Page 58 of Devious Obsession
“I should get my blood tested. Go to the hospital or something.” I rise. “He can’t get away with this. I mean—he should pay.”
“The only paying that would happen would be his father taking away your spot at CPU and bribing whoever he had to at the hospital to bury it,” Thalia points out. “You said it yourself, you don’t trust the O’Briens. I think you meant his dad when you said it, but it applies to his son, too.”
I grimace. She’s right. Itdoesapply to both of them.
Steele calls me the viper—but he’s the snake.
16
ASPEN
“Aspen,” the man calls, standing at the door to the small lounge.
I rise and follow him down a hall, into an office. There’s a couch, a chair, a desk. A window. For some reason, I go to the window first, peering out of it. We’re on the fourth floor, all the way at the end of the Administration building on campus. From here, I can see all the students crossing the quad in that in-between period between classes or heading to the dining hall for an early dinner.
My stomach aches.
I haven’t eaten all day. Every time I think I should, I think of that video and I get nauseous. I made the mistake of attempting coffee, only to lose it a few minutes later.
And then I got the email.
“Aspen, I’m Michael Hauser.” The man who collected me from the waiting room closes the door. He’s got to be only a few years out of college. His red hair is combed neatly and held immobile. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
“I was told it was mandatory.” My voice is tight, and I sit on the windowsill. “Is that correct?”
He looks down at the folder in his hand. “Well, ah, yes.”
“And you’re a…?”
“Counselor.” He smiles. “I’m here to help with whatever you need. Especially after…”
I go still and wait for him to say it.
“After the past few weeks,” he ends, somewhat lamely.
At least be up front and admit that I’m here because of that stupid video. It was taken down last night, and a little bird—Willow—mentioned that Steele told everyone to delete it. I guess the cat’s out of the bag that our parents are married, so there’s that unfortunate truth out in the world, too.
I’ve kept my head buried in the sand.
Still, no one was more surprised than me to get a supportive text from Willow, and another quickly followed by Violet. Apparently, an ugly video was passed around of Violet last year. She was quick to assure me that everyone will move on quickly when more interesting gossip comes to light, and to keep my head up.
Right.
The counselor takes a seat in one of the armchairs where I remain in his line of sight. Although he seems unperturbed by my choice of placement. Instead, he says, “Let’s talk about how your week has been. What are you majoring in?”
“Just to clarify, you’re not a licensed therapist, correct?” I lean forward and swing my feet. My heels hit the wall with steady, softthumps.
He shifts. “That’s right.”
“So you don’t have to abide by HIPAA?”
“Oh, everything you say here is confidential—”
“You can tell me that all you want, but there’s no real repercussions if you don’t, right?”
“You’re right.” He sets aside the folder and notebook, his pen on top of it. “The whole reason you’re here is because the administration is concerned about you.”
“It’s mandatory that I show up here.” I lean back against the glass. The cold permeates through my shirt, and I fight the urge to shift away. Instead, I keep my hands completely still in my lap. “But if I can’t trust you, why would I talk to you?”
