The Bottom Club

17 | unravel

THE WOMAN IN front of Wyatt did not wear wing tipped prescription glasses like he'd expected. Her silken black hair fell in loose waves down over her shoulders, and she'd paired a seafoam green turtleneck over plain black Palazzo trousers and wedges.

In a sense, Claire Liu dressed like some socially awkward Hollywood exec's idea of what a therapist would look like, and it immediately set him on edge.

"How are you feeling today, Wyatt?" Claire asked, smiling. She kept her tone casual even as her brown eyes remained alert and assessing.

Wyatt shrugged, self-conscious. "I guess, I'm okay."
They had just finished the introductions, and already he fought against the urge to snatch up his phone and check for notifications, or send off a random text.

"So, tell me about yourself." She leaned slightly forward. "What do you do for fun? Seen any good movies lately?"

He found her easy familiarity off putting. "Is this necessary?"

Claire nodded, not in the least put off. She'd been smiling since he first stepped into the office. Surely that had to count as a red flag.

"We'll need to acquaint ourselves with one other."

"Basically, I tell you what I like and it helps you determine just how screwed in the head I am."

It had been meant to come out as a joke, but instead he sounded defensive and this put him even more on edge.

"No." Her expression remained calm as she spoke. "I wouldn't say that. Think of it as me trying to get a baseline on who you are so I can help you."

Wyatt scoffed, and in answer to this Claire simply cocked her head at an angle, lifting a brow.

"Do you have something to say?" she asked looking down, and Wyatt realized he'd been fidgeting―his fingers especially.

He immediately stopped.

"Not really. And I―I don't have a lot of interests."

His words sputtered off to nothing, and for a moment the room was silent enough that Wyatt heard the sounds he made as he breathed.

"And how are you?" Claire asked when it became evident that he would not speak.

"I'm okay." The words were clipped, and Wyatt licked his lips refusing to meet her eyes. "To be honest I've never been better, and―"

His phone's screen lit up with a text message from his best friend, and his words trailed off as he read.

TOBI: We always knew you were crazy bro either way try to go easy on your shrink.   

Wyatt could sense her eyes on him as he shot off a quick reply, and he sat up as soon as he was done.

"Actually, I don't think I should be here," he said, stopping to gather up his stuff as he got up.

"Why do you say so?" Claire asked, and Wyatt opened his mouth to say something, but another text from Tobi came in.

TOBI: off to soccer practice. Talk later.

He looked up at Claire, shook his head in answer and turned to leave, half expecting her to say something that would stop him in his tracks à la coming-of-age movie, but her gaze bore holes into the back of his skull as he walked away from her.

Wyatt pushed open the door, stepping out to the lobby where he found Regan waiting, and his steps faltered as the older man looked up from a brochure he'd been engrossed in.

"Has it been an hour?" Regan asked, blinking up at him in surprise, and as he pulled out his phone to confirm Wyatt answered.

"It's not the right fit for me."