Do You Trust Me?

Chapter Eight

NOT PROOFREAD

Lauren

I'll never forget the way Catalina looked at me that night. The second I read her eyes I knew that what I said should've been kept to myself.

"Lauren," my eyes shifting up to meet blue eyes that studied me on the single blood red pleather cushioned chair, "Could you tell me what it was that brought that thought to you?" Amalia Emerson, my newly appointed therapist, asked me as she crossed her black dress pant cladded legs, "It seemed to have really concerned your manager and family to have set this up for you."

Huffing I let my head fall back against the chair as I felt annoyance coming over me, "I was high and drunk. Obviously I didn't know what I was saying." I grumbled while bringing my hands up to rub my eyes.

Sleep had gotten hard since I'd been put on a weed cleanse. I'd been given melatonin gummies, but they barely did anything for me. The detox juices stocked up in my fridge I grateful for because it gave me energy to continue through my days, I just wished tasted it little better though.

"Your tour mate stated that you were completely aware of your surroundings. That you even put on an amazing performance. "

I let my hands grasp at the arm rest when I realized who she was talking about, "Wait...I-You spoke with Catalina?"

"She offered to give me her side of the story over the phone."

She didn't say anything about the kiss? Her words?

I haven't seen her since we ended the Latin tour. After that night I was on twenty four seven watch by either Roger or Teddy, leaving me no peace with myself. My tour bus was cleaned out since it was agreed upon by both teams and the label that canceling her tour so close to the end of this one branch would only leave a sour taste everyone's mouths. So they cut me off cold turkey.

Even from Catalina.

I sighed trying to just stir the conversation back to what was said previously, "I...It wasn't that great."

"Catalina told me that you really let out something that night. What do you think she meant by that?"

"Ugh-I'd gotten particularly emotional that night when I performed." Crossing my arms as I leaned back into the chair while my right leg bounced impatiently.

"The song you performed is I Fall Apart, right?"

I nodded my head as I looked her over. Her long twists falling over her caramel tanned shoulders and spaghetti silk yellow blouse, her black blazer rest on the back of her chair, and slick black heels really adding to her long legs. Our introduction was quick after I was dropped off here by Katie. Both of them talked about how good it was we'd made it while I was left processing that I really had to come to fucking therapy.

Music was my therapy.

But Roger and my mother both made good point with reminding me that I hadn't been able to write since I'd worked on my last album. That obviously something was wrong if I couldn't even express myself through writing anymore.

"Yeah. I made my own rendition for a cover of it."

"Why'd you choose that song?"

Rolling my eyes I brought my head to rest against the palm of my right hand as my left leg was now the one bouncing anxiously, "Because I like it."

"She told me that I'm not enough. She left me with a broken heart." She recited as she raised her brow to me, "Those are some lyrics."

"You a Posty fan?" I joked mostly to humor myself but was surprised to her a small laugh escape her plump lips.