Page 22 of Off-Limits as Puck

“He already did. In the parking lot.”

“Chelsea!”

“Nothing happened. We just... established boundaries.”

“While eye-fucking each other?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“This is going to be so good,” she predicts cheerfully. “I can’t wait.”

After we hang up, I try to focus on preparing for tomorrow’s sessions. But every time I close my eyes, I see that smirk. Feel his eyes tracking me around the locker room. Remember the weight of him, the taste of him, the way he said my name like a prayer.

I pull up the intake forms, typing with unnecessary force:

Client Name:Reed Hendrix

Presenting Issues:Anger management, impulse control, professional conduct

Treatment Goals:To be determined

Personal History:

I stare at the cursor blinking in the empty field. What do I write? “Client and therapist have previous intimate knowledge that compromises therapeutic relationship”? “Session may be derailed by unresolved sexual tension”? “Therapist is completely fucked”?

My phone buzzes. Unknown number.

Unknown: Wear that black dress tomorrow

My heart stops. Then logic kicks in—he doesn’t have my number. This has to be someone else. A wrong number. A coincidence.

Unknown: The one from Vegas

Unknown: Or don’t. I’ve got a good imagination

I should block the number. Report it. Do literally anything other than save it to my contacts. But my fingers move without permission:

Contact saved: DO NOT ANSWER

Me: How did you get this number?

DO NOT ANSWER: Team directory. Perks of reinstatement

Me: This is inappropriate

DO NOT ANSWER: So was that thing you did with your tongue

I throw my phone across the room, face burning. It buzzes again from the floor, but I refuse to look. I’m a professional. A doctor. A grown woman with boundaries and self-control.

But when I finally retrieve it an hour later, I read his last message:

DO NOT ANSWER: Sweet dreams, Dr. Clark

I delete the thread. Block the number. Pour another glass of wine.

Tomorrow at ten, I’ll sit across from Reed Hendrix in my professional capacity and address his performance issues. I’ll maintain appropriate boundaries. I’ll remember that my career, my reputation, and my relationship with my father all depend on keeping this strictly professional.

I’ll pretend Vegas never happened.

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