Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(83)

I wore a pair of ripped jeans, which exasperated Dad; he’d somehow gotten it into his head that Dr. Faber was ancient and would be offended by her teenage patient showing too much skin. He walked me all the way to her office, tutting about it, and then Dr. Faber opened the door, and she wasn’t ancient at all, but instead in her early thirties and wearing a sundress and clogs, tattoos winding around both of her arms, pink hair cut into an asymmetrical bob. I loved her immediately. I don’t see her as often as I used to, but her office, with its blue walls and abstract art, its collection of throw pillows and creaky old radiator, feels comforting. I don’t have any aunts of my own, but that’s what Dr. Faber has always felt like to me; a relative I can be honest with without fear of being judged. I can’t wait to tell her that the guy I’d been hooking up with is now my boyfriend.

“Did your dad drive you?” she asks.

I tuck my hair behind my ear, unable to hold back my smile. “My boyfriend did, actually.”

She smiles too. “Boyfriend? Penny, that’s wonderful. Is he the young man you mentioned at our last session?” She flips through her notes. “Just before Christmas, you mentioned you’d been experimenting with a guy named Cooper.”

“Yes. That’s him.”

She scribbles a note. “How did this happen?”

“We kind of… developed feelings, I guess, while we were working through the list I had. You know the one.”

She nods, still smiling. When I explained The List to her, back when we first started doing sessions, I expected concern, but she was all for me trying it one day, provided I was crossing off the items with someone I could truly see myself trusting. That’s why I like Dr. Faber; she’s always understood where I’m coming from and has never made me feel like my desires are wrong. “Does your dad know you’re dating?”

“Yeah. And he likes him. He already knew Cooper, you know? Because of the team.”

“Right, of course.” She settles back, recrossing her legs. “You sound good, Penny. Do you feel good?”

“Yeah.” I take a deep breath. “Really good. I… I really like him. He’s so different from Preston. I have fun with him, and I really think I’m starting to trust him.”

“That’s great.” She makes another note, giving me a gentle smile. “Let’s get into that in a moment, because I know what time of year it is, and I’m sure you haven’t forgotten either.”

The warmth running through me cools down. “No.”

“But I want to hear more about Cooper and your list. Did you cross off every item?”

“Almost.” I huff out a laugh. “I’m sure you know what’s left.”

“Vaginal sex?” Her voice is frank. That’s another thing I’ve always appreciated about her; she tells it like it is while still staying kind. It reminds me of Mom. She never met Dr. Faber, of course, but I think she would approve.

“I want to do it. I want to have that experience with him.”

“Has he expressed any feelings on the topic?”

“I’m sure he wants to.” I drag my teeth over my lower lip, considering it. “He’s never tried to pressure me or anything. And we have fun doing other things. But this would be really special, you know? Or at least I hope it would be, unlike last time.”

“Don’t rush, but I think that allowing yourself to have this experience could be an empowering one. Even more so than the other acts of control and reclamation of agency that you’ve engaged in with him.”

“You make it sound better than my roommate.”

She laughs. “That’s what it is, at its core, right? Taking back power. You’re powerful, Penny. The fact that you’ve given yourself so much space to explore your sexuality on your own terms is something you shouldn’t take lightly. The Penny I first met wouldn’t have done this.”

My throat feels blocked up suddenly, but I squeak out, “Thanks. I know. Sometimes I feel the same as I did back then, but then I remember that I’m not. I’m growing.”

She gives me a warm look, subtly nudging the tissues in my direction. She knows by now that I’m as likely to cry because I’m happy as I am because I’m sad.

“It’s almost February 18th,” she says, a careful note in her voice.

“Yeah.” I take a tissue, even though I’m not crying, and fold it into a little square. The first anniversary of the party, I was a mess; I could barely talk through my anger and panic. I’m better now, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to it—even if that date is Cooper’s birthday. If I can manage to get through it without having a panic attack, I’ll consider it a successful day. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

“Out of avoidance?”

“More like… out of stubbornness.” I shrug one shoulder. “It’s Cooper’s birthday, the 18th. I want to celebrate with him. I’m helping his siblings plan a surprise party for him. I don’t want to be a wreck, you know? And I haven’t had a true anxiety attack in ages. So, every time my mind brings it up, I try to redirect.”

“What coping strategies are you using?”

“Reminding myself that I can control my thoughts. Doing a breathing exercise. Taking a time out and reading for a few minutes instead. The stuff we’ve talked about.”