Page 37 of The Girlfriend Game
It’s things like this that send my brain into anxiety-ridden overdrive. I pick at something obsessively until I can no longer focus on anything else. And when that happens, anything can trigger an episode and panic attack, sending me on a tailspin and landing me on my ass. Even something like this, that has absolutely zero to do with me, can cause me to hyperventilate.
Come to think of it, though, I haven’t had any triggered freak-out episodes in a few weeks. I realized that this morning while in the shower after my workout that working with Kendall, the right meds, writing in my journal, and using the tools she’s provided have done wonders for my mood.
Unfortunately, the thought of Kendall brings on a fresh wave of melancholy and a twinge of hopelessness, remembering where things left off with us last weekend. After spending the day with her and getting to know her more personally, feeling the incredible chemistry we shared, along with the intensity of the kiss, had me wondering if there was anything I could do to change her mind.
I know it’s a moot point. I’ll let things cool off and try again when I return from Atlanta. No sense making a fool of myself and get fresh rejection all over again in less than a week.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about how sexy she looked when she jumped from that pole and the way her smile took over her face with wonderment and excitement. The way her perfect soft lips molded together with mine, and the glide of her tongue inside my mouth.
My body reacts to the awareness of my memories, my dick growing hard in my track shorts. Not the best time to get a boner when you’re talking to a friend about his wife’s pregnancy.
“Logan and I are ecstatic over being pregnant. The only thing I’m worried about is what happens when the season begins again in October and I’m out on the fucking road more than I’m home.” He frowns dolefully.
I bend over the counter, extending my arm to give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
“I’m sure the joys will outweigh the sorrows, bro.”
“Well, damn, man. That’s some poetically optimistic shit you’re spouting. Dr. Rush must be giving you some great advice. You seem…good.”
I glance down toward my now semi-hard cock.She’s giving me something, all right.
“What can I say? I’m the best at everything. Basketball. Therapy. I’ve got it all going on in one perfect package.” I stretch my arms out wide and slam my palms down theatrically. “Boom.”
His head jerks back with laughter. “Jesus, Zeke. You are so fucking cocky.”
“I sense your jealousy, bro. I understand how inferior you must feel next to me.”
We laugh some more and by the time he leaves, I realize how lucky I am to have friends like Carver, someone who really cares for me outside of just being a teammate. Although we didn’t delve too deeply—because guys don’t do that—the laughing and bullshitting with Carver today gave me a real mental boost I didn’t realize I needed. It filled me with a therapeutic and euphoric high that I hope I can take with me as I head to Atlanta for the kids’ camp. These kids have their own challenges. They don’t need me raining on their parade. My job while I’m there is to teach some basketball techniques, make it fun for the kids, and most importantly, as Kendall has instilled in me through my therapy, learn to do something for others without any expectation of having it returned.
“Helping others is a basic function of human kindness. It sets our intentions on someone else’s problems, removing our energy and focus from our own,” Kendall said one day when we were working at the homeless shelter down the street from her practice. “When you can set aside your own needs, even for a few moments, it allows room for hope to grow.”
Kendall is the most intelligent and remarkable woman I’ve ever met. She’s taught me so much about myself and others. Yet, here I am, still holding out hope the space between us is enough to convince her to give us a try.
I check my phone for the thousandth time since our date. I have no idea what she’s thinking or where she stands. After I told her she was fired as my therapist, she laughed regretfully and informed me it wasn’t that simple. Even if I was no longer her patient, there were still rules and stipulations over seeing former clients, too.
She left the park in an Uber as I promised I’d give her time and space and wouldn’t pester her. The problem with that decision is I’m not a very patient man. When I know what I want, I want it now.
And I know without a single shred of doubt that I want Kendall Rush.
