Page 8 of Accidentally Joining His Cult

In high school, I was certain that my first real boyfriend and I would be together forever. Until Jordan overheard him bragging to his friends that he was only dating me because I paid for expensive dates and kept buying him presents. Jordan got suspended for punching him, and I was pissed that he didn’t wait for me to confront the asshole with him. After that relationship ended, I found out how much fun I could have without commitments and have never looked back.

Since then, I’ve had a few too many guys find out my last name and try to be whatever version of themselves they think is perfect for me, only to turn nasty when I call things off. It’s not even a true breakup when it was only a hook-up arrangement, but the drama has been very real. I meant what I told my friends the other day, I haven’t gone on an actual date in over ten years. There’s just something about Cody that makes all of this effort seem worth it.

Cody makes sure that everyone has had the opportunity to identify and share a goal with their groups before having us return our seats to the initial classroom setup that we began in. He goes back to the front of the room, setting up two chairs across from each other, angled out toward the audience, before sitting in one of them.

“You’ve all done a fantastic job here today identifying your individual personal goals and learning about some of the Kyla tools that you can use in your everyday life to help you achieve them.”

He looks so fucking excited for everyone. I can’t help but mirror his grin.

“This final activity will be the most challenging of today, but if you take it seriously and give it your all, it will also be the most rewarding.”

That would sound kind of ominous coming from literally anyone but him. Cody makes it feel like he’s about to introduce a summer camp game.

“I’d love for each of you to come up and sit across from me here.” He gestures to the other chair. “While in your small groups, you’ve already identified what area of your life could use the most improvement. Now, I’d like each of you to share a goal with everyone abouthowyou’d like to see that area improve.”

Okay, that seems redundant with what we just did. But not any more challenging.

“Then, I’d like for you to reflect on your past,” he continues. “It could be from your childhood or a more recent experience. Try to think about a memory that shaped this area of your life. Share that with me today so that we can shed its burden and begin building a new foundation for your better future,” he says excitedly, flashing his giant smile at us.

People start clapping like he’s just announced their team won the number one draft pick, and not like we’re all about to trauma dump in front of an audience of strangers.

The back row “gets to” start, so I have some time to figure out what bullshit to say before it’s my turn. I already told my group I was single, so I guess it has to be related to that.

Not awkward at all when I’m going on a date with the person running this.

Even though this New Age, self-help bullshit really isn’t my thing, I can appreciate how passionate Cody is about it all. He really is damn good at his job. It’s obvious from the way people leave the stage—lighter, happier, even when they were crying moments before. Cody never pressures anyone to share if they don’t want to, and his empathy is evident in how gracefully he handles each person’s experiences.

I’m so in awe of him that I don’t even realize that it’s somehow already my turn until the person next to me taps my shoulder.

I join Cody, cautiously lowering myself into the chair as I scramble to think of some random memory to share that he won’t want to talk more about later, or be able to call me out on embellishing as we get to know each other.

I wait for Cody to prompt me as he did with the people before me, but I find that his eyes are locked on the intricate shading and lines of my tattoos. I must have folded up my sleeves as I was fidgeting, trying to think of something to share. His gaze seems darker,maybe he has a thing for guys with ink.

When he finally looks up at me, our eyes meet, and the moment seems to stretch on endlessly. The room around us fades away as I stare at this perfect man.

And then a throat clears, snapping us both back to reality. I remember where we are and shift in my seat before Cody chuckles, “Hey, Beck.”

Fuuuck.Why did he call me that in front of all these people when I can’t kiss him?

I’ve never asked anyone to call me Beck, but many of my closest friends and family do. It always makes me feel seen, like the person is interested in the real me and not the eldest Caldwell son and heir.

It’s also really hot when he does it.

“So, what did you decide to focus on for your area of improvement?” he asks with a flirty grin.

After an awkward pause, I blurt out, “Well, my mother would love it if I found a nice man to settle down with.” I swear I have no filter around him.

Cody’s expression grows more amused. “Alright, let's take a moment to reflect. Close your eyes for me, and think about what experiences might prevent you from settling down with a nice man.”

I’m so glad they took our phones at the beginning of the day and had us sign NDAs. At the time, I thought it was all overkill for a self-help class, but now I’m very grateful to avoid whatever potential PR nightmare my answer might cause.

I’m already this far in, so keeping my eyes closed, I continue with whatever pops into my head. “Growing up, I had a great life. A fantastic family, we all like each other and enjoy spending time together. My parents are still together and have one of those disgustingly sweet relationships where they’re constantly all over each other and saying cheesy things. Anyone who looks at them knows they’re still in love after the almost forty years they’ve been together,” I say.

I never questioned if my family would accept me or treat me any differently for being gay. My coming out consisted of correcting my mom in the sixth grade when she asked if I had a crush on any of the girls at school, and I answered, “No, but the new boy is really cool. I think I like him.”

She didn’t have any sort of reaction. She just asked me to tell her more about him and reminded me that I was welcome to invite him over whenever I wanted. No one in my family ever asked me about girls again, and subtle rainbow decor seemed to appear throughout the house overnight.

The new kid did end up spending a lot of time with me that year, but he turned out to be straight and only wanted to be my friend so he could go to Werewolves games. Once the season ended, he completely ignored me. He wasn’t the first or last to care more about my family connections than he did about me.

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