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"Are you going to be alright for the next two months?"

I glance away from the window, my gaze landing on Nichole. She's uncomfortably pregnant and referring to her maternity leave.

"You know that you can talk to someone else on campus if you need to," she adds quickly.

I put on my best smile in hopes of reassuring her. "I'll be fine," I tell her, but my voice cracks at the last second, giving away my uncertainty.

Nichole has been my therapist since I first came to Denver University a year ago, and although I know I'll need the support, it's too exhausting to have to explain everything over again to a new person. Not to mention the anxiety it would most likely bring with it.

As if reading my mind, her expression softens. "I'll write down a few names for you just in case." She grabs a pen from the desk and scribbles furiously over a pad of paper, almost as though she's afraid if she doesn't get the names down fast enough that I'll refuse. I don't blame her for it, a year ago I just might have done that. "Here you go," she says, thrusting out a piece of paper at me. I take it and stuff it into the front pocket of my book bag without bothering to read over it.

"This is going to be a good thing for you Mabel." Nichole pushes her blonde bangs from her face and glances at the thermostat. I don't have the heart to tell her that it's already freezing in here, so I just wrap my hoodie tighter around myself.

"Would it be selfish if I ask you to stay?" I ask with a half-hearted laugh.

Her warm brown eyes return to my face and a sad smile tugs one side of her mouth up. "No Mabel," she murmurs gently, reaching out to touch my arm. "In fact, I'm happy you're voicing your needs. It's proof that we've made progress."

I can't hold back the dry laugh that erupts from my chest. "If you say so."

I know deep down that she's right. When I came to here as a freshman I was completely unsure of myself and terrified of the world. Terrified that someone would be like him. I was skipping classes, staying locked up in my dorm room twenty-four-seven, and ridiculously close to becoming a complete shut-in. Things haven't gotten much better, but I make it to all of my classes and participate when called upon, and I've even made a few friends. The fear is still there, but it doesn't surface nearly as often as it used to.

"So what are your plans for the holidays? Are you going home?" Nichole asks nonchalantly, but she and I both know the weight of her words.

It wasn't your fault, I tell myself as I wring my hands in my lap. I clear my throat noisily. "No. Aunt Jo is having Thanksgiving with her husband's family this year."

"And your father?" Nichole presses, her eyes searching for any signs of distress. "Have you thought about visiting him?"

"I don't want to ever see that asshole again," I tell her earnestly, unashamed as the curse word leaves my lips. My father deserves the name. In fact, he probably deserves a lot worse, but I bite my tongue.

Nichole doesn't mind the cussing, she's all about expressing one's self, and understands that sometimes that involves using a few f-bombs or calling someone out for what they are. Despite that, I'm still relieved that she doesn't get angry about my use of language.

"It's okay if you're not ready. You don't have to let him back into your life if you don't want to." The muscles along my spine relax at her words. How long had I been sitting like that? "Remember, you are in control now. Not him."

"I'm in control," I repeat back in a whisper.

Once upon a time I might have been embarrassed to need this kind of encouragement, but it helps to know that no one owns me but myself. It helps even more to say it out loud.

"I'll see you next semester after break," Nichole says as she gets up to stretch her legs. She wobbles over to the window and opens it to stand in the cool fall breeze. "I want you to keep pushing yourself to try new things, okay?"

I give her a nod as I gather up my belongings from by my feet. "Good luck with the baby."

"Thank you, that means a lot to me, Mabel," she replies, and I know she's not lying. I had been a brat when I found out earlier in the year that she would be leaving, but we worked hard in the time we had before this point to ensure that I would be ready. According to Nichole, I am.

"Don't forget about that list of therapists," she calls after me as my hand reaches for the door knob. I glance back at her from over my shoulder to find she's staring right back at me, her arms folded over her chest and resting on her very obvious belly. "I'm serious Mabel. If things get bad again I want you to talk to someone."

I force another smile. "I will." It's a lie, and I leave Nichole behind in the room before she has enough sense to realize it.

✖️✖️✖️

I try to pay attention in my next class, I really do, but it's no use. My biology professor could be speaking in another language and I probably wouldn't notice I'm so distracted. I never do well when it comes to lectures after difficult sessions with Nichole, and usually we schedule around it, but today is her last day and she had been booked up in order to make sure she sees everyone she needs to before her leave.

With a sigh, I flip aimlessly through the pages of my textbook in an attempt to catch up with what's on the screen at the front of the lecture hall.

Hazel, my roommate, nudges me softly with a knowing smile and taps her notebook. She knows about me being in therapy and the abuse—which, unsurprisingly, had been Nichole's idea—but thankfully has never judged me or pitied me for it. Hazel brushes back her dyed blonde hair into a sleek ponytail, her attention on the professor as I quickly copy down the notes she's taken.

When the class ends she lingers by the doorway, waiting for me so we can walk back to the dorm together. She's beautiful in the way that all men like, and she knows it. Her hair is blonde, her make-up applied perfectly every morning, and she's curvy in the way that causes people to do a double-take.

Hazel is talking softly to a guy near the door, clearly annoyed with him but polite enough not to be upfront about the fact that she's not interested. Her blue eyes find mine as I make my way up the steps to them and relief washes over her.

"Sorry, but my friend's here. See you later." Hazel brushes past him to stand beside me and we step out into the hall together. "I don't know what else to do to make that guy see I'm not interested," she says to me as we walk.

I shake my head with a laugh. "Have you tried telling him flat out?"

Her eyes widen at my words and her eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling. "Of course not. I'm not a bitch."

"It doesn't make you a bitch, babe," I tell her honestly.

"That's what he'll call me though," she protests with a pout.

"And you care?"

"Of course. What if his friend is really hot?" She lets out an exaggerated sigh. "I can't be known on this campus as the frigid bitch who thinks she's too good for everybody."

"I doubt they'd think that," I reassure her, bumping lightly into her side. "It doesn't make you a bad person to have standards." Okay, I'm officially channeling Nichole now.

Hazel just grins in response to my cheesiness. "Let's go get something to eat before we head back to the dorms. I have something important to run past you at dinner."

My interest is piqued to say the least, and I follow Hazel across campus to the dining hall. As we settle down with our trays at our usual table, I'm greeted by Mia and Dominic who sit down beside us.

"Have you asked her yet?" Mia asks before taking a sip of her soda.

My brows pull together in confusion as I shoot a questioning look at Hazel. "Ask me what?"

Mia rolls her eyes and Dominic lets out a deep belly laugh.

"I was getting there," Hazel hisses back at them.

"Hazel," I murmur, bringing her attention back to me. "What are they talking about?"

"A party," Mia pipes in. "There's a house party this weekend."

"So? I know Hazel and you guys go to parties so why would that be a big deal? Unless..." I trail off and let out a groan as realization dawns on me. "You want me to go," I finish my own thought, my tone full of accusation.

Hazel lowers her gaze to the plate of pasta on her tray, her cheeks flushed.

"You know I don't do parties," I tell her, waiting for Hazel to speak up and tell me I'm wrong for assuming things. She stays quiet though, staring dejectedly down at her food as she twirls noodles around her fork. "Hazel."

She lifts her face, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What would Nichole say?" she asks innocently.

I'm surprised to hear Hazel pull the "what-would-your-therapist-want-you-to-do?" card, and I instantly become flustered. It's obvious what Nichole would say though. "You're young so be young, Mabel," she would tell me.

Mia and Dominic watch my exchange with Hazel in amusement. They don't know the entire back story of why I'm in therapy, but they do know that I meet with someone once or twice a week, and it appears as though I'm not the only one left surprised by Hazel's tactics.

After a long pause and an internal battle between myself and my version of Nichole, I give in. "Fine," I mutter. "I'll go."

Hazel grins and lifts a hand to her ear. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said I'll go," I grumble back, louder this time.

✖️✖️✖️

"You want to coordinate our Halloween costumes?" I ask Lucas in disbelief. "Like a bunch of chicks?"

Lucas rolls his eyes at me as he sheds off his hockey gear. "No, not like a bunch of chicks. It's not like we'd be going as Charlie's Angels."

"I call being Alex," Tyler chimes in from across the locker room. I shoot him a pointed look and he shrugs with a lopsided grin. "What? Lucy Lui is hot."

"Really Ty? I thought you'd at least back me up on this," I grumble, shaking my head as I toss my gear into the locker.

"Lumberjacks are perfect for Halloween," Luke continues. "And there's nothing feminine about them."

"Lumberjacks," I echo uncertainly. I have to admit, the thought spikes a sense of curiosity in me. Three large, six-foot-plus, good looking—because let's be honest here, I know we're fine ass male specimens—dressed in flannels and wielding axes instead of hockey sticks is bound to bring some very wanted attention from the opposite sex. Not that I don't already have the opportunity to hook-up with women, because trust me when I say that isn't a problem, but why not flaunt it? Halloween only comes once a year after all, and the house party we plan on attending is bound to be filled with attractive coeds in scantily clad costumes. "Alright, I'm in."

"Really?" Luke's brows pull together skeptically. "I thought I was going to have to put in a lot more effort to convince you."

I shrug nonchalantly. "It's not like I have to go out and buy shit for it. Flannel, jeans, suspenders maybe...it's not that big of a deal."

Tyler laughs behind us and throws his meaty fist into the air in triumph. "Hells yes! I'm in too."

"Put a damper on the enthusiasm, will you Ty?" I roll my eyes at my two best friends and swing a towel over my shoulder. "I'll catch you guys later, I'm gonna hit the showers. I stink."

✖️✖️✖️

When I make it home I'm utterly exhausted from a late Chem lab. Usually my Wednesday lab only runs until about eight at night, but some of my classmates had wanted the TA to go over problems that had recently been on the midterm so we didn't get out until closer to nine. Since I also had practice earlier in the day, both my body and my mind are tired.

"Kelsey is upstairs waiting for you," Lucas says from the couch, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Tyler is next to him and shakes his head with a grin.

Kelsey? I wrack through my brain, trying to match a face to the name. If I remember correctly, we had hooked up a few times earlier in the school year before hockey season had started.

"How long has she been here?" I ask as I head for the stairs.

"About a half hour," Luke calls back, both of them stifling a snicker.

Kelsey is indeed waiting when I enter my bedroom. She's sprawled out on my bed in only her underwear as she lies on her flat stomach. She stares up at me with hooded eyes as I shed off my hockey jacket and beckons me closer with one slender finger.

"You're home late," she murmurs, her full lips twisting into a pout.

I shrug, not bothering with an excuse. Kelsey and I aren't dating, and there's really no need for either of us to babble about our lives. She doesn't want to hear about my classes or how practice went, and I have no interest in the petty sorority drama I'm sure is in her life. When we see each other there's usually only one thing that we care about doing, and it certainly doesn't involve many coherent sentences. Like I said, hook-ups with women aren't exactly a hard thing to come by for me.

Kelsey wastes no time reaching for my belt as I come to stand by the bed. I pull my pants down and drop onto the mattress beside her, folding my arms behind my head.

"I'm a little tired baby so you're going to have to take care of both of us, is that okay?" When Kelsey's gaze meets mine I give her my best smile, one that shows the dimples in my cheeks, and her lips part in response. "I promise next time it'll all be about you." I'm not lying either. Sex should be fun for everyone, and I know sometimes girls take a lot more work to get off than men do.

"Sure thing," she replies, placing a kiss on my abdomen.

An hour or so later I walk Kelsey down to the front door in just a pair of sweats. She turns and stretches up on her toes, planting a chaste kiss on my lips.

"Text me later?"

I don't mention that her number is no longer in my phone and offer her a curt nod as I push the door open for her. "I'll see you later."

Tyler steps into the entryway and punches my arm on the way to the kitchen as soon as Kelsey leaves. "You're not going to text her, are you?"

I shrug, following him to the fridge where he's packing away leftover pizza. I grab a slice and wolf it down. "I have to focus on school." It's true. The idea of getting into anything more serious than a fling while I'm juggling school and hockey makes my head spin.

"It's not like she was trying to play house with you, man. She just wanted to know if you'd text her."

"I don't see you settling down," I point out with a chuckle. "Why are you so interested in whether or not I get a hold of a girl again?"

Tyler jabs me in the arm again with a stern look. "I never said I was," he grumbles back, stalking out of the room.

I shake my head even though Tyler can't see it and snatch another piece of pizza from the box in the fridge before closing the door with my hip. "I'm going to bed," I call out over my shoulder as I head for the stairs.

No response.

I plop down on my bed and my muscles automatically relax, softening so that I sink down into the mattress. Thankfully, it isn't long before my wandering thoughts turn to darkness as sleep overtakes me.

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F*ck-boy Alex makes me cringe internally, but it had to be done, but hey, we gotta start somewhere 😏😏

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