"When's your session?"

"Due eight!"

Three days away seemed like three decades without Ross. Living life gets harder and harder when the only source of safety is away...which was why I was aching for a glimpse of him.

"We're running late! Where are the car keys?"

"Here!" I jumped, trying to tie my sneakers while holding the keys between my teeth.

It was already five to eight...adding traffic, we'd be there by quarter past eight.

I hated making Ross wait, especially since I was always his last patient which made us take our time without any restrictions.

"Dad I'm ready!" I called from the kitchen counter, fixing my hair in the mirror across from me.

"Coming!" He rushed down the stairs, walking with me to the door. "Did you take your meds?"

"Yes," I said before sitting in the car, watching him get in after me.

As much as I loved feeling safe for a certain amount of time after taking them, all I felt like doing was dodging them.

I didn't want to be dependent on a medicine. It felt awfully unnatural.

I wanted to make my body naturally immune to being anxious, if not completely, then partly.

Traffic wasn't as awful as we thought it would be and we were by the building in no time.

"Call me after you finish, alright?"

"Okay," I mumbled before getting out of the car to walk to the main entrance of the building.

Nonrealism is saying the walk from the entrance to the elevator is way longer than the ride.

I sound mental, and I have the rights to do so after three days of not seeing him since he confessed his love. How was I supposed to face the hazel, captivating, love dripping eyes after what they cried to me?

"Dr. Lynch is waiting for you, Lia." Michelle smiled at me, making me softly beam at her before knocking on the large door.

"Come in," I heard his faint mumble making my heart race, causing me some trouble containing my nerves to slide the door.

Out of habit, I hugged him just the way I do before every session. I hated that being this close to him this time intimidated me way too much. I could sense his tense body and how it slightly shuddered to my touch.

"How've you been?" He said, making me blush courtesy of his raspy, tired voice.

"Okay," I sighed, making him pull away to softly smile at me. "A little insomniac though."

"Did you stop taking the pills?" He walked to his desk, grabbing the notepad as I made my way to the lounge chair.

"I kind of decreased the dosage," I bit my lip, watching him take a few apparatuses before walking to his chair beside me.

"Why?"

His cold words brought fire inside my heart. How could he seem so oblivious after what happened between us?

"I just uh," I stuttered, watching him prepare my arm for the blood pressure meter, "I felt confined by it."

I stared at his concentrated features as the pressure squeezed my skin.

He was too beautiful to not stare at. My eyes undressed his heart slowly, reflecting it on his beautiful face. I drank all his feelings, instantly becoming love drunk.

I loved him too much.

I felt love towards him.

"I understand," he sighed, taking off the apparatus from my arm to note down my monthly updated medical report. "Though, the ones I wrote for you aren't to decrease the rate of your anxiety attacks. They're only to ease tension. They're supposed to decrease your heart rate a little."

He furrowed his eyebrows, bringing his stethoscope to my chest, immediately causing my breath to hitch after my heart skipped a beat, "but, I don't see that happening."

He took the tools away, looking into my eyes dominantly which I don't think was to my body's liking.

"Could you bring your hair to the side?" He mumbled, making me raise my eyes brows. "Huh? Oh."

I brought my loose hair to my shoulder, blushing in embarrassment, mentally cursing at my nervousness.

His fingers went to my neck, a little below my ear, spreading silence around us as my mind screamed.

His blonde, messy, soft strands...his eyelashes, his lips...everything about him brought fire inside my body.

I just want to take his heart in my hands and kiss every sad beat out of it.

His hands left my neck to hold my hands making me shake lightly. He brought his fingers on my wrist, pressing on it as his eyes stared at me.

I think he should've known by now that the cause of my rapid pulse is him. Was he trying to see where my limits were?

"It's natural for puberty, having a quick heart pace."

For fuck's sake doctor...

"You don't have to stop the medications though. They don't affect any hormones and they're no where near addictive, and you'll be able to carry out naturally without them. I only wrote them to decrease your heart pace a little since it's always way too rapid."

Perhaps that's because the only time I measure my heart pace is with you around...

"Now," he sighed heavily, putting his tools away to look at me, "shall we start?"

I nodded, smiling lightly. "My mother..."

"What about her?" he sat up in his chair as I took a deep breath, making him nod in encouragement.

"I want to see her," I paused, slowly recalling last night's dream as he left his note, "I want to ask her why."

He leaned forward placing his chin on his hands, his elbows rested on his knees, "and why do you think that's a good idea?"

"Seeing her?"

"Asking her why," he raised his eyebrows, making me stare at the high ceiling.

"I just," my voice cracked, as he brought his chair closer, taking his notes back on his lap. "I need to know how she had the heart to do it."

His closeness squeezed my heart and clenched my breath, almost sucking the sadness out of my soul.

I tried to hold it back, but all my effort came in vain. My tears streamed down my cheeks, taking all the stress away...all my locked up thoughts and emotions, I let them all out to him.

He stared at me, his eyes radiating all the rage he could possibly eject.

I took the handkerchief he handed me, mentally begging him to never leave my stare.

"Hear me now, Lia," he grew in rage through his eyes, in softness through his voice, "such people have a dead heart. You never mourn over dead hearts of soulless bodies. Pick your heart off the floor, Lia. There's an alternative right in front of your eyes...take it."

I pouted, nodding slowly, doing nothing but staring back at his eyes.

"Rydel," I tried to choke out, ending up only mouthing her name, "has a daughter."

"I know," his voice lowered in even more softness, "Don't even try to socialize with her."

"Why?"

"You'll find out why," his stare grew in seriousness, making me frown, pouting as I tried to seek calmness in his stare.

"Jackson is..."

"Jackson is going to hurt you."

"...He can't hurt me whe..."

"He can," his voice cracked as I slowly shook my head, remembering how my date with him yesterday went. "So you stay away from him."

"What?"

"You stay away from him, Lia. No more Jackson. Jackson gone. Poof."

My chin trembled before I stood up, my heart raging with fire.

How could he? How could he suddenly turn too cold when our last encounter was fire hot?

"Stop acting so oblivious!" My voice arose on him, my body trembled hard, and staring at him for too long brought my tears on the verge of exploding.

I wanted, too badly, to rip off the curtain he was trying to slide between us. It burned my heart, seeing him that way. It made my eyes leave his stare, just to prevent crying.

"Lia..."

"Why are you doing this?" I found the courage to look back into his astonished eyes, "first you tell me to get closer to Jackson, then you convince me to give him what he wants, kiss him, go out with him and then he's all of a sudden a player who's going to break my heart."

"Lia, please. I didn't he's a player..."

"What are you trying to say then, Ross?" I watched him stand up, trying to reach for my arm making me immediately step back from him. My body couldn't let him try to ease me effortlessly...he needed to know he sent me beyond my feelings. "Am I supposed to be here for a clearer mind or for an even sicker one?"

"Lia please," I could see his pain through his hazel eyes...and I knew too well my actions were the ones which hurt him the most. "I didn't mean that."

"Yeah...just the way you didn't when you kissed me...or when you told me that you loved me."

If guilt had a face it would be his eyes. If regret had lips, they would be my kiss.

Though regret alone brought my heart to my feet...and its beats travelled to the door with a thud before it left. And guilt fell to weak knees, stressing its unconsciousness in a pair of fists, slamming to the door with a loud cuss.

I believed my heart's pumped blood was my tears.