Page 115 of Love Me Stalk Me
I freeze.
Fuck.
Think. THINK.
I lick my lips, my heartbeat suddenly loud in my ears. "Uh...he's my therapist."
Nailed it.
Callahan nods, seemingly satisfied. "That's good. Is it helping?"
"Huh?"
"Therapy. You finding it helpful?"
I shift in place, panicking. "Oh. Yeah. Totally."
Callahan watches me, like he's assessing if I'm lying.
Which, technically, I'm not.
Because Calebiskind of like a therapist.
A therapist that made me come last night in my drunken state—which is probably a massive violation of patient-doctor ethics or whatever—but Callahan doesn't need to know that. I clear my throat. "So, uh?—"
My phone buzzes, the sound jarring in the quiet apartment.
I glance down and grimace.
Evan.
Ugh.
Callahan notices immediately. "That him?"
I nod, biting my lip.
I hesitate, about to decline the call, but then I glance at Callahan.
"Sorry," I murmur. "Do you mind?"
He watches me closely and sits up a little straighter. The mattress shifts beneath us.
"Yes. I do. I don't like the idea of you talking to that asshole ever again."
I suck in a breath, because he says it so casually. Like it’s just aplain fact, like it’s completely normal to drop something that possessive into a conversation like this. Like he’s been thinking it for a while.
"But you should still make your own decision," he adds, leaning back, arms crossed. "Answer it. Or don't. But don't do it because you think you have to."
I stare at him, the phone still buzzing in my hand.
And for the first time ever, I hesitate before answering Evan's call. But my anxiety wins out, and the moment I do, Evan's voice explodes through the speaker.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME, IZZY?"
I flinch, pulling the phone slightly away from my ear and stand, trying to put some distance between Callahan and what I’m about to do. "Evan?—"
"You haven't called me back. You just ignored me. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"
