Scarlett
I've never liked therapy.
The idea of laying on an uncomfortable sofa, spilling my deepest darkest secrets to a complete stranger, while they psychoanalysis me and tell me that all my problems stem from the fact that I want to fuck my mother, does not sound like a good time.
This is why I've been sitting in a therapist office for almost an hour, not saying a word but instead counting the tiles on the ceiling. There's 1,086.
"Time is almost up. Are you really not going to say a single word to me?" Miranda, the therapist that my sponsor Barry found for me, says. She tucks a lock of her short blonde hair behind her ear and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She's shifted so much in the last hour, that you would think that she's the one being forced to sit in a cramped room with a stranger and talk about shit that she doesn't want to talk about, not me.
Instead of responding, I look at the new Apple watch on my wrist, courtesy of Lucas. Five more minutes. All I have to do is hold out for five more minutes and then I can leave.
"Not talking to me, is not going to help you move past your traumas, Scarlett." Miranda sighs. "You're just wasting both yours and my time."
I roll my eyes. I know it's a waste of time. That's what I told Barry when he said that I needed to start going to therapy again. If it weren't for the fact that I would have to go back to rehab if I don't, I definitely wouldn't be here.
"Bottling up your emotions isn't going to help you at all. In fact, it's actually hurting you. I understand your need to want to feel strong and show everyone that you're okay, but you don't have to do that. It's okay, not to be okay."
Miranda sighs loudly when she still doesn't get a response from me. That's not very professional of her. I'm going to mention this to Barry.
"So Lucas Bellini is your boyfriend?" Miranda asks. This catches my attention.
"How do you know that?" I didn't tell her that, and it's definitely not in my file.
"I saw you and him together on page 6 of the Boston Chronicle. You looked stunning. I always wanted to go to a Bellini Gala, but you have to have some status and a net worth of at least a million even to get an invite."
"Thank you."
"How'd you two meet?" Miranda has a mischievous glint in her eye. She's probably ecstatic that she finally got me to talk.
"School." I keep my replies short. I have less than four minutes before I'm free from this prison, and I don't plan on giving her more than that.
"Was it love at first sight?" Miranda sounds like a schoolgirl gossiping with her best friend.
"No definitely not." I can't help but cheese at the thought of Lucas, and I's first time we met. As cute as I thought he was, I really didn't like him.
At all.
I thought he was just another arrogant, entitled rich white boy, who fucked with everything with a pulse. It amazes me how far we've come from that night to now. Lucas Bellini has my entire heart. He's one of the only people that I 'm completely comfortable with.
"It must be nice having an in with the Bellini's like that. I heard that they 're filthy rich. Do you get a lot of gifts from him?"
"Not really. I really don't like taking gifts from him." I'm partially telling the truth. After Lucas and I laid all our cards on the table and confessed our love to each other, I've been getting a lot more gifts from him. Like a lot, and they're not cheap little gifts either. My laptop that I've had for almost seven years now, finally gave up on me, last week. Lucas bought me a brand new MacBook Pro. This is on top of everything else he's bought me. I feel like a sugar baby. I mention how I spilled tea on my white converse, and the next day there's a new pair of white converse sitting on my bed. It's all a tad bit overwhelming. So yeah I don't like taking gifts from him, but I do because I know it makes him happy.
