Spinning Out✔️

40. I Hope...

Luna's POV

One day later

August 5th

"So you finally told everyone?"

I sighed, hating having to go through this whole catch-up process. "Yep. Took me forever but I finally got around to it."

Dr. Glassman looked up from her notes and crossed her legs, staring at me with an amused look.

"And how did that feel?"

I shrugged, looking out of the ceiling to floor windows of her office. I could see the ongoing traffic of downtown Manhattan, the sounds filtering in and out. The sun was hidden through the puffy white clouds, leaving a haze of brightness.

Her office was large. With a shelf full of books and a large couch, I sat across from her chair with a coffee table in between us.

The stereotype about stress toys and little gadgets in therapy offices wasn't wrong. She had a bucket full of them and I was currently squeezing the shit out of a squishy frog.

"Freeing."

"Good."

I bit the inside of my cheeks, staring at the clock on the opposite wall. I still had so much time left.

Dr. Glassman was pragmatic and concise. She asked a question and I answered. If it needed further discussion she'd ask more questions. I didn't mind saying the truth. It was the talking about 'how it made me feel' that I wasn't good at.

"So nothing else has changed between you and friends since we last spoke?"

"Not really," I answered plainly. "We're closer maybe, but nothing major has changed."

She looked down at her notes and tapped her pen on the paper. "And Carmen..." She looked up at me. "...you said she came up for the summer. What's your relationship like?"

"She's like my sister. We're super close."

Brief and short. Eventually, I'd get out of here.

She held her gaze on me for a moment and I watched her mouth twist. She knew what I was doing.

"Has anything in your career changed since last?"

"Nope."

"How about your daily schedule?"

"Same old, same old."

"Diet? Your relationship with food?"

"Nope."

I squeezed the frog, feeling the foam of the toy molding and expanding in my fingers.

"Boyfriend?" She eyed me carefully, seeming to notice something about my face. "Last I remembered you were in a relationship with Leo? Your dance partner?"

Ah shit.

"We broke up. He cheated. He moved to a different team and we don't talk anymore." I listed it off like a grocery list, sounding unaffected and stiff.

This seemed to fascinate her and she's scribbled something down, gearing up to ask me something else.

"I remember how we spoke about how you like to have your life in control in a specific way as a way to manage your stress."

"Yeah, less stress means fewer seizures. That hasn't changed."

"And how did you deal with the change? Did it feel like everything was out of your control?"

That was an understatement.

"I didn't," I snorted. "You have my files. You know when I had my seizures. They line up perfectly with all the things that happened."