𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲 | 𝟏𝟖+

LILY

027. SELF-AWARENESS

"I wanna see a therapist."

Fiddling with my thumbs as I stare off at pictures behind Royces' head, I couldn't help but notice the lack of parental representation, besides his mom. A story for another time, I tell myself. At least in the late future, we'd have a relatable topic to speak of past the awkwardness of obvious sexual tension.

"Okay," he says, not once looking away from his ongoing typing.

I frown at the lack of interest. "Okay? That's it?"

Those addicting molten eyes glance up for a second, analyzing my face before hesitating to look away. "That's it," Royce responds quickly and quietly, his thumb grazing his plump lower lip.

Shifting in the seat, I gaze out the window and towards the gloomy clouds. You know that weird feeling you get when you delusionally tell yourself you're the one controlling the weather because of your mood? The light sprinkle of rain hitting the glass had me thinking that I did something wrong. "So no, "therapy is bullshit" or "You're only wanting therapy to see men" crap?"

Royce appeared agitated beyond words and I wondered if I said something to piss him off. Which, I did. But not in the way I was expecting. He comes around the desk and while doing so turns the chair with me still in it to face him. Royce leans over, grasping both armrests before sighing. I felt vulnerable. Something within me was not letting go of what Xavier had convinced me all those months ago, and I hated myself for it. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" he asks, tilting his head as if he already knew the answer.

I shrug, wanting to become one with the chair under his heavy gaze. "Xavier said-"

He shakes his head. "I don't give a shit about what that fucker told you." he suddenly squats down, hands grasping my knees. "If you want a therapist, I'll find you the best one in New York. My only ask is that you have your sessions here."

I can agree with that. I nod slowly, releasing a sigh of relief after having it build up in my lung capacity. The breath builds back up once more when Royce gets close, our noses practically touching. His gaze flickers between my eyes and lips before staying there. "But if any supposed male therapist you choose tries anything, the only next session will be at their funeral service appointment," he mumbles before placing a delicate kiss on the corner of my mouth. "And I'm willing to pay for that too."

I gape at him, completely breathless at the pure but subtle possessiveness between his words. And not once did I hate it-in fact, I'd invite it again. Perhaps have it over for dinner and marry it to seal the deal. "Okay," I squeak, cursing myself for my shock.

Royce continues typing on his computer before something prints and just like that I already have a list of the top 5 therapists in New York within seconds. This was going to be great.

***

This was one of the worst things I've ever done besides engaging Xavier.

I sat on the couch in a spare office that Royce has let me dedicate to my incoming therapy sessions and I was sweating bullets. I hadn't had a therapist much less considered it since a year ago when shit really hit the fan. After reviewing my options, I finally settled for the therapist I wanted, and to make matters worst, he was too perfect. We hadn't even started the session and I could already feel the possibility of sweat marks through my cardigan. I observe him for a moment, taking in the way he jots down on his pad, the way he adjusts his wristwatch and the way he crossed his legs poshly before peering up through his round glasses.

I was in fucking trouble.

Jason Luther had been an exceptional choice. He graduated from high-end academies, majored in, and successfully got his master's in psychology at the age of 24. He has a girlfriend, 2 cats and worked at a well-known company for its amazing mental health rep. Safe to say he was an accomplished young man and knew what the fuck he was doing and that scared me. That means he'd eventually read me for filth.