stoical - l.h.

twenty

❀❀

luke's point of view

"I'm not in love with her," I say defensively, rudely, before the man before me can say anything first. "I want to make that clear before you go on a rant to me about love at first sight or some shit."

    Sam laughs deeply, the sound rumbling in his chest. He's a tall, broad man that could easily have been a professional football player. It doesn't make sense whatsoever that he's actually a therapist, but, you know. To each their own, and whatever.

    "I'm sure I wouldn't even say something like that," Sam says, smiling softly. "But tell me, anyway. Who is this girl?"

    I roll my eyes to myself, not because of annoyance at Sam. In fact, Sam is probably the only person in my life that I just can't get annoyed at. Of course, some things he says are annoying because of how accurate and meaningful they are, applied to me and my life, but I know that this guy is getting paid only to tell me things that are in my best interest. He has no reason to be anything but honest with me, no reason not to tell me exactly what it is I need to do or say or be in order to be my best.

    "Her name is Lavender," I practically groan, hiding my eyes with the heels of my palms. After that, I give Sam the run-down of who she is, how we met, why she makes my life a literal hell. Sam sits there and patiently listens, like he's trained to do. He doesn't interrupt once, just nods and stares into my eyes to show me that he's here and hearing everything I'm saying. I know it's the oldest trick in the book, but that alone has always been something comforting for me. When someone can listen to me without being distracted, give me undivided attention. That's probably why I'm so conceited.

    When I'm finished telling my story, I add, "I promise you, Sam, I am not in love with her. This sounds way too much like a cheesy freaking romance film but that's not what I'm intending."

    Smiling gently still, Sam says, "It doesn't seem like an intention, it seems like your life. It seems like what has happened."

    I nod my head once, leaning back on the couch I'm on. I fold my hands on my lap loosely. "That's right."

    Sam leans forward in his own chair, positioning himself so his pad of paper is laying flat for easy writing accessibility. He looks like he's thinking, considering. He gestures with his hands while he talks. "Why is it, Luke, that you're so insistent that you aren't in love with this girl? Lavender, is it?"

    "B-because..." I try to think of a reason that won't make me seem like a psychopath, but then I remember that it doesn't matter if I am or I'm not. This, too, is the only place, other than with Emerson, where I can be me. It doesn't matter what I say or how I say it. "Because of what I said. I don't want this to be some weird romance thing. And...her. I mean, she's probably the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life, but still. I don't know if -"

    "If you're attracted to her?" Sam offers. I pretend I'm thinking about it, but we both know I'm not. We both know the real reason. "Because she doesn't go well with your reputation."

    "Yes," I say, point-blank. "She'd be bad for it."

    Sam nods his head in understanding. He's come to the conclusion by now that it is a futile battle, trying to get me to get rid of my reputation, my second persona. He always says it's a work in progress, that with time, I will not worry so much about it. I say he's full of shit when it comes to that, but Sam only laughs when I say things like that. He knows I don't mean them, that I am the one full of shit.

    "So let's forget about the whole in-love thing. Let's forget about a romantic relationship at all," Sam says. I nod my head slowly, hearing him out, while I cross an ankle over a knee. "What is it about her that made you feel like you had to talk about her with me? Why couldn't you handle these feelings specifically on your own?"