Ask Me Something (The Something Series Book 2) (5 page)

“He does and
part of me has always wanted to, but then I overthink it and start worrying
about what might happen.”

As she often did
to ensure I didn’t get stuck, she changed subjects. “How is the anxiety at
work? You mentioned the last time you were here that dealing directly with
clients wasn’t easy.”

“It’s coming
along. There are a lot of happy hours and wining and dining which are all
outside my normal comfort level, but I’m working through the challenges. Wine
helps.”

I had thought I
was being funny but saw her eyes narrow. “Sasha, you pushing your limits is
good. But I caution you not to bulldoze into things because you feel like you
have to prove something to yourself or, worse, to anyone else. We’ve talked
about this previously, and I’ve been very pleased with your progress. But
remember to respect your disorder at all times. It’s part of your life, and if
you start believing that you no longer have it, then you risk having a panic
attack when you least expect it. You need to be mindful of your triggers.”

I took a deep
breath. It had been at least a year since I’d had an attack, but one never
forgot the feeling. And she wasn’t wrong about my need to push myself. I was a
glutton for punishment when it came to refusing to accept the control anxiety
could have over me. As a result, though, I sometimes made things worse for
myself by forcing issues before I was ready to deal with them.

“It’s getting
better, and I’ve learned to control it faster.”

“I have no doubt
you’re controlling it faster. Look at your position and what you do for a
living. But is your level of anxiety honestly getting better? Because I would
venture as you’ve progressed in your career, it would naturally get higher.”

“I think anyone
in my situation would have high levels of anxiety about proving themselves.”

She nodded and
then changed the subject on me again. “I don’t disagree. I like the fact that
in thinking about Brian you were distracted enough not to have your usual
discomfort in coming home. But talk to me about why you’re hesitant to start something
with him.”

I went with the
most obvious reason yet again. “My career is really important to me. I’ve
worked my ass off the last seven years to become the first female vice
president at Gamble Advertising. But with that, I’m under a microscope. It may
be part of my anxiety, but I can feel people wanting me to fail.”

“Oh, I’m sure
it’s true, for anyone in your position. People will be jealous or sexist or
have whatever other reason for not wanting you to succeed. But do you feel like
you deserved that promotion?”

Self-doubt was
also a huge part of my disorder. “I do, most of the time. My biggest worry is
that if someone were to find out about me sleeping with him, then they’d think
that was why I got promoted. That it would invalidate all of my hard work.”

“So take me through
that scenario. Say Brian makes you happy and you two get serious, maybe fall in
love. Would there ever be a point where you would feel comfortable with other
people knowing?”

“I don’t see
that happening.”

“Why not?”

Because Brian
was attracted to a woman who was self-assured and put-together. Not one who had
to snap a hair band to keep from freaking out in social situations. I expelled
an unsteady breath. “He may know more about me than most, and I may feel
comfortable with him, but if he were to truly get to know me, he’d be
disappointed.”

She put down her
pen and studied me. “And there we come to the biggest fear you have, Sasha. I
agree that your career is a valid concern. Anyone in your position would most
likely feel the same, but the real reason for your hesitation is what you just
stated. You don’t feel like he’ll accept you without the armor or that he could
possibly love the real you. You’ve done a remarkable job in conquering your
self-doubt with regard to your career, but you’ve hardly addressed it in your
romantic life. I’d venture to say that you pick your career over love because
there’s security in knowing you’ve been successful in it.”

“I hate it when
you trick me,” I muttered.

She grinned.
“It’s not as if you didn’t realize that already. You simply didn’t want to
admit it. If you choose to embark on this relationship, I would strongly
suggest you share more with him regarding your triggers and history Sasha. It
would be helpful for the both of you, I think.”

I wasn’t so
sure. “Do you think it’s possible to have a successful relationship with an
anxiety disorder?”

She smiled
kindly. “Of course I do. I see it all of the time. I could call around and find
someone in New York if you’d like to talk with someone more regularly. It may
help.”

“I’ll let you
know if I need that. Thanks for your time and Merry Christmas.”

***

After my
appointment, I drove down to the beach only a few blocks from my parents’ house,
found my spot, and sat down to breathe in the smell of the salt water. The
weather was chilly, in the forties, but the crisp, clean air felt good.
Beaufort was a small coastal town, outside of the outer banks of North
Carolina. Some people referred to it as the other Beaufort, since most people
thought of South Carolina when they heard the city name. During the summer it
had its share of tourists, either passing through or opting for a quiet beach
vacation. But during the winter, it was all local residents. This was the time
of year I liked the most as there was nothing like a deserted beach for
soul-searching.

Pulling out my
phone, I texted Brian.
“What are you doing?”

“Calling you,”
he replied.

I smiled when
the phone rang immediately and answered, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.
What are you doing?”

“Sitting on an
empty beach. I have about an hour before I need to get back to the house and go
to church with the family.”

“I hope you’re
not sitting there regretting that kiss last night.”

Considering it
was quite the opposite, I eased his mind. “Oh, I’m thinking about the kiss, all
right, but not with regret.”

“It’s all I’ve
thought about the entire day.”

His voice was
doing that husky thing that made my stomach flutter. “Then why didn’t you stay
last night?”

“I told you, we
need to set rules.”

“Okay, how many
are there?”

“There are a
few, and you would have the option to choose your own so long as they don’t
directly conflict with mine, of course. We can make them up as we go, revise if
needed.”

“And no one
outside of us would know about this, um, arrangement?”

“I think it
would be best, both professionally and personally, that we keep it between the
two of us. Neither of us need the extra pressure.”

“So you wouldn’t
tell Josh?”

“No, as long as
it didn’t affect our professional relationship.”

I let out a long
breath.

“You’re
overthinking this, Sasha.”

“Hi, have we
met? Of course I am.”

He chuckled.
“Even more reason to have an aspect of your life where you don’t.”

“Hmm, maybe. You
indicated this is more than one night. Okay, good, I don’t do one-night stands
either, but what kind of time frame are we talking?”

“Do we need to define
one?”

“Neither one of
us are exactly known for long-term relationships.”

“Then putting a
time frame around it isn’t going to make a hell of a lot of difference, is it?”

“True. Okay,
what are the rules?”

“I’m not trying
to sound like a broken record, but I want you to be certain this is something
you want first.”

“Don’t I have to
know your terms before I can decide that?”

He was quiet and
then answered. “Yes, I suppose.”

“I’m not signing
a document with the rules, right?”

“No. Not at all.
We’re both smart and capable adults, and we’ve known one another too long to
start talking contracts.”

“Okay. Tell me the
first one.”

“Rule number one
is that if we are angry with each other, we fuck before we fight.”

I couldn’t help
my intake of breath.

“Are you there?”
he asked.

“I’m processing.”

“You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared
of anything.” That wasn’t true, but I definitely wasn’t letting him know it.
“For your information, the last thing a woman wants to do when she’s pissed off
with a man is to have sex with him.”

“That’s because
you associate it with making love. A woman doesn’t want to show love and
affection when she’s mad. This is angry sex, honey. Imagine putting all that
irritation and frustration into a sexual act. I promise an orgasm will do more
for your body than an argument ever could.”

“You’ve had a
lot of angry sex, I take it?”

“There’s no
other woman who pushes my buttons the way you do, so the answer would be no,
but I’m kind of looking forward to it.”

I swallowed
hard. “Okay, what’s next?” My voice betrayed that I was not yet recovered from
rule number one.

“That’s it for
today. Why don’t you think about it, and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

“You’re teasing
me with only one? I want to know all of them.”

“I think you
need to learn some patience. We have plenty of time to talk about them over the
next few days.”

“You’re kind of annoying
me with the whole patience thing.”

“Come on, you
didn’t honestly believe we’d go a day without irritating one another somehow,
did you?”

“I foresee a lot
of rule number one being evoked.” I had the pleasure of hearing his intake of
breath and saying good bye on that note.

The next day on
Christmas morning, I slept in which is something I rarely did anymore. The
smell of cinnamon rolls baking came from downstairs. It was heavenly, but also convinced
me to get up and go running. I loathed exercise, but I hated gaining weight more.
I was naturally curvy with a larger butt and hips than I would have liked, but
I’d made peace with my curves years ago and had learned to dress to flatter
them. They might not be my favorite assets, but considering I’d been blessed
with full lips and good skin—well, no one could have it all. I did a leisurely
four-mile run and was greeted by my mother at the back door.

“Sasha Jayne,
it’s cold outside. Go on up and take a nice hot shower. I have cinnamon rolls.
And Merry Christmas darlin’.”

I didn’t bother
to point out the rolls were the very reason I’d gone running but gave her a
quick kiss on the cheek instead. “Merry Christmas, Mama. I’ll be down in a
bit.” Somehow I doubted I’d ever outgrow my mother fussing over me.

Upstairs and
logging into my laptop, I perused my work email quickly and was thankful that
all of my clients were also enjoying the holidays. Taking some more time on the
Internet, I started searching terms like “dominant sex” and “submissive roles.”
Slightly sick to my stomach, I ended my google search. The rules Brian had
mentioned suddenly became a lot more important to learn more about. He’d said
he didn’t want to overwhelm me, which made me wonder what else he had in mind.
Clearly, we needed to have to have a serious talk about what I would and would
not do.

I dressed
casually in jeans, a sweater, and my Ugg boots and made my way downstairs. “All
right, Mama, what can I help with?”

She put me to
work setting the table which was something that had been ingrained since I was
young. If ever I needed to showcase a talent, setting a proper table would be
mine.

***

I enjoyed the
peace and quiet, hanging with my parents until two o’clock when all hell broke
loose in the form of three kids and one baby girl. The kids ran around while
the baby was thrust on me like I had to hold my niece in order to prove my love
for her. Babies made me nervous. I did much better with my older nieces and
nephews who weren’t so breakable. My sister, Addison, ignored any look of
discomfort I exhibited and went about her business.

My little sister
looked like my mother with her fair skin and blonde hair, but she had our
father’s striking blue eyes. She’d been the baby that my parents had always
wanted and hadn’t been able to conceive during the first eight years of their
marriage. I’d long ago accepted after years of therapy that my parents loved me
the same as they did their biological daughter.

“So tomorrow
night, Sasha, we’re heading to Ernie’s Oyster Bar, and Eric Peterson said he
might stop by. You know he and Tami got divorced a couple of years ago. And
Leslie Hanson says he looks handsome, still has his hair and everything, which
is saying a lot for a man your age.” Addison announced out of the blue.

Ah, it wouldn’t
be a night at home without my baby sister rubbing in the fact that she was four
years younger and also trying to set me up with someone while I was in town.
Tonight’s lucky winner was my former high school boyfriend. “Yes, having hair
is definitely at the top of the list when it comes to qualities in a man.”

Her husband,
Ryan, chuckled at my sarcasm. He and Addison had met their freshman year of
college and had been together ever since. It was the modern day
cheerleader-meets-quarterback love story. He managed his father’s profitable
real estate business, and my sister was a stay-at-home mom with the four
children. The thing I liked most about my brother-in-law was that he might love
my sister, but he also didn’t put up with her crap and would call her out when
necessary.

“Eric also
manages a car dealership in Raleigh, and he’s only got the one son,” Addison added.

“And therein
lies the trifecta: hair, job, and only one kid. Look, Addison, I’m not
interested.”

“Excuse me if I
only want to see you happy with someone.”

Seriously? She
thought being with someone automatically meant happiness. I sighed, gladly
getting up to help my mom with the dishes and avoid any more talk of being set
up.

We finished in
the kitchen and set about opening gifts. I knew my parents would be hesitant
about the one I’d gotten them, but considering they’d yet to visit me in New
York, I was hoping to persuade them to accept it.

“Oh, Sasha,
hotel and a show and airline tickets. It’s too much,” my mom admonished.

I shrugged. “I
used points for the hotel and airfare, and I want you to see where I’m living.
Pick a weekend, and I’ll get the show tickets and tour you around.”

My dad looked
uncertain, and then Addison jumped in. “The kids have a lot of sports and
activities on the weekends. It’s going to be tough for them to get away.”

I swallowed hard
and took another sip of my wine. “Even more reason to take a few days for
themselves for a change, isn’t it?” Yes, I was aware that my parents were
heavily involved in my sister’s life and spent a lot of time babysitting and attending
their grandkids’ events on a daily basis. But did I need to have kids in order
for them to want to be a part of my life?

My mom chose to
ignore our passive-aggressive sniping. “Well, we will look at dates and let you
know. I’ve always wanted to see the Big Apple. Your father went years ago for
some kind of training for work, but I’ve never been. And we want to see where
you’re living.”

I smiled,
appreciating the fact that they’d make the effort.

My sister’s
usual gift included this year’s family picture of all of them dressed alike and
looking perfect.

My five-year-old
niece squealed at her princess dress-up set. I got some satisfaction as an aunt
who’d selected the best gift when she insisted on putting on the dresses,
shoes, and tiaras before continuing on with opening up her other presents.

“Did you not get
the wish list of learning toys this year?” Addison inquired.

“I did. I simply
chose not to be boring and instead get something I knew she’d want. Who’d like
more wine?”

***

By the time I
fell into bed, I was halfway buzzed and way too wound up to sleep. Grabbing my
phone, I looked at the time. Only ten o’clock.

I texted Brian,
suddenly anxious to hear his voice.

“
Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“Are you free to
talk?”

“For you,
anytime.”

My phone rang
two seconds later, and I answered on the first ring. “Hi,” I said, a little out
of breath.

“Hi, back. How
was your Christmas Day?”

I filled him in
on the details, and he offered up some of his. Then there was an awkward
silence.

“I’d like to
know rule number two,” I pressed.

“Are we agreed
on the first one?”

“I think so, but
I have questions.”

“Ask me then,
honey.”

That term of endearment
had my heart beating faster. “Are we monogamous?”

He chuckled, and
I could hear him shifting the phone. “Very much so. I don’t share, and I would
hope you wouldn’t want to, either.”

I definitely
wasn’t into sharing, especially since the image of Jamie’s hand on his thigh remained
fresh in my mind. “Brian, we bicker all the time as it is. You’re not worried
this change in relationship will add more tension?”

“I think it may
help with it and that brings us back to rule number one when we do fight.”

“How many women
have you done this with?”

“That brings us
to rule two: you don’t ask about my past, and I won’t ask about yours.”

“Considering my
history isn’t as colorful, that’s hardly fair.”

“All right, see
this is where the negotiation is important. What if I give you five questions
to ask?”

“I want
unlimited questions.”

“That’s hardly a
compromise.”

“Compromise
isn’t something I do very well and neither is capping off my curious nature.”

“There are some
questions I won’t answer, Sasha.”

“Good, I feel
the same.” Not that he’d ever ask about my anxiety, but it was a relief to know
that we could both have some things in reserve.

“What do we do
then?”

“Maybe we could
preface if we’re going to ask something sensitive. Almost like testing the waters.
We’ll say we have a question and allow the other person to decide if the
subject is something they’ll answer or not.”

“So we’d have to
agree to have the question asked?”

“Sure. We could
even set a threshold. You get however many questions on a topic, and then I do.
Whatever works, I guess.”

“I’m okay with
that, but all responses need to be truthful. I’d rather you not answer than to
lie to me, Sasha.”

“I would never
be anything other than honest.”

“Oh, you mean
like you were honest about the number of guys who wanted your number for speed
dating? What was the deal with that, anyhow?”

Of course he’d
picked up on that. “I’d gotten the same number as Catherine, and for the life
of me don’t know why. I hated every minute of it and couldn’t get out of there
fast enough.”

Brian laughed.
“Speed dating not so much?”

“No, not so
much.”

“Are you
comfortable so far with the rules?”

The first two
sounded reasonable enough and he’d already compromised. “I think so. Did you
have them with Jamie?” I had to ask.

“What happened
to prepping me with asking if I’m willing to answer this question?”

“I haven’t
agreed to anything yet.”

“Why is this
thing with Jamie bothering you? I came over to your place instead of going home
with a sure thing.”

The way he phrased
that instantly pissed me off. “Right, sorry to have ruined your evening,
Brian.”

“That’s not what
I meant. I’m only pointing out that you shouldn’t be jealous because I chose
you, even knowing it would be much more complicated.”

“Wow, you definitely
know how to make a girl feel special. You know what? If you wanted easy,
evidently you picked the wrong girl.”

“This is coming
out all wrong. Shit, I’ve gotta go. Colby is waiting on me. We’re heading out.”

“Out where?
Everything is closed on Christmas Day.”

“Uh, well, not
everything.”

It dawned on me.
They were heading to a strip club. “Of course. Perhaps you’ll find something
less complicated there.”

He muttered a
curse. “I’m tempted to say, ‘maybe I will’ because you’re seriously pissing me
off to imply that I’d want to.”

My stomach
knotted with the thought. “Maybe I’m tempted to say that I’m interested when my
sister sets me up with my ex-boyfriend tomorrow night.”

“Good thing
neither of us are
interested
in doing that sort of thing.” His annoyance
was obvious in his tone.

“Right. Good thing.
Night Brian.”

“Night Sasha.”

And now I was
back to feeling all out of sorts again, thinking about Brian heading out on the
town with Josh’s younger brother, who was known for his wild nights.

***

The next evening
I decided to go to Ernie’s Oyster Bar with my sister because I was bored, and
Ernie’s did have the best oysters in town. Plus there was the fact that I’d yet
to hear from Brian today. My sister tended to get less bitchy when she had a
cocktail in her hand and no baby at her boob, but unfortunately I found out
shortly after arriving that she didn’t mix the two.

“I’m
breastfeeding, and although some women think it’s okay to pump and dump, I
don’t,” she proclaimed self-righteously.

“Don’t you
worry, I’ll drink for you,” Ryan toasted.

My
brother-in-law and I clinked glasses, which pissed her off even further. We
continued to trade barbs until Eric came in the door.

Addison had been
accurate; he did still have his hair, and he’d aged well. He came over with a
smile.

Being accustomed
to a man kissing me on the cheek; I was a little taken aback at being hugged
like a rag doll.

“Hey, Sasha.”

“Hey, Eric,” I
said, smiling.

He pulled up a
seat. “You look great. So I know you’re in New York, what do you do there?”

“I’m the vice
president of the Gamble Advertising office.”

“Wow that sounds
important.”

Addison
interrupted before I could respond. “Sasha only thinks it is. I keep telling
her there is more to life than a title and paycheck.”

I rolled my
eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s extra cranky because she can’t drink.”