Loving Ms. Psychopath [GxG]

Chapter 4

*Photo interpretation of Sophie Jackson.*

The morning had come — I did not expect it to be so fast. I woke up first before Nadia. There's nothing else for me to do. I did promise to fix Nadiaʼs car — So that's what I'm going to do right now.

She's sleeping so soundly, and I'm afraid of waking her up. She looks like a goddess — I can't help but stare.

I'm creepy.

I know.

It should make sense because I'm a lesbian.

I went downstairs and came looking for a car with broken tires. I finally found her car! It's cute, a light grey BMW.

Not wasting time, I rushed to my car and went to the nearest repair shop to get new tires. I bought the same brand of tire she has.

I smiled at myself, carrying two big tires between my arms. I hurriedly placed them on the concrete floor — And went to my car to get my supplies.

"That should do it." I gaze at her car and am satisfied. I took my shirt off and used it to wipe my sweat off my body. I hope Nadia will appreciate this. "I'm back," I called for Nadia.

Wrong timing.

Wrong timing!

I saw her in her black undergarments. I quickly turned around and pretended not to look. "I thought you ditched me." She said, sounding sad.

"No, I woke up early to fix your car."

She looks at me intrigued. "You did that when you woke up?"

"Yup!" Why do I act like her girlfriend now? Psh, she's captivating me with her looks. I don't know whether to enjoy it or not.

She went closer, "You did a job well done, Sophie." she whispered in my ear.

I am going to ask you this. Are the knees supposed to weaken after that? I assume not. I never read anything like this in my psychology book. "Thanks," I blushed.

"Blushing now, are we? Which did you like most? My compliment or my body?" I can feel her hot breath on the crook of my neck. I don't know how to react to this.

I'm nervous. "Nadia... " Was the only word that came out of my mouth.

"Yes, doctor?" She closed the gap between us. I can feel her boobs pressing onto mine.

"Nadia... " I held onto her waist and pulled her closer to me. The height difference is cute. I'm taller, and she's much smaller up close. She clings her arms behind my neck, pulling our faces near each other.

We both closed our eyes, waiting for our lips to seal.

* Ring..., Ring... *

We opened our eyes, nervous evident all over my face. I excused myself and quickly looked for my phone, "It's over here, Sophie." She giggled, pointing at the side table.

I apologized and quickly declined the phone call. "I'm sorry about that, it was my friend." Stupid Sullivan. "He just texted me that I need to go back to work. He said it was urgent."

I will kill Sullivan.

"It's no worries, Sophie. But I owe you one for fixing my car. Can I please have your number?" I nodded and gave it to her. "Thank you." She smiles.

I ran out to get inside my car. I almost forgot to get a shirt, but I didn't have another pair. I'm going to have to ask Nadia.

"Nadia?" I opened the door slowly, and she hummed in response. "Can I borrow a shirt?" I asked shyly.

"Of course, you can. But —." She sighs, "What a waste of a good view."  She hands me a black Nirvana shirt, cool.

"Thank you. Text me when you're available. I want to return this shirt to you after I wash it." She nodded and smiled.

***

That prick Sullivan is double-dead to me.

I speed-walked down the endless white hallway that everyone fears and knows. You can't make me count the amount of 50/50 bodies I have seen, though I am a psychiatrist — My work consists inside a hospital.

I have my own office and room. Yet, I still prefer not to be acquainted with some doctors. I do have friends. Some of them are too pushy, but they're fun and reliable.

"Hey, Sophie. I'm sorry to call you so early — it's urgent today." Sullivan told me — as he tried to handle and explain each paper to me. "This patient is said to have a Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's urgent since he's having hot flashes." Sullivan is not only a good manager but also a good assistant.

"He has not calmed down?" He shook his head. "I'll handle this, Sullivan. You may go." He nods before heading out.

My patient is lying down on the chair. I can see him trying to breathe, "I'm here now, Noah." Noah is a 17-year-old boy. One of the youngest I'm handling so far with PTSD

He was an athlete before all the trauma happened. I took time to calm him down without the need for a prescription. I must say, he did well. There will be no cure for his disorder, however. He can recover with proper treatment — I hope to see him often in my office.

He told me how his trauma started.

There was this one person he argued with that day. He knew he was capable of getting him killed since he came from a wealthy family,

On his way home after a day of the so-called misunderstanding.

He got abducted.

If you can imagine his face, he has visible bruises and cuts still. Being abducted and beaten at the same time is enough to cause trauma for someone this young

He said that he was no longer in contact with his friend. I'm glad. Kids nowadays are getting more spoiled and meaner, and I cannot believe it.

Noah left my office with a calm body structure now. I see he had relief. I gave him a prescription and told him to take it only when he dealt with panic attacks.

After Noah, I took in my two other patients, and the rest of my time? I drank coffee.

I looked over the shirt Nadia had left me. I hope she texts me today or tomorrow.

"Why do you look like you're in love or something," Jennifer asked me. One of my colleagues — And is also my best friend.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, Jackson. You tell me." She smirks.

"I'm not in love, Jennifer."

"I may not be a psychologist like you, but I do know how to read a person just by their smile." She nudges my arm, "Whoʼs the lucky girl?"

"No one. I'm not in love, Jennifer."

"Whatever you say, lover girl." She winks and leaves. How can you figure out someone's In love just by the look on their face?

I don't know.

I should know — right?

I sighed — as I sat down, massaging my head. I have never felt this way, honestly. Maybe it's just a crush.

But I do believe in faith, destiny, and that cheesy stuff. I can't believe I'm saying this right now. I feel so cringe and cheesy.

I'm going home. Sullivan can just fuckoff for ruining my morning.

Thank you for reading Dating Ms. Psychopath!