When Samantha James becomes One Direction's personal assistant, she gets more than she bargains for. Falling for Harry Styles is one of them. But things aren't always easy or beautiful, because Sam has secrets--dark ones, and she'll do anything to h...
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"So, Samantha," Miranda, my therapist began.
"It's Sam," I corrected her, with a somewhat annoyed tone to my voice.
She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows. "Sam," she corrected herself. "Why are you here today?"
I fidgeted in my seat, tugging at my fingers and looking around. "A few people in my life thought that I should talk to someone, so here I am."
Miranda eyed me from across the small coffee table littered with a box of tissues and a few magazines. "You didn't want to come here on your own, though?"
"Not really," I answered truthfully. It was true, too. I didn't want to be here, not really, but for the past week, I'd been having thoughts about how both Harry and Nicki wanted me to talk to someone. Since the nightmares were still coming, I thought I'd give it a shot.
She uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, situating herself in her chair. "Why did those people want you to talk to someone?"
I fought the urge to give her a sarcastic smile. Instead, I licked my lips. "Our session is only an hour. I don't think we have enough time in the world to talk about what's wrong with me."
Miranda gave me a tight smile. "Let's see what we get through, then."
"Are you sure you're ready for this? By the time I finished telling my ex about the first half, the sun had come up." Calling Harry my ex leaves a strange feeling in my stomach, as if the breakup hadn't hit me until just now. I swallow my sudden feelings and glance up at Miranda.
I thought I'd managed to hide the sudden look on my face from calling Harry my ex, but Miranda noticed. "What about your ex? Why don't we start with him?"
"He was the only good thing," I admitted, glancing up at her.
"I doubt that," she replied.
I gave her a sad smile. "Let me tell you the story. That way you'll see."
Miranda relaxed into her chair, placing her notebook in her lap. "Let's hear it."
So I told her everything. I started at high school and worked my way up to the break up. Miranda listened the whole time and didn't interject, except to hand me a tissue when I choked on tears while telling her about finding out about my parents. Nothing on her face screamed judgment. In fact, her face stayed void of any emotion during my rant, and when her assistant came in to retrieve me, she stopped her and told her to cancel all her appointments for the day.
