Every session, he attempts to drag the conversation back to the notorious prom incident. Wayne and I both agree that Arnold needs a little more than addiction counseling. He also wonders why there’s no mention of a mental health diagnosis in any of Arnold’s medical files because he has obvious psychological issues.

I sigh and ask the one question I’ve dreaded since Arnold walked into my office for his appointment. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

“I know you said last time that I couldn’t re-tell my story about prom, but I really feel like talking about the situation helps,” he explains.

“Arnold, I don’t think rehashing the same story over and over is beneficial. We need to focus on your current issues and try to pinpoint where to begin getting you back on track,” I explain.

“I know, but...”

I sit and listen to Arnold babble on for twenty minutes about how we need to discuss his prom incident anyway, inadvertently allowing him to get his way by talking about the incident without directly talking about it.

Really, it doesn’t matter what he’s talking about because my mind is focused on how my next appointment is going to go. It’s been two weeks since Tyke and I decided to start over. Two weeks where I’ve had to pretend that I don’t miss his touch. Two weeks since thoughts of him have overtaken my brain.

I’ll admit things have been smoother between us with keeping our distance. It’s actually been a lot easier to let my guard down around him now that he knows my secret, but it’s been difficult to pretend that my body doesn’t crave him.

A knock on my door jolts my body alive. “Sounds like my next appointment is here, Arnold. We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow.”

“Okay, Frannie,” he replies as he gets up and heads for the door.

The moment he opens it, Tyke’s face comes into view. I take a moment to admire him as he struts into my office. His T-shirt accentuates the definition in his toned chest while his faded blue jeans hug his ass just right.

Stop it! I mentally scold myself. Stop thinking of him and his insanely sexy body.

I square my shoulders and do my best to block out the fact that he’s getting to me. Tyke sits on the couch with his notebook in hand, tapping a beat out with his thumbs as I take my seat across from him.

“Were you able to think of any new songs?” I ask, just as I’ve done at the start of every one of our sessions.

He’s been pretty reserved and hasn’t written anything inside it since the session where he accused me of playing games with him.

He nods. “I did.”

This surprises me. I didn’t expect him to cooperate, but I’m pleased that he’s giving it another shot. “What did you come up with?”

He sighs. “I’ve been working on a new song. The lyrics aren’t quite ready to share, but I did write down another song title.”

I catch myself leaning toward him, my chin propped up by my hand. “Will you tell me what it is?”

A selfish part of me hopes that it’s another song about me. I know it’s wrong to want that, but I like the idea of him still wanting me like I want him.

“It’s called “Through the Glass” by Stone Sour.”

I quickly flip through the mental listings I have of songs. That particular one doesn’t resonate. “I don’t think I know that one.”

Tyke closes his eyes and begins to sing. The lyrics are haunting and move me to my very soul. It’s about a man looking at the person he loves through the glass and how when he gets asked questions, people expect in-depth answers from him.

That line really hits home. Every time I see him, I ask him how he feels, but he always holds back, never giving me the complex truth I know he’s hiding behind his smile.

I close my eyes along with him, allowing myself to get lost in the words he’s singing. This song may not be about me, but it sure feels like it. More than anything, I wish we could’ve met under different circumstances—in a time when we both weren’t trying to overcome our demons.

But rewinding time isn’t possible. There’s nothing left but to trudge forward and see what our current situation holds.

When he finishes, I open my eyes to find his green eyes focused directly on me. The right thing to do in this situation would be to drive home the point that, no matter how we both feel, we’re still off-limits to one another. But I can’t bring myself to do it. The look in his eyes...it’s the same one I saw that day out by the fountain. The one that made me ache for him, and lose all resolve once I found out he was thinking of me while he was expressing so much hurt. I feel the same desire to say fuck the rules and allow myself to have him right now, but I take a deep breath and will that feeling away.

“That was beautiful,” I tell him. “Sad, but beautiful.”

He nods. “Kind of like us together. We’re beautiful, but we both have an aching sadness inside.”

I smile. “Have you ever thought about becoming a counselor?”

He laughs. “I guess I do sound like one, huh?”

“A little,” I tease but then clear my throat, ready to ask questions that I know will be hard for me to hear the answers to. “Do I even want to know what made you choose that song?”

Tyke shrugs. “I’m sure it’s not hard to guess that part of it is directed at you. The other part is about my brother.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Trip?”