Billionaire Happy After

Sardonic grin

I am tired of this place,

I hope people change.

I need time to replace,

What I gave away.

And my hopes, they are high,

I must keep them small.

"Fools" - Troye Sivan

I still hated therapy.

Okay, so Damon wasn't as bad as I thought he would be, but I still hated talking to him.

What I hated the most was his technique to get me to talk. Which I knew didn't really make sense, because if I hated it more than I hated talking, then why didn't I just talk?

I don't know.

Maybe I really am a masochist.

Damon would just stare at me, calmly with the clock announcing every minute that ticked by, as if he had all the time in the world. Which I mean, it probably wasn't a big deal since he was making like five bucks for every minute we sat there in silence.

"Do you do this with everyone who hires you?" I blurted out. "'Cause it seems like a pretty profitable job for the amount of effort you put in."

Wow, Georgia you're such a nice person.

Damon raised an eyebrow.

"But like," I continued for some inane reason, "aren't you afraid your patients will replace you with a blow up doll or something?"

Ah, and you thought you couldn't say anything worse.

His mouth twitched, but he also let out a deep sigh so I couldn't tell if he had been fighting a smile or if it had been a random muscle spasm. "I hadn't planned to talk about this with you today, Georgia ," he said.

I stared at him. "What?"

"But do you think of blow up dolls often?" he asked.

"W-What?" I sputtered. "No! And it wouldn't be any- Why do you- No."

He started writing something down.

"What are you writing down?" I demanded. "How is any of this- This isn't even relevant!"

Damon looked up. "It's my job to help you deal with problems and ensure that you're happy. s****l health can play a big role in one's happiness."

My cheeks flamed. "I'd be a lot happier if we stopped talking about this."

"What do you think is of greater importance for us to talk about?" he asked. "What's distressing you?"

"The road trip," I muttered, glaring down at the floor as if I could burn a hole in it and make Damon fall through. I totally should've been able to with how hot my face felt.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"The road trip," I yelled, raising my head so I could glare at him. "Hap- You planned this," I accused when I caught sight of his slight grin.

He shrugged in response.

"What's your obsession with this road trip anyway? I already told you it went fine," I said. I knew Damon would ask about the road trip since he had been so determined to get me to go, but I didn't want to tell him about all the s**t that had happened with Christian . I'd told him about the universities- the ones we'd gone to at least- but he hadn't been satisfied with that.

Damon leaned forward, setting his elbows on his desk and linking his fingers together before resting his chin on his hands.

"Why do you sit behind a desk? I feel like I'm at the principle's office," I stalled. "Shouldn't I be lying down on a couch or something?"

"You know there's a couch and you're welcome to use it if you want, Georgia ," he replied. I got up without meeting his eye and moved to the couch. I sunk into the soft, cold leather and stared up at white crown molding dividing the pale blue walls from the ivory ceiling.

I heard Damon’s chair scrape back and a rustle of papers before I felt him settle into a chair closer to me. "Usually when someone doesn't want to talk about something, it's what they've been thinking about the most," he remarked.

Okay so maybe he has teeny tiny, basically minuscule point.

I hadn't talked to Christian since we'd gotten back four days ago. I mean, I only had one class with him, Computer Science, and we sat across the room from each other, plus it wasn't like that was a class with a lot of group work so it wasn't like we had any reason to talk. And I hadn't really expected us to be best friends or anything.

I mean, it wasn't like we had ended the road trip on the best terms. The hour and a half drive from Berkeley back to Sydcot had been silent and tense. Christian had stayed in the back, sleeping, or faking sleep so he didn't have to talk to me, I couldn't tell. We hadn't spoken other than short, stilted goodbyes when I was grabbing my stuff after arriving at my house but other than that.

I don't even know why I'd felt slightly, just a tiny bit, disappointed when he'd stared past me the last couple of days. Not even a nod of recognition or anything. I mean, it wasn't like I had searched for him in class, or looked up every time the door opened or anything- he was never in class before I was- I'd just figured it wouldn't be nothing.

He's run me over with his car.

I've bailed him out of jail.

Okay, maybe it doesn't really count as bailing, since he wasn't technically arrested, but still.

We've cuddled in the cold.

We've f****d.

And I don't even get a nod.

I twisted my head to look at Damon. "You know, I feel like being a therapist is a very good job for someone who's nosy."

He gave me a wry smile. "I won't deny that."

I tipped my head to look back up at the ceiling. "I don't know what to say."

"Well, you had apprehensions about going on the trip before," Damon replied. "How do you feel now?"

I shrugged as much as I could without lifting any part my body. "It wasn't life changing or anything."

"Was it difficult since you said Christian reminded you of Lucas "

"He still kind of does. Not just in the physical sense." The way they could both be so charming one moment and so cold the next.

"How was it with Christian ?" Damon asked.

I traced imaginary figures in the ceiling with my eyes. "We talked."

"How do you like him?"

I don't.

"He's okay," I said instead.

Damon didn't respond but I heard him writing something down.

"Why does it matter?" I asked, even though I didn't really expect him to respond.

To my surprise, he did. "Just seeing how you feel about making new friends."

"I'm not against making new friends," I protested. "I just don't have a lot in common with him."

He let out a quiet chuckle. "I find that hard to believe."

Wait, what?

I shot up to a sitting position so I could stare at Damon. "I thought you said you didn't know him! You said you only knew of him!" I exclaimed. "Is he a patient of yours? Are you trying to hook us up or something? Is that even legal?"

"I'm not seeing Christian , no," he said.

"But you saw him?" I asked. "For what?"

He shook his head. "Christian was never a patient. Besides, you know I can't reveal that sort of information, Georgia ."

"How do you know him then?" I mean, it couldn't just be like internet or tabloids or anything, if Damon had felt like he knew Christian well enough to think we were similar. Which we weren't. But he had known enough that he felt like I should go on the road trip. And I was pretty sure Christian and Damon didn't run in the same friend group or some s**t.

"He's an acquaintance of a friend," he replied with a slight grin. "What I'm interested in though, is why you immediately believed I was attempting to hook you up."

"It wasn't-" How do I get out of this? "Why do you take everything I say so literally?"

"Words, however casual, or brash often reveal a lot," he said.

I clamped my mouth shut.

He stared at me for a long moment, then wrote something down in that note pad of his.

"What are you always writing? I didn't say anything!" Come on, this is ridiculous.

Devon didn't respond, just kept writing.

What the f**k?

I didn't care if it was against therapy rules- I darted up and grabbed the paper from him. Since he was in the middle of a word, it caused a long ink line down the rest of the page and a slight tear, but I didn't care.

I scanned it quickly.

-Appears to have s*x on the mind but unwilling to discuss it

-Uncomfortable about topics of the s****l nature... Prudish (?)

-Christian still reminds her of Lucas

-Unwilling to talk about Christian

-Something, most likely of the s****l nature, occurred on the road trip with Christian

My cheeks flamed. "I'm not prudish!"

How can he tell something happened with Christian?

I didn't even say anything!

Do they teach mind-reading in Psychology 101 or some s**t?

Damon raised an eyebrow.

"Well, excuse me if I don't want to discuss my s*x life with my therapist!"

"So are you admitting you have one?" he asked.

A horrifying sort of half screech half groan escaped my throat.

"I'm just kidding, Georgia ," he replied.

"This isn't therapeutic at all!" I cried. "None of these seem even remotely psychoanalytical."

He laughed. "Those are just notes. I record my analysis for my records."

"How advanced of you," I muttered, handing the sheet back to him. "You were wrong about all of these by the way." Okay that might've been kind of childish. And sulky. But still. This s**t so was not fair.

"I'm fairly certain I'm right on all counts," he said. "Especially the last one."

I groaned -for real this time, no mortified screech mixed in- and sunk back down on the couch. "We were just friends."

"Alright, Georgia . I believe you," he replied in a sort of tone that clearly showed he didn't believe me at all. "How was your friendship?"

"Well, we're not friends anymore," I mumbled. I don't even get a f*****g head nod.

But whatever, I don't care.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice deepening as his expression became more serious.

"I mean, it's not like we were good friends. He reminded me of Lucas and I reminded him of his ex-girlfriend..." I remembered Ares words. "Or I don't know, some girl he didn't want to remember."

"Are you upset that you're no longer friends?"

I shrugged. "I mean the good moments were good." The ice cream. The teasing. The driving. The new phone. Even the s*x. "But those never last."

Damon surprised me as we were ending our session.

"Since you've upheld your end of the bargain," he said. "I should uphold mine."

For a moment, I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Then I realized.

I gulped. "You mean, going to see Lucas?"

He nodded.

"Today?"

Another nod.

"Now?"

His brow furrowed. "We don't have to, Georgia "

I shook my head. "No, no. I want to." You wanted answers, Georgia. This is what you want.

I followed him out and waited as he shut the lights and locked the doors. He waved goodbye to his receptionist after wishing her a good night and we stepped into the mild humidity outside. Damon led me to his car, gesturing for me to get in the passenger seat.

"I'm going to see a patient today," he explained as he pulled onto the road. "I spoke with his' psychologist and he agreed to allow you to see him."

"If they have their own doctors, why are you seeing someone in there?" I asked. Wait, that's insensitive. I flushed. "Wait, you mean in the personal capacity. Sorry."

Damon shook his head. "It's a special case. I'm not treating her primarily."

"Oh." I debated asking more questions, but I doubted he would answer and it really wasn't any of my business.

He glanced over at me as he stopped at a red light. "How's your journal coming?"

I shrugged. "I'm writing in it."

He chuckled. "That's good."

"I think of Lucas more than I should." It didn't matter how much I swore I wouldn't. I'd see something that reminded me of him, or my mind would wander, remembering something he'd said or done. I kept looking back, at the beginning, and the weeks before, trying to see if I'd missed some kind of sign of what was coming.

"That's alright, Georgia ," Damon said. "You're not expected to just forget him."

I scoffed. "I'm pretty sure that's what my parents want. I'm pretty sure they'd rather I never met him at all."

"Most people would relish the ability to go back and make another choice." The light changed and he drove forward. Closer to Nik.

What would I even say to him?

All this time, I'd wanted to just talk to him.

But now that I was going to, I had no idea what I would say.

"I wish I'd never met him," I muttered. How different my life would be. We'd still be living in our old home. I'd still be going to hang out with my old friends. I'd still have my GPA. Shay would still be here. Beau would still be here. My brother would still be here. Or maybe, they technically wouldn't, since they'd be going to university, but things wouldn't have happened the way they did.

Devon didn't respond as he pulled onto the highway. He turned on the radio, allowing me to get lost in my thoughts as the miles flew by. All too soon, we were at the gate for Hampton Hills' Psychiatric Ward.

"I don't know if I can do this," I blurted out. How would talking to Lucas again feel? I'd seen him again, but only for brief moments that had left me more confused.

Damon gave me a concerned look. "You don't have to, Georgia . Would you like to turn back now?"

"Don't you have to see your person?" I asked, stalling even as the gate opened.

"I'm more concerned about you," he replied.

"Will you be there the whole time?" I wasn't sure if I wanted someone listening to whatever Lucas and I ended up talking about.

"Do you want me to be?"

I hesitated, then shook my head.

"Then I won't," he said. "I'll be in the room, but I won't sit with you guys."

I sucked in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "Okay, let's do it."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

I nodded. I wasn't completely confident that my voice wouldn't shake if I responded verbally. Damon eased forward and soon enough we arrived at the main entrance. He parked to the side then led me in through the front. He greeted the receptionist, who seemed to recognize him and waved him through. A couple guards checked our things before bringing us to a well lit room filled with tables and chairs.

There were a couple people scattered around, but few enough that the room was still rather quiet. My breath caught when I noticed Lucas sitting at a table with an older, well-dressed man. A little black box sat on the table in front of them.

"Damon ," the man greeted, standing up when we approached. He was refined in a way that made me think of old European aristocracy, with a sharp nose and deep set eyes. Grey peppered his dark receding hairline and he had a slight pouch, yet managed to look put together and distinguished. He didn't look mean, but he also didn't look like someone I wanted to spill my guts to.

At least Damon had an easy going smile that made you think he wanted to be your friend.

Lucas kept his eyes on me, a slight smirk on his face. It was almost easygoing and familiar, but I found it cold now, of course, in a way that I hadn't before.

"Ricky," Damon replied. "This is Georgia Benjamin . Georgia this is Doctor Ricky Boardman."

I forced a smile. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Boardman"

He inclined his head.

Damon glanced at me.

I gave him a slight nod.

"Let's give them some privacy," he suggested, leading Dr. Boardman away. I watched as they moved to a doorway before taking a seat across from Lucas.

He raised an eyebrow. "You came back."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. "I guess I did," I said finally.

He nodded to the black box still on the table. "The good doctor insisted that this conversation's recorded."

"You know why I'm here, Lucas " I stated. "Why can't you just give me some measure of peace?"

"Talk to me," he countered. "We haven't talked in a while, Gigs."

I held back a flinch at the familiar nickname. "I don't want to play games."

"It's just a conversation. Small talk," he said. "Isn't that what normal people do?"

I sighed. "How have you been?" I gritted out, indulging him.

He shrugged. "I have to do a lot more talking than I'm used to. He asks a lot about you."

"You doctor? Why?" Damon asked me a lot about Lucas but that's because my parents hired him to help me get over Lucas . Lucas probably never really cared about me, so there was no point in him discussing me with his doctor. But maybe he'd never told his doctor that. It couldn't be hard to assume though. I mean, you just gotta show how much you care about someone by setting their house on fire, right?

"Trying to figure out if I hate woman because my mom died when I was young," he said. "All that psycho babble bullshit."

"Do you?" I folded my hands on the table so I wouldn't twist my fingers and fidget. "Hate woman?"

"That'd be the easy way out, wouldn't it?" He reached across and pulled my hands apart, intertwining our fingers so they were locked together. I tried to pull away but he just gripped me tighter. "Everyone thinks I'm crazy, why don't you?"

I gulped, staring at our hands. I used to love the way his hands were so much bigger than mine. And how when we held hands, his always felt warm, surrounding mine. "I never said I didn't think you were crazy."

"You just don't think that's why I did it," he mocked. "Maybe I just snapped."

"What do you want from me, Lucas?”I asked. "Haven't you ruined my life enough?"

"What do you want me to say, Luce?" he countered. "That someone forced me to do it?"

"Did someone?"

His lips twisted into a sardonic grin. "Not many people can force me to do anything."

I yanked my hands away from him. "You're playing games with me again."

He leaned forward, his blue eyes boring deep, as if he could see straight into my soul. "I think, you still care."

I shook my head wildly. "I hate you."

"You love me," he replied.

I found myself, drifting forward until our lips almost brushed before I caught myself and jerked back.

What the hell was I thinking, believing I could somehow handle Lucas just because he was in a mental institution and it was on my terms? He was going to make me question everything. Maybe I was here, because some stupid part of me still cared, and wanted him to say something like someone forced him to. Because somehow, that made it all okay.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

"I don't," I said. It came out a lot stronger than I thought it would. "And you're here. Locked up. You can't do anything to me anymore."

Especially not if I didn't give him any more shots like this.

I guess Dad was right, that it was a bad idea and I only learned upon seeing him myself.

"Oh, trust me, Gigs," He said with a laugh, drawing my eyes back to him

He reached across the table, his knuckles brushing across mine.