Depiction

three

-Harry-

I drummed my fingers nonchalantly along the glass countertop. My eyes scanned the walls and desk of the place's ridiculously colorful, falsely happy environment. It was all very rehab-like, with a "believe in yourself, life is great!" kind of vibe. I didn't need therapy nor did I want it, especially not at this place. I mean I owed it to my mum to at least show up, but I can assure you, that is the bare minimum amount effort I would put into these ridiculous sessions.

The absent-minded drumming of my fingers stopped when my eyes did. They landed on something underneath the spotless desk. At my height I could make out just a patch of hair sticking out from underneath it. "You know I can see you down there," I said, amused at whoever was squatting underneath the shelter of the countertop. There was a moment of silence while the other secretary and I stared down at the hidden girl.

She rose awkwardly from her crouched position and my jaw almost dropped to the floor. She stood and settled into her chair, not meeting my eyes while her cheeks flushed. It was the girl from the bar.

My eyebrows rose and a smirk spread across my lips in amusement. "Ah, it's you."

"Hi," she said with a tight smile.

"How are you, love?" I asked her, deepening the red in her cheeks.

"Good. Sign here, please." Her words were short and clipped. We barely even had a conversation and she already seemed pissed at me.

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth while I scribbled my signature. I dropped the pen onto the paper and my eyes met hers again, holding her gaze for a minute. Seeing her sober in broad daylight gave me a chance to really take her in. There was something different about her beauty, it was subtle but it was there in her tanned skin and dark hair. And not to mention her bright blue eyes. It was something I had never seen before, something I couldn't really pinpoint.

It was probably just that I wanted to get her into bed more than I did most girls, I told myself.

I finally released the clipboard from my grip and let her take it. She looked down and it and didn't meet my eyes again after that. "You can go see Dr. Weston now, he's in room 201."

I took one last look at her and backed away from the desk. I still wore a smirk on my face, but the longer I walked down the hall, the more it faded. In fact, my lips were down turned into a frown when I rode the elevator to the second floor. The girl from last night faded in my mind as thoughts of therapy took her place.

Therapy. The thought was fucking ridiculous.

I scanned the room numbers and found 201 right away. I stopped in front of it, tempted to turn around and leave. The other part of me contemplated finding somewhere to sit for an hour while my mum thinks I'm getting "help." But I've always been shit at lying to her, and I've been kind of an asshole for the past year now. I guess I owed it to her to be here.

I took in a deep breath before swinging the door open and - you've got to be fucking kidding me. The ceiling was painted like what was supposed to be the sky, with puffy clouds and shit. Not to mention the trees painted along the walls. It looked like a play room for toddlers. I thought back to what that girl had said, wondering if I had gotten the room wrong. "Hello, are you Harry?"

I looked over to the sound of the voice. A man sat at a desk near the back of the room. He looked around forty with dark hair, different from what I expected. "Um, yeah," I said.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Weston." He stared at me for a moment while I stood near the door. "Please, take a seat."

Oh, right. I made my way to the cushioned chair in front of his desk and settled into it.