Or stress about Shawn?

  In an attempt to relax, I popped in a yoga DVD before I had to get ready to leave. The narrowed focus and rhythmic breathing loosened me for the most part, but the edge still lingered.

  I spent longer than usual prettying up for my meeting at the club. Not for Kendrick, but for myself. Sometimes looking good made me feel good, and I was willing to try every trick in the book to get rid of the tension. But no matter what I did, the anxiety remained, buzzing through my veins with a steady electric current.

  It was simply nerves about the promotion, I told myself. I’d feel better after meeting with Kendrick.

  As I was on my way out the door, I got an incoming text. I checked it eagerly. But it wasn’t from Shawn. It was from Kendrick.

  “Something’s come up,” it said. “Reschedule for Wednesday at 7.”

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  Then I knew. That the stressing had nothing to do with Kendrick, because moving our meeting did nothing to change the way I felt. I should have felt relief, or a spike in the tension since it would have to be dragged out two more days. Also, I should have wondered about what had come up. Kendrick and I were close enough that he’d tell me. But I had no desire to ask.

  Shawn. It was Shawn that kept coming to mind. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he thinking of me?

  I texted back a confirmation to Kendrick and paced my apartment, trying to decide the best way to get my ex-lover off the brain. I needed to catch a group. Checking online, I made sure there was still an Addicts Anonymous session scheduled on Monday afternoons. There was, but I had plenty of time before the session started.

  I could run. With Jordan driving me around so much, a bit of aerobic activity would be good for me. I changed into shorts and a tank top, put on my running shoes and started out.

  The run helped clear my head, the endorphins flowing through my body making me feel better and more confident. And invincible. Which was why when I found my route had led me to the Carter Industries building, I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t a big deal to be there. Especially since I only went inside to use the bathroom in the lobby before resuming my run.

  I felt so good from the exercise that I decided to skip therapy all together and keep on with my run for a while longer, continuing to the Lincoln tunnel before turning around. I passed the Carter Industries building again on my way back. And since I knew there was a drinking fountain inside, I went in again, this time lingering a bit in the lobby, scoping out the elevators looking for some sign of Shawn in the building. I managed to make myself leave before I slipped into a car and pushed the button for the top floor.

  The next day I didn’t possess as much strength.

  Not only did I return to the building three times, but each time I rode the elevator. I told myself it couldn’t be called stalking exactly, because Shawn was out of town—though I had yet to accept that as truth—and because I never actually pushed the button for Shawn ’s floor. Instead, I let fate take me wherever, journeying with whoever stepped on to whatever floor they were going to, then forcing myself to return back to the lobby. It felt like elevator roulette—if the car took me to the top floor, then I was meant to stop by Shawn ’s office. But each time, I missed the bullet, the other passengers never choosing his floor.

  Until Wednesday.

  Even though my shift the night before had gotten me home at almost six in the morning, I was awake and back at the Carter building before one that afternoon. My first ride took me only to the fifth floor. When the passenger stepped out and the doors closed, I leaned against the back of the car and sighed, knowing the car would return to the lobby if I didn’t push a button.

  But instead of going down, the car went up. Someone must have summoned it from a floor above. I held my breath as I watched the needle rise higher and higher. Then it stopped on the top floor. Not the secret top floor that required a code and would take me to the loft, but to the floor that Shawn ’s office was located on. I braced myself for what I’d see when the doors opened, hoping I’d learn something by peeking around whoever stepped into the car with me.

  But I wasn’t prepared for the sight that met me. Three men in suits were laughing and joking as the doors parted. And with them was Shawn.

  “Beyoncé.” His voice was even as always, with only a hint of surprise in his tone.

  I froze, my body unable to move, my mouth unable to speak. A wave of jumbled emotions ran through me: I was happy to see him, yet petrified. Enraged to find he was in town after all and somewhat satisfied that my suspicions had been right.

  Shawn held a hand out to me. Automatically my arm moved to take it, and he pulled me out to stand next to him. He turned to the men with him. “Gentlemen, my girlfriend has decided to surprise me with a visit to my office.”

  I managed to smile before pinning my stare to my gray running shoes.

  “That can never be good,” one of the other men said and they all laughed. “Well, we’ll leave you to her then. Thank you again for meeting with us.”

  I barely heard the goodbyes the men exchanged with Shawn before they took my place in the car, and how I made it the short distance to his office was beyond me. I was numb, my mind consumed with the fact that I was someplace that I shouldn’t be.

  The office doors clicked closed behind us. Shawn must have held my hand the whole way there, but I didn’t notice until he dropped it and walked away from me. “What are you doing here, Beyoncé?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, but the absence of anger in his tone brought me out of my haze. I could get myself through this. I’d been good at talking my way through things in my obsessive days. I’d explain and he’d believe me and all would be fine.

  But I didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

  It was right then that I’d realized the severity of what I’d been doing: I’d been stalking. For the first time in years. I’d fallen off the wagon with probably the worst person I could fall off the wagon with. If I’d thought restraining orders and lawsuits had been a nightmare when they were filed by Ian, my last object of obsession, imagine what it would be like with a powerful man like Shawn.

  But even more than that—recovering from my addiction to Ian had been hard, but possible. Shawn, though…I couldn’t even bear to think about not being around him in some way or another, no matter what the context.

  Shawn was waiting for my answer. I could feel him studying me. I hugged my arms around myself and took a deep breath. “I, uh, I wanted to see if you were back.”

  I nearly sobbed with the honesty of my statement, but if Shawn noticed, he didn’t let on. “I got back late last night. You could have called. Or texted.”

  My mind reached for the steps of talking through unhealthy behaviors. I’d taught them many times in therapy. Communicate your fears openly and honestly. Closing my eyes to stymie my tears, I said, “You don’t answer my texts.”

  “I didn’t answer one text.”

  I opened my eyes and found him staring at me intently as he leaned against his desk. I brushed away the one tear that had escaped down my cheek and met his gaze. “It was my only text.”

  I heard how it sounded. Ridiculous, an overreaction. We weren’t together. Why should he answer my texts? He had to be regretting his choice for a pretend girlfriend now. Now that he saw the extent of my crazy.

  Our eyes remained locked, but I could read nothing in his expression. It seemed like forever before his face softened and he said, “I didn’t realize it was important to you. I’ll make a better effort to respond in the future.”

  My mouth fell open.

  He straightened to a standing position. “But you can’t just come here like this. How do you think it looks to have my girlfriend wandering around the lobby, riding the elevators when I’m not even in town?”

  “How did you…?”

  “I pay people to know things, Beyoncé.”

  He knew. Of course, he knew. I’d decided to communicate honestly, but had hoped I didn’t have to be that honest. That he knew I’d been by his office several times, that I’d roamed the building…I was humiliated.

  More tears fell. “I…I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Please, don’t do it again.” He was stern, but did I detect a note of compassion?

  His reaction was all wrong. He should have been more pissed, more freaked out. “Why are you being like this?”

  His brow wrinkled. “Like what?”

  “I’ve fucked things up, Shawn! You should be calling your security to escort me out. I’m a mess and you’re taking it all in stride.” The tears fell fast now. There was no stopping them.

  His face eased and he stepped toward me. “No,” he said softly, his tone embracing me even though his arms didn’t. “That’s what I meant about being around someone who understood. I know about compulsion. I

know about having to do things you know you shouldn’t.”

  He wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb, his hand resting there longer than necessary. “When you feel you can’t help yourself, talk to me first.”

  The anxious knot I’d felt for days dissolved under his words. Had he been right? Could we help each other through our pains? Could we fix each other?

  I looked into his eyes and wanted again to believe as he did, this time much closer to saying that I did.

  But before I could say anything, his secretary’s voice boomed through the office. “Mr. Carter, your one-thirty is here.”

  Shawn sighed, dropping his hand from my face. “I apologize for cutting this short, Beyoncé, but I have another meeting now. And I’m leaving again this evening.”

  My spirits sank. I didn’t know if I believed him, but I did know I didn’t want distance between us. That was what had spurred my obsessive episode this week. Well, he’d asked for me to share... “I hate that you’re leaving. It makes me feel a little distraught.” A lot distraught, actually.

  His eyes lit up. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He took my hand and squeezed. “Join me tomorrow night for the symphony.”

  My heart flip-flopped. “Yes.”

  “I’ll pick you up at six. Wear the dress.”

  ***

  I made it to group that afternoon before meeting with Kendrick. I’d made a mistake, but Shawn was willing to look past it. More than willing. And that made it so much easier to believe that I wasn’t doomed to be totally freaky with him. I had to try to stay well.

  Not comfortable telling my situation to everyone, not when people might know about my connection with Shawn, I was vague on my turn to share. “I’m…I’ve slipped a bit.”

  It was an accurate enough statement. My behavior hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. But every journey starts with a single step—even the journeys we shouldn’t be taking, and at the rate I’d been going that week, I’d be well on my way down the obsession road before I had a grip.

Lauren nodded sympathetically. “When you get home, I’d like you to write out a list of your recent negative behaviors, including behaviors you only thought about engaging in. Then come up with a list of healthy behaviors you can substitute whenever you feel compelled to engage in an unhealthy one. Do you need any help?”

  “No.” I’d done this before. More than once. I still had all the substitute behaviors memorized from the last time I’d gone off the wagon: Run, do yoga, take an extra shift at work, concentrate on school, visit Idris. Obviously, my list needed updating.

  “Good. You know your patterns. Are you still journaling?”

  “I haven’t in a while.” A long while.

  Lauren smiled. “I recommend you start again.” She was always good for a swift kick in the butt.

  “Okay.” And I would. But something told me that of all the suggestions I’d received that day, the best one had been from Shawn himself: When you can’t help yourself, talk to me.

  I was quiet the rest of the session, replaying an old favorite quote over and over in my head, committing myself to modifying my actions. If there is no struggle, there is no progress. If there is no struggle, there is no progress.

  I felt better after group, stronger and my head clear. As Jordan drove me to work later, I added to my substitute behaviors list, including making it a goal to watch every title on the AFI’s 100 Greatest Movies list and continue reading the top one hundred books on GreatestBooks.org.

  My good mood and healthy attitude gave me courage to send a text to Shawn before I walked into my meeting with Kendrick that evening. “Do you really have to leave town again?”

  This time I got a response instantly. “I’m afraid so.”

  He’d listened—had adjusted his behavior knowing how it affected me to not get a response. Before I could decide how to answer, he sent another. “But I’m glad to know you’re thinking of me.”

  A tingle spread through my body. “Always,” I told him before I could stop myself. What was I doing? What were we doing? We weren’t lovers anymore—were we becoming something else? Something more like friends? Friends who flirted by text?

  Whatever we were doing, it felt good. So good that I followed my last text with another more dangerous message. “Are you thinking of me?”

  Kendrick opened his office door, interrupting my feel-good moment before Shawn had a chance to reply. “Bey, come in.” Kendrick was stiff and his voice tight.

  His serious demeanor made me stuff my phone in my bra. “Is everything okay?” I thought back to his message from Monday. “What came up the other day?” I asked as I took a seat in front of his desk.

  “This.” Kendrick threw a folded newspaper down on the desk before sitting in his chair across from me.

  Puzzled, I picked up the newspaper and scanned for what might have put him in such a foul mood. And there it was, in full color on the top of Monday’s society section, the picture of Shawn and me kissing.

  “Oh. That.” Kendrick had been the one person I’d been scared of telling. I feared he’d jump to conclusions. The wrong conclusions.

  And he did. “You want to explain this, Bey?” He stood and began pacing, not pausing long enough for me to answer. “Because I’ll tell you what it looks like. It looks like you were so eager to get your precious promotion that, when you couldn’t get it by playing me, you chose to go after the next guy who could get you what you wanted.”

  I put a hand out in front of me as if to stop him from saying what he was saying. “It’s not like that, Kendrick. It was never like that.” How could he think that I’d liked him for a promotion? That I’d been insincere when I’d been with him?

  “It wasn’t?” He stopped pacing and leaned toward me, his palms on his desk. “Then tell me what it was like, Bey.”

  “It’s…I can’t…” My floundering was exacerbated by the buzz of my phone against my breast. I knew it was a reply from Shawn, and I longed to read it. But there was no way I could right then. Not with Kendrick raging in front of me.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He straightened, a look of utter disgust joining the scowl on his face. “Now I’m forced to move you up, implement your ideas, never mind that I was going to anyway, or fear for my own job.” He laughed dryly. “I’m probably grooming you to take my place.”

  “Kendrick, no.” This was worse than I had imagined. I didn’t want him to think I ever wanted to take his job from him. I had imagined us running The Sky Launch together. Though the romantic part of that duo was no longer appealing to me, I still very much wanted the business duo.

  “Does Carter have any idea about me?”

  “Kendrick, don’t.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Does he know that you’re The Sky Launch slut?”

  That was the turning point. Instead of feeling bad, I got pissed. And when I got pissed, I used all the weapons in my arsenal. “If you really believe what you’re saying, Kendrick, that I have some power over Shawn, then maybe you should be a little more careful how you talk to me.”

  His eyebrows lifted, surprised by my steady tone and pointed words.

  “Now, sit down,” I continued, “and we can talk about this in a civilized manner.” I waited while he plopped down in his chair. “Good. Let me see if I have this right—you think I’m dating Shawn so that I could get a promotion at the club. A promotion that you’ve basically promised me because of my hard work here over the past few years. A promotion I earned before you and I even kissed.”

  “Why else would you be dating him?” His words were challenging, but the fight had left.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m dating Shawn because…” I was on-duty in that moment, but my reason was honest. “Because I like him. And he likes me. We connect. And, even before our first date, he spelled out to me that he would have nothing to do with helping me move up here. And I accepted it because I knew I could get the manager title on my merit alone. Tell me, did Shawn instruct you to promote me?”

  His shoulders slumped. “No.”

  “And were you going to offer me the position before you saw our picture in the paper?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what are we even talking about?”

  He shook his head and shrugged. “Bey …I…I don’t know what to say. I guess I jumped to conclusions. I said things that were uncalled for.”

  “I get it. I knew it would look that way.” I let out a silent breath, relieved that he’d calmed so easily. “Maybe I should have said something earlier.”

  Kendrick shook his head. Then he met my eyes directly. “No, I was acting jealous. And I didn’t have any right to. I’m the one who ended things.”

  “It’s okay.” I looked away. His jealous remark hung in the air between us. Once upon a time I would have jumped all over it. Now, it felt weird to have him feeling things about me.

  So, I changed the subject. “Um, about the promotion…did you say you were giving it to me?”

  He smiled. “Yes. Of course, I am. Carter didn’t tell you?”

  Up until recently, Shawn and I didn’t talk much when we were together. But I wasn’t telling that to Kendrick. “He really didn’t.”

  “Good. I’m glad to be the first to tell you. Congratulations.” He outstretched his hand to shake mine then took it back. “What am I doing? Come here.” We both stood and met at the side of his desk for a hug.

  I pulled away first.

  He noticed, covering by jumping into work mode. “And we’re taking your suggestions. We’ll extend the club hours starting in August. Which means you have a lot of work to do to get the place ready. Plan on lots of marketing and promotional meetings.”

  I put a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Kendrick.”

  “You deserve it.”

  We spent the hours until the club opened working on a business plan. It was distracting and exhilarating and exactly what my obsessive mind needed. Work would automatically make it to my list of substitute behaviors. I now had a salaried position and many of my shifts would take place during daylight hours. Wouldn’t Idris be proud?

  When the club opened, I shadowed Kendrick, learning more managerial duties. By the time we closed, I was exhausted and grateful that I didn’t have to walk home.

  It wasn’t until Jordan was helping me into the backseat of the car after my shift was over that I remembered to read my text from Shawn. “Always,” it said.

  My heart stopped. I reread my text to him to be sure I correctly remembered what I’d sent. I did. I had asked him if he was thinking of me, and his answer was Always