Page 14 of Hypnotized By Love

Ignoring his jab, I went back to the task at hand. I explained that he wasn’t going to black out, that he wouldn’t have amnesia and forget everything. He would be aware and feel like he was conscious, even though he was hypnotized, and that I’d maintain his confidentiality.

I had said this speech so many times that it was easy to go through the whole spiel without hesitating, without tripping over my words. Because internally? That’s what was happening. My brain was all overthe place, trying to make sense of what was going on, that I was voluntarily spending time with Mason Beckett.

Who was comfortable enough with me that he was making jokes.

“The most important thing for you to know is that you’ll be in control of the session and I’m just here to help guide you. All hypnosis is basically self-hypnosis, and I’m here to facilitate that.”

He raised an eyebrow at me, and I caught a whiff of his disbelief. “You’re going to help me hypnotize myself?”

“Your subconscious mind isn’t something you can turn off and on with a switch. It’s always there, listening and responding. Hypnosis is shifting into another state of consciousness where you’ll be focusing your attention and reducing your peripheral awareness so that you can better concentrate.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to shut off my peripheral awareness while you’re in the room.”

I felt my face heat up and wondered if I was turning red. I didn’t know how to take that statement or how to react.

It had been so easy before. I hated Mason Beckett, and it was all very black and white. I never could have predicted that I’d be responding physically like this to him.

Then whatever slightly kinder thoughts I’d been harboring quickly went out the window when he shook his head and said, “I can’t believe you think this stuff actually works. I feel like I should be congratulating you on your cult and telling you I look forward to the eight-episode documentary on Netflix.”

“I know it works,” I said indignantly, trying to keep my hostility in check. “I’ve seen it and personally experienced it. Even the American Psychiatric Association says it is a ‘powerful, effective therapeutic technique.’”

He grinned. “I’d bet that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that.”

It was not, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. Especially not when I was so annoyed by him and hisstereotypical, condescending views. “Normally I’d ask you about why you’ve come to see me, what your goals are and what you think is holding you back, but given that you’re here to write an article, I don’t think there’s a point.”

The kinds of things that made people get stuck were stuff like low self-esteem and low confidence, and I didn’t think either one of those was an issue that he’d ever had to deal with.

“No, go ahead and give me the full experience. What do people typically come to see you for?”

“There’s a lot of different reasons. I help people with everything from insomnia, like your mom, to stress and anxiety, addiction, phobias, pain control, panic attacks, PTSD, behavioral control issues. Stuff like that.”

He looked like he was about to make a snarky comment but managed to refrain. Instead, he asked, “What would you treat me for?”

Mason’s question felt very strange, like it was a test. The truth was, I didn’t know him now, as the person he’d become. It was weird to be with someone who felt so familiar but strange at the same time. “I don’t know. Are you still irrationally terrified of alligators?”

He straightened up at that, squaring his shoulders. “That’s a normal and sensible thing to be afraid of. Alligators are cretaceous leftovers, and from an evolutionary standpoint, it is entirely rational of me to want to avoid tiny dinosaurs.”

“Growing up in Florida probably really helped with that,” I said, pressing my lips together so that I wouldn’t laugh. I ducked my face so that he wouldn’t see my smile.

But he did. “Sinclair! Are you almost smiling? Should I run a stroke protocol?”

Ignoring his teasing, I said, “Okay, so no to overcoming a phobia. What about relationship problems?”

Why was that question hard to get out? I didn’t care who he dated.

“I do just fine in that department,” he said with a confidence that was definitely on this side of arrogance.

“Really? I heard you were almost engaged until she dumped you.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t almost engaged. And I broke up with her because she had issues.”

“I’m assuming one of her issues was that she couldn’t stand you. Which I understand, by the way.”

“Ouch. Incoming.” He said it playfully, but there was something in his tone that made me wonder whether or not I’d actually hurt him. “You heard, huh? Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

The truth was that when I’d heard he was nearly engaged, it was like someone had gutted me. Which made zero sense. I didn’t want him to know how close to home his words hit and just shook my head.

He added, “You always did use to watch me. Even when you were angry at me.”

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