Page 34 of The Girlfriend Game
Sixteen
Kendall
That Katy Perry song keeps running through my head. Except in my case, I didn’t kiss a girl. I kissed the one and only person most forbidden for me to kiss. My goddamn freaking client.
How did I even let myself get into this mess?
Oh, yeah. I swooned and let myself get caught up in the moment.
Why did I even bother taking an oath in the first place when I became a psychologist if I’m just going to piss it all away by falling for my handsome patient?
Self-loathing and anger fill me with a desperate rage I’ve never experienced before. I’m not thinking straight or clearly as I rush up toward the main gates of the park, practically throwing the rented knee and shoulder pads at the teenage attendant, who looks more than a little scared of me as I rush past her into the parking lot where due to my own stupidity, I have to wait for the Uber to pick me up.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
All because I let Zeke show off for me when he drove us here on his motorcycle. And I swooned again.
Apparently, bad boys who play basketball and dare me to jump from terrifying heights are suddenly now my thing. The intoxicating and, let’s face it, dangerous aspect of being with Zeke today had me throwing caution to the wind and doing things I never would have done otherwise. He had me so spun up that I literally lost my sense of direction.
I pitch forward and place my hands on my knees to catch my breath and bring my heartrate down. Images of Zeke flash through my head and I try to disassociate the man I know as my client from the man I met up with on Heart and Soul.
They’re one and the same, but from parallel universes for all I’m concerned.
I remember the first time Zeke walked in my office. Bold, cocky, and full of defiance. The sheer masculine beauty he possessed stole my breath away. I knew it then—he would be my undoing. Like the small snag in a sweater, he would slowly unravel me.
And don’t get me started on the fierce protectiveness he exhibited at the coffee shop when he stepped in to defend my honor. Honestly, even now, it has my pulse racing and my panties wet from how hot I found that behavior. Sure, I scolded him for that unnecessary display of machoism, but deep down, it got me all hot and bothered. I liked it.
But Zeke is also the same man who during countless conversations on the app chat found ways to maneuver between lighthearted fun one moment and seriously sexy the next. Each time, I grabbed on and wanted more from him. He hit me deep and shook me to the core.
I hear him calling my name, but I don’t turn around. I can’t. I’m scared if I look at him, or let him state his case, it will tear my resolve into shreds like confetti paper falling to the ground.
When he finally reaches me, I avoid his gaze, keeping my head down and eyes on my phone, where I work to order an Uber. Zeke isn’t even out of breath and I’m panting like a pig at a barbeque.
“Kendall, don’t run off. Please, we’ll figure this out. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what we did. I don’t ever want you to feel ashamed about that kiss.”
Zeke’s fingers gently pluck the phone from my hands and then lock around my wrists, placing my palms together in a prayer position, clutching them reverently to his chest. Solemnly. With hopeful intent.
“Listen, I know I’m not easy to be with. Outside of my basketball skills, I’m a mess.” He chuckles ruefully, absently stroking the backside of my hand with a thumb. “I won’t blame you for walking away. I probably wouldn’t date me either if I were you and I knew what a headcase I am.”
My eyes flash with disappointment. “Zeke, is that what you think? That I won’t date you because of your issues?”
He gives me a pensive look that tears my heart in two. “Well, yeah. You know how much trouble I am, and the state my life is in right now. If the roles were reversed, I’d probably get the hell out of this as fast as I could, too.”
Flipping free from his grasp, I cover my palms over his overly large hands, squeezing tight in the same manner. “Zeke, that’s not it at all. The only reason I can’t date you is because you’re my client. It violates the standards of practice. It’s not only seen as manipulative and unfair to you, but it’s unethical. It pushes the boundaries too far because of the intimate knowledge I have of you from our sessions. I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you, period.”
I drop my hands from his and rub at my temple; the pressure from the highs and the lows of today have brought on one hell of a headache. The thought that my entire career could be in jeopardy because of this one stupid and reckless decision causes my own anxiety levels to skyrocket.
His eyes flit over my face and land on my lips as the edges of his mouth tip up into a knowing smirk. I crinkle my forehead, wondering what he could possibly find so amusing about this situation.
“Is this funny to you? I assure you, Zeke, it is not.” I yank my hands away and check my phone, which indicates my car is set to arrive in three minutes.
Zeke shakes his head, but his eyes flash with something peculiar and mischievous.
“Nope. Not funny in the slightest. It’s actually very sad.” He tightens his lips into a flat line and glances off into the distance. “Because I guess this means I won’t see you again when I get back.”
Shock and confusion register in my head as to what he means, but I seem to be able to only respond to the fact that he’s leaving. “What? Get back from where?”
He pulls out his phone and checks his calendar, flipping it around to show me his schedule.
