"I don't know," voice one continues. "I saw them in the parking lot last week. Standing really close. And the way she looks at him when she thinks no one's watching? There's definitely something there."
"No way. She's way too professional for that. Plus, hello, ethics violation much? She's his therapist."
"Ethics, schmethics. Chemistry like that doesn't care about the rules. And I'm telling you, there's definitely chemistry."
Their voices drift as they move to the sinks. Water runs. Hand dryers blast.
"I guess time will tell," voice one says as their voices move toward the door. "But if you're right, she's risking a lot. Her dad would flip if he found out."
"Worth it though, if the rumors about Barnesy are true. All those tattoos? You know what they say about guys with tattoos..."
Their laughter fades as the door swings shut behind them. I remain frozen in the stall, pulse thudding in my ears. Someone knows. Or at least suspects. How many others have noticed? How many whispered conversations like this one have happened when I wasn't around to hear them?
I wait five long minutes before emerging, checking to make sure the restroom is empty. My reflection stares back at me, cheeks flushed with mortification, as I wash my hands. I need help. I need to talk to someone before I totally lose my mind.
When I get back to my office, I lock the door behind me and pull out my phone. My fingers move automatically, dialing the one person who won't judge me—at least not too harshly.
Reese answers on the third ring. “Hey, girl!”
"I'm sleeping with a client."
Silence. Then: "I'm sorry, I think I hallucinated. It sounded like you said?—"
"I'm sleeping with a client, Reese. A hockey player. On my dad's team."
More silence, longer this time. I can picture her, glasses perched on her nose, her phone pressed so tightly to her ear that it leaves a mark. I hear her whisper to her teaching assistant tht she needs to step out of class.
"Holy shit, Elena." Her voice drops to a whisper and I can tell she’s in the school hall now. "Are you serious right now?"
"Dead serious." I sink into my chair, suddenly exhausted. "And it gets worse. It's Nate Barnes."
"TheNate Barnes? The one who got traded multiple times for being such an asshole? The one your dad specifically hired you to fix?"
"That's the one."
"Jesus Christ, Elena. What were you thinking?" There’s no judgment in her tone, just genuine confusion. That's why I called her.
"I wasn't thinking. That's the problem." I rub my forehead, feeling a headache forming. "It started before I knew who he was. We met at the hotel bar and spent the night together. Then he walked into my office the next day for his first session with me."
"Oh my god." She sounds both horrified and fascinated. "So you only slept with him once? Please tell me it was a one-time thing."
I don't answer. The silence stretches.
"Elena Maria Martinez." She uses my full name, something she only does when she's truly alarmed. "Tell me you didn't continue sleeping with him after you knew he was your client."
"I tried to stop." My voice sounds small. "I really did. But then we had a session, and he was vulnerable and real, and somehow we ended up... on my desk."
"Your desk? In your office?" Her voice rises an octave. "Are youtryingto get fired? Do you know what your dad would do if he knew about this?"
"Of course I know!" I snap, then immediately regret it. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I don't know what's wrong with me, Reese. This isn't me. I don't do things like this."
"Clearly you do." Her tone softens slightly. "What is it about this guy? Is the sex that good?"
I feel my face flush. "Yes. But it's not just that. He's... complicated. There's so much more to him than his bad boy reputation. He had this horrible childhood trauma that shaped everything about him. He's fighting so hard to change. And when he lets down his guard, when he's really himself..."
"Oh no." Reese's voice drops. "You're falling for him."
"No. Maybe. I don't know." I press my fingers against my closed eyelids. "It doesn't matter anyway. It has to stop. People are starting to talk. I just overheard two staff members speculating about us in the bathroom."
