Forrest

Chapter 5 Troubled

FORREST

“GOOD TO see you again, Forrest.” Dr. Diana Reed sat back to her chair after our handshakes.

“You too, Dr. Reed.” I took a seat on the couch across hers while she was taking her notes and pen.

She smiled. “So, what brings you here today?”

I rested my arms on my thighs and linked my fingers together. “I don’t know.”

She studied me for a while before she asked. “Have you been having trouble sleeping lately?”

“No.” I hated it when people tried to read me, but this woman helped me a lot over the years. Alan usually gave me a long speech to visit my therapist if he knew constant nightmares were keeping me awake, but this time, I came here willingly. For what reason? I didn’t know.

“Something’s bothering you.” She smiled knowingly. “Let me rephrase. Is someone keeping you awake?” She must have noticed the dark circles under my eyes.

I licked my lips and shifted on the couch. I always kept everything under wraps, but I didn’t have an excuse when it came to my therapy. I had to talk about it somehow. “What made you say that?”

“I am your therapist, Forrest. You said you don’t have trouble sleeping, then this might be something new. Tell me about it.”

“I can’t say that she’s a bother though.”

“But?”

There was definitely a but. Of course. I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn’t put what was bothering me into words. So I shut my mouth again.

“Okay. Tell me three things you think first thing in the morning.” She scribbled on her notes, then glanced back at me.

Fuck. Me.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Forrest.” Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

“I am not ashamed, Dr. Reed.”

“Then you knew everything we discuss here is just between you and me. It’s normal to feel something toward a woman, to be sexually attracted over someone. And you’re young and good-looking.”

“I know. It’s just. It’s not about myself I am troubled about.”

“It’s normal to worry about someone.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Let us think that you’re not talking to your therapist right now. Think of me as someone you trust.”

“I trust you, Dr. Reed.”

“So you have feelings for her.”

My gaze snapped at her. Her? Do I have? ”I am not sure.”

“But you care about her.”

“Yes.” Jesus! I just admitted. I wanted to run and never come back. Something kept me from not doing so, instead, I crossed my legs, resting my back against the couch.

“That’s progress. Tell me about it.”

“This happened about a year and a half ago. I just don’t know if she knows that I’d been watching her. We don’t talk, I mean we exchanged his and hellos a couple of times, but we never got a chance to have a long chit-chat and talk about ourselves.”

“Why not?”

“We have nothing in common. We have different perspectives about relationships.”

“Do you believe that two opposite people attract?”

Yes. ”Maybe.” I shrugged.

“What made you say that you two have different perspectives?”

“I’ve been keeping tabs on her. I know it sounds creepy, but I mean no harm.”

“It’s alright. Tell me about her.”

God, where do I start? I cleared my throat. “She’s straightforward, funny, quirky, beautiful, but what enticed me...” Enticed? Jesus. I wanted to hit myself in the head. “...is her loose-tongued sharpness. I know not most men like that quality in a woman, but I like her just the way she is.” Whatever her reasons for avoiding a relationship, I wouldn’t stop until I figure out. “I have different views about sex. I want a deeper intimate connection with my sexual partner as much as possible or at least I trust her with myself, my body.”

“That’s great. Go on.”

“I had a couple of one-night stands. It’s because I couldn’t escape, but I’ve been in a serious relationship as well. I can handle the temptation, I am good at that, but I believe sex has more meaning when two persons share it with special connections, with trust at least.”

“And you believe that she doesn’t believe in relationships?”

“I think so. She’s a commitment-phobic. Her friends’ word. Not mine.”

“And it’s bothering you.”

“No. I mean, I don’t care. It’s just— the thing is—” Fuck! I sighed. Why does it hard for me to express? “These past few days she changed. That what’s bothering me.”

“How so?”

“She seemed lost, sad, and I knew something’s wrong. I’ve never seen her so down since I met her, but I can’t just tell her to open up to me, besides, she already questioned my motives on why suddenly, I am talking to her. It’s a good thing though, that she doesn’t trust someone so easily. I mean unless I am wrong about her.”

“You want to gain her trust for her to open up to you?”

I looked away, thinking of how should I answer her that I wanted more. The fact that I didn’t even know how to approach Megan or why I was so bothered, to begin with? It’d been almost two years since I’d been watching her, and I was satisfied with that arrangement. But lately, I couldn’t just watch her as she ruined her life with whatever she was trying to deal with alone. She needed someone. She needs me. Does she now, dumbass? I wanted her to need me and consider me as her friend.

Megan reminded me of someone. I thought that was it, but I was completely wrong. Something flipped inside me and told me to do something, and that I never did in a long time.

Dr. Reed was right, it was immensely bothering me.

“I wish it’s that easy.”

“You just have to trust yourself, Forrest.”

***

I was catching my breath after an hour on the treadmill, a hundred push-ups, crunches, and sit-ups, but I wasn’t nearly satisfied, and my mind was somewhere else most of the time. The Fleur Gym was just next door from the tattoo shop, also owned by Alan. I didn’t know what I was doing here, the fact that I had a mini-gym in my pad. Perhaps, I needed a little bit of advice.

It’d been a week since I planned on approaching Megan and asked her if we could talk over a coffee. I scoffed. Now, I’m weird. Over a coffee? Yeah, I kinda knew what coffee she liked. Just the word talk made me wince in embarrassments of not having guts to ask her. Every time I saw her number on my phone, my brain froze and stopped me from dialing.

After wiping my sweat off my forehead, I slumped my ass to the bench, lied down flat, and did a few bench pressing. Then, I placed the weight back, sat up, and growled out a curse.

“You’re distracted, man.” DJ Kyan breathed heavily after stepping out of the treadmill. Then propped his hands on his hips, looking down at me. “Try sharing. It’s not bad to talk to someone and ask for help once in a while. Just don’t ask me for cash.”

“I’m good, dude,” I denied, raking my fingers through my damped hair.

“Whatever.” He fixed his 3C hair with the black headband. “Grow some balls already and just do whatever you are planning to do,” he added. Yeah, maybe it was easier said than done.

“I said I’m fine.” Pissed, I stood up and walked away from him.

“Whatever grow your balls, Wood!”

“Your balls need growing!”

I stepped into the shower with a hazy brain. I needed to put myself together. I couldn’t let this thing mix up with my priority that I’d been investing over these years. Personal entanglement was the last thing I wanted. It would complicate things. I kept reminding myself that many times for a week now, but it didn’t help. I realized it was too late. My life had been complicated for ages.

Shutting people out of my life didn’t do any good, but this was me. I had to embrace what I’d become. Nothing was going to change my past. I was happy with it, until recently that I had to ask myself again.

I even made friends. They’d grown on me, and I liked the feeling that I cared about someone more than myself. Damn it, Megan!

A message popped up from my screen that had my heart leaped over my throat. Speaking of the devil. How did she get my number?

Megan: Hi. Sorry for this unusual message. I don’t even know what I am doing at the diner across the tattoo shop, but here I am. Waiting... _Megan.

I swallowed hard as I reread after reread her message. It was really from her because I had her number saved for almost two years.

Forrest: What are you doing here, Megan? Wanna get a tattoo?

My thumb hung in the air, rereading my message if it was right to ask or I sounded like a stupid. Finally, I hit send.

Megan: I am at the Diner. What do you think? I don’t eat ink and needles.

I could feel her rolling her eyes. I typed my reply.

Forrest: Be there in 3.

I gulped back my nervousness as I entered the Diner. Why am I so nervous? It’s just her. And this is the right time to put your plan into action, don’t you think, idiot?

Scanning my gaze to the booths, I found her sitting alone at the far corner beside the glass window.

“Hi.” She smiled. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

“Hmm.” I took a seat across hers, trying to be in the best manner I could muster. I placed my hands over the over-used cream table and grabbed the salt shaker like a dumb.

Jesus Christ! Can anyone blame me? She’s in front of me, and my social skill is a little bit rusty.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I continued playing with a shaker. I couldn’t just shut up, could I?

“You already asked me in your text. Don’t you have any better questions? Like how are you? Or say something like you look beautiful, Megan.”

I lifted my gaze at her. As always, she was beautiful in the daylight and glower than the silver moon at night. Just shut the fuck up, Forrest. Poetic doesn’t suit you.

Speechless, I just stared at her. Her face looked so vibrant with lesser makeup that she could fool you, but I wasn’t nearly convinced. She was hiding something, but no matter how hard she tried, I could feel her walls were slowly falling apart.

I wondered what she’d been through. People did something for a reason, whatever happened to her in the past, or whoever did this to her, must have cut through deep into her. Beneath the surface of a firecracker, I knew, there was a heart in there—some sincerity, affection, and yearning. Every time I looked into her eyes, my chest ached as if I got through her—felt her pain, heard her cry, shared her

grief. I liked her freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and just above her cheekbones though, they made her more attractive.

“Done checking me out?”

I blinked. “Sorry. You’re saying?”

“Thank you, Forrest. And I owe you an apology.” She squeezed my hand and had the heat crept over my face. Her touch was like a hot liquid metal burning my skin, seeping through my flesh. My body flushed and tingled to her innocent touch, and my cock— Get a grip, dude. We’re not her type.

I pulled my hand back, breathed deeply. Before I could reply, the waitress arrived with a tray of breakfast.

“I thought you haven’t had your breakfast. I went to the Fleur Shop earlier and met Milo. He told me that you were in the gym.”Did he now? I needed a serious talk with that dude not to tell a stranger about my whereabouts.

I looked down at the two plates with stacks of blueberry pancakes, melted butter on top, and I was thinking of pouring a generous amount of maple syrup. She also ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, and two cups of black coffee.

“What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” she answered reluctantly, and I felt like an asshole.

Maybe we could be friends or I could get an answer. But I knew I would only make things complicated, and that was the last thing I wanted to happen between us because there was no way I would even try controlling myself when I was with her. Jesus, bending a few rules wasn’t so bad when you were the one who created them in the first place.

She started her breakfast, and I grabbed my plate closer.

“Thanks.” I sliced my pancakes and shoved it into my mouth. I was not a foodie but the taste of buttermilk exploded in my taste buds. I almost moaned and closed my eyes to the softest pancake I’d ever eaten.

“That good, huh? Milo said I shouldn’t leave without trying the famous pancakes.”

I stopped chewing and might have moaned a little. “Can’t remember the last time I ate here.”

“Wait a sec, I thought you’re staying above the shop like Milo?”

What the fuck! How long had she been talking with Milo?

“No.” I shook my head and sipped my coffee. I savored the delicious breakfast on my plate silently. Good thing was, she didn’t pry anymore.

Once I was done, I looked at her intently. “What are you doing here, Megan?”

“I honestly don’t know.”