𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐕𝐈𝐈

• 7 •

When I first heard that the program will take two to three months with ten sessions, I thought that it was pretty long, but now, halfway into it, I feel like I need more time. This is my fifth Saturday at Keenan's home which means that roughly a month had passed. What the fuck did I do in one month?

I haven't even seen the house's bathroom or the hallways other than the one that leads to the study. I've only been in the foyer, the living room, and the big room with books and a desk I'd gladly be fucked on. I've seen a glimpse of the pool from the windows, but I haven't come near the water, not that I have a reason to.

As for the sessions themselves, I can see the progress in my work, but I know that ten sessions are not ample to fill in all the spaces I have for improvement.

Improvement. That's why I'm here. I'm here to improve as a writer and not to crush on Keenan, the reason why my palms and underwear are wet as I wait in the living room for my turn at thirty minutes.

In the living room, I am with Jess and Slater. The cheating thing still bothers me, but I'd rather cast my worries to Keenan and not Slater. The couple sat right across from me, eyes fortunately stuck to their devices as they typed. I, on the other hand, have made almost no progress this week if it wasn't for Keenan texting to remind me about the edits I had to incorporate.

I drummed my fingers against the table beside the sofa I'm sitting on. I lost track of how many minutes Adil's been in the study which means that he'll be out anytime now. Once he's out, it's my turn to die.

You asked for thrill, right?

I closed my eyes and perched my chin on my palm, elbow to the armrest. After I graduated, my body clock was fucked and I had to work hard just to get it back on the right track. The book's been ruining it again.

Before I could doze off, my eyelids flew open at the sound of soles against marble. Sure enough, it was Adlib with his black notebook and a pen in hand. He gestured to the study's direction when he saw me, "Your turn," said my friend.

Yawning and stretching, I got up. "How'd it go?" I had to ask for a vague idea of Keenan's current mood.

Adil smirked, "Great. He doesn't seem to be on his period anymore. Just don't ask dumb questions."

"Right," I huffed and ran my fingers through my hair, throwing locks over my shoulders, "No stupid questions."

I walked into the familiar room and cursed Mr. Travino's genes. He sat behind his desk with silver specs in front of his eyes, shirt hugging his body, and sexy fingers hovering over the keyboard. I had to stop myself from throwing all caution to the wind and spreading my legs for the poor man. A lock of hair fell down to his forehead and he irritably brushed it back with his fingers. God.

"Are you just gonna stand there like a pole or are we going to get this over with?" he lifted his head and glared at me.

I rolled my eyes and prayed that he didn't see. I walked further into the room, but stopped when he spoke again, irritated, "The door, Gia."

I closed the door behind me and walked further into the room. I pulled a chair towards his desk and sat on it. Then, I stared because it's all I could do. Keenan stopped typing and took his glasses off, folding the thin metal and laying it on his desk with grace you would not expect from a big man like him.