“You seem anxious, Maddox,” he astutely observed. “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
I felt my entire body flush, causing me to sweat from the heat of embarrassment. “I—uh—I’ve been having these dreams.”
It was so hard for me to understand. I had wet dreams before. That wasn’t what bothered me. It was the star, and sometimes stars, of these dreams.
Before, it was usually Charolette Wayland, a high school sophomore I’d seen a few times in the music room. Then one night in Charolette’s place was Cian MacDonnell, another high schooler I’d bumped into a few times. The night before the visit with Murphey, it was both of them.
“Have you had these dreams before?”
I felt my face heat even more. It felt like my head was about to explode. “Yeah. I mean, yes, but not like this,” my voice cracked. and I wasn’t sure if it was nerves for the sound of puberty that had been apparent in my voice for the last six months.
“They’re perfectly normal, Maddox, but perhaps you’d feel better if you told me about them.”
My heart began to hammer so loud all I could hear was the roaring in my ears. I leaned forward with my head in my hands to hide my face and the fact my pants were getting tighter as I recalled the dream. Before I finished my recollection, a moan and a grunt cut through the room, drowning out my voice.
My head snapped up as I leaped from my chair in mortification and terror, knocking the chair over as I did. Murphey didn’t even stop, his eyes locked on mine.
“What—what—” I couldn’t even finish my thought. All I knew was this was wrong, and I needed out of there fast.
I turned to run. To get the hell out of there as quickly as possible,but I didn’t make it. He stood in front of the door, blocking my exit.
“Don’t run, Maddox. That was perfectly natural. It’s what we are made to do.”
I shook my head quickly in denial. “That—no—I mean—” I stammered over my words as my knees shook violently.
“You can’t go out there like that,” he gestured to the erection straining my pants. My humiliation grew, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
He moved towards me,and I backed away. It didn’t deter him. He kept backing me up until my back hit the bookshelf across the room.
“Let me help you, Maddox.”
I shook my head again, only finding a single word. “No.”
He placed one hand on my shoulder, holding me in place with painful pressure, making me wince. The other hand dropped lower. “Perfectly natural,” he repeated as he dropped to his knees.
I was frozen. My muscles were stiff. My voice wouldn’t work. I threw my head back against the shelf, squeezing my eyes shut, and I retreated deep into my mind. Pretending I was anywhere but there.
Shame. So much shame engulfed me. They were right. I was smart. So, logically I knew I could not control my body’s response.
That understanding did nothing to ease the torment in my mind, to stop the torrential downpour of emotions—guilt, shame, humiliation, confusion, anger—that flooded my soul.
Tears stung my eyes. I swiped with fury when one escaped. At that moment, I felt anything but strong, but I was a Masters. We did not show weakness. Even in our weakest moments.
I started to run for the door again, ready to call my dad—to beg him to bring me home, when Murphey called out to me. “Before you get any ideas about telling anyone what just happened here, I want you to think about how embarrassing all of this would be for your father. How disappointed he would be for you to cause him more trouble.”
I swallowed hard, knowing he was right. This would cause so much trouble.
“See you next week, Maddox,” he winked and smiled.
I was out of the office, down the three flights of stairs, and out of the building in thirty seconds. Soon as my feet touched the landing, I threw myself over the railing and emptied the contents of my stomach.
The rest of that week, I told everyone I was sick. It was a lie.
Except every time I closed my eyes, my stomach turned. Every time my eyes were open, I was afraid the truth could be seen.
By the next appointment with Murphey O’Dell, I was hyperventilating. Terrified that a repeat of the week before was on the horizon. When I took my seat across from him, I was shaking so violently the chair vibrated.
“Take these, Maddox,” he demanded as he thrust pills into my hand.
