Chances are...

Post-Kiss-Trauma

Breathe. Breathe.
Not your first rodeo.
Breathe.
"You have never been this nervous before. I am actually starting to give more credit to Chance. Getting you all jumpy and shit." I could see Killian's mocking reflection in the mirror.
"You know what a-hole. Go do something. I don't even know why you're here. I'm leaving." I said with vehemence. Seriously the nerve on this guy!
Should I add more lipstick? Mascara ? Lip liner?
Dude snap out of it! Seriously! Not your first time !
"CELINE! THE DUDE'S HERE!" Killian yelled from the living room.
"Coming!"

ventricular contractions. In premature ventricular contraction, the ventricles contract before they maximally fill with blood making circulation inefficient.

Yeah people. My heart skipped a beat.

"Hey."

"Hey" he replied.
For two people that previously lip-locked, that ain't too much.

"Shall we get going?" He suggested.

"Yeah sure. Let me get my purse." I went straight to room, checked my reflection in the mirror once more, then exited my room with my purse and my remaining shield.

I like this guy. Got to keep my guard up. Let it down once before. Wasn't pretty.

"Ready!" As I came out of my room and headed towards the living room where he was.
He half smiled as I approached him, "we should get going."
We talked on the way to wherever he was taking me.
There better be food there.
I learned so much about him, time he spent in Africa providing medical care in Kongo, Nigeria, Cameron, and other countries I can't count. Also the time he spent in relief organizations in Syria and boarders of Turkey in refugee camps.
He was a bonafide modern age hero.
I was never overly charitable, only just.
Occasional fundraiser here and there, volunteering a bit in homeless shelters. I was always the selfish type, I wasn't like him; this philanthropist.
He spoke of people and stories as if there were his own to tell. He spoke with vigor and passion which only cemented the feelings I already have for him.
Yet what is he avoiding?
Why isn't he telling me stories of his own? His first bicycle, his insane fear of clowns( I'm assuming), his Christmases with his parents, tree houses, family vacations...memories of his own.
I was intrigued by this veil he hid under, he spoke gallantly of his triumphs in his career and charitable causes, what about him? His life?

"What about you?" I asked.

"Me?" As he stared at the road perplexed by my question, "what about me ?"

"You spoke about everything to do with your career and never once did you mention yourself. Hobbies, likes, dislikes, family. You." I elaborated.

He turned to face me, "And what's so wrong about that?"

"Well I am dating you, not your career."

"My career is me." He asserted.

"No. Not at all. Your career is what you do. Not who you are." I corrected.

"Let's get there, then we'll talk about...me."

Hasn't he ever spoken of himself before?
Where the hell is this place?

It was an asian restaurant. In another state probably. We ordered our drinks then after a bit ordered dinner.

"I didn't hear you talk about yourself other than your career either." He said out of the blue.

"Well ask and you shall be answered." I replied.

"Family, likes, dislikes, hobbies..." He repeated my words and smirked.

"Well. Only child. Both parents are researchers so naturally I would follow in their footsteps. I like the beach. I love the beach. Winter, spring, fall, summer, I'll be there. I like horse back riding", he had a look of disbelief with an arched eyebrow, "yes Doctor I like horses. So much better than humans sometimes." I joked.

"How about past relationships?"
I was taken aback. I never talk about my personal life on my dates. Whenever they would ask, I would dodge it perfectly. This round spot which I avoid continuously. This taboo area I myself abandoned.

"Occasional dates here and there, nothing serious."
He looked at me which this intense look, as if analyzing my tells as if we were playing poker.

"I don't think so. Your face says otherwise. Your pupils dilated and your breathing irregular. I would hate to pry but we are on a date, and not to nights ago or so we were playing tonsil hockey." He chuckled.

What did the good doctor say? Tonsil hockey ?!

I laughed. Laughed my ass off. I wouldn't be surprised if we get kicked out.

He is so cute I could just kiss him. Hey I could !

I leaned over and did just that. He was surprised by my affectionate gesture.
"What was that for?" He asked.

"On rare occasions when I do get asked about my relationships, previous ones, I avoid it with skill. This is the first time I feel the need to disclose that part of myself."

"So disclose." He encouraged.

"It was 3 years ago I guess. I had an internship in Province in France. Such beautiful country side, ever been? Anyways...he also was an intern there. Well, we hit it off. He was charming, smart, and quite knowledgeable. Those are the ones that hurt you; the ones who have their way with words. Convince you the world is flat and you'd believe them so wholeheartedly." The blood escaped my face, my pulse quickened, and every minute or two I would smile, taking the edge off this uncomfortable conversation. "Apparently I wasn't the only one charmed and trapped, and apparently he had a 'betrothed' waiting for him back in Italy. He...ended it. I felt worthless for a while, laughed at like some big joke. I came back home with 'emotional scars' as my therapist tells me. I'm fine. I...I..."

He held my hand as I stuttered and choked on my words. Something that never happens.
He didn't say anything. Nor did I. I was fine.
No I wasn't.

We ate dinner. We spoke about all other things, then suddenly he disclosed.
"My parents were both psychiatrists. Incredible in their field. They diagnosed me. They medicated me. To think sometimes that experts in fields would handle predicaments they face. They became more distant. So did I. They left me to my own devices on condition I never forget my meds. I didn't, and they never interfered." He paused and took a sip from his glass,"and that's about it."

"You're not...a predicament I mean." I said tenderly. Shocked by the amount of femininity I invested in my tone.

"And you are not worthless, or a joke. You are most certainly not fine." He looked at me pensively.

"I'm not Chance. I'm not fine. Not the slightest."

For as long as I can remember, I had it in my heart to hate males, treat them like the scum of a gender they are. Yet as I look across the table, at this beautiful being, all I could think of was laying my world at his feet and handing him the cheat codes to the fortress surrounding me.

Dedicated to jehanham for her devotion. My work is nothing and wouldn't have been anything without your encouragement.
Readers...you fortunate few...thank you so much for reading this story. I would love some form of feedback, or vote whether you like what I am writing or not.
Xoxo