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Chapter Eighteen

After at least ten seconds, Noah finally cut through the silence with a faint snort.

"Well, this is awkward," he laughed.

"It doesn't need to be awkward," I replied. "You just talk, I'll listen."

"It's you sitting there like that, though, just staring at me. It's really intense."

"Would it help if I sat next to you?" I asked. "Then you wouldn't need to look at me."

As he nodded, I shuffled forward on my hands and knees, climbing up the bed to plonk myself down next to him against the headboard.

"Any better?" I asked, turning my neck to face him.

"Hmm," he replied slowly, with a feigned puzzled expression. "I think this whole counselling thing might be easier if you just did as I asked earlier and took all your clothes off."

"So rude!" I laughed, reaching one arm over to shove him, a lot more forcefully than I'd meant to.

"Ow!" he cried out, faking an injury as he rolled away from me. "Therapists aren't supposed to beat up their subjects, what about the circle of trust?"

Laughing at his amateur dramatics, I responded, "And clients aren't supposed to try and get their therapist naked!"

Rolling back towards me, he looked up with the same glint in his eyes that I'd not seen since the night he was in my bedroom.

"Well, maybe the therapist shouldn't look like you do tonight..."

I felt my cheeks turning pink. How could he possibly be making me feel like this after how he'd been treating me? This was supposed to be a serious conversation. Yet, here we were, flirting with each other like kids in the playground.

"This relationship is purely professional," I said, putting on my most serious, business-like face and sitting back up straight against the headboard.

"Let's go back to your early childhood, Mister Hartnett," I continued. "When did you first realise you were starting to show signs of being an asshole?"

Noah laughed as he adjusted himself to sit back up straight. Letting out a sigh, he began to talk.

"Okay. I was always supposed to become a doctor. Like my dad, and his dad, and probably every other man in my family since the dawn of time."

"A doctor?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're not just a pretty face then?"

Smiling at my comment but keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the print hanging on the wall opposite, he continued.

"It was all planned out for me. But, ever since I can remember, all I wanted to do was play music. My parents were happy to pay for lessons in any instrument I wanted to learn, but it was always just a hobby to them, not a serious career choice."

"So?" I said, gently urging him to carry on.

"When I was sixteen, my dad chose my A-Level subjects without me knowing. All so I could go on to apply to the medical school he was desperate for me to get into. Not because he wanted the best for me, but because he wanted to be able to brag about his son's education."

Turning his head towards me, he adopted a smug smile. "I actually started med school, believe it or not. You're sat in the presence of one year's worth of doctor, don't you know?"

It was impossible not to smile back at him, his vulnerability more visible than ever. I had been given more details about his life in the last few minutes than I had since meeting him. It felt undeniably good to know that, at least for the time being, he trusted me.