Anxious Love (Love Sick #1) Read online

  "What are you doing out here so early?"

  She reached out and opened her door a crack. A heaving, rumbling noise amplified through the open door.

  "You drilling for oil—" I asked.

  A high-pitched groan interrupted me, followed by the bulldozer sound.

  "What is that?"

  "I tried waking him up, but he is passed out," she yelled, groaned, and pulled the door closed.

  I shook my head. Crazy followed her.

  I reached out my hand. Sophie took it and stood up. I headed up to my place.

  We entered my place, and I set my backpack down on the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Sophie, wearing a tank top and shorts, pulled a blanket off the gray tweed sectional that took up most of my living room and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  When Sophie and I met, we hit it off as much as I could hit it off with someone. I didn't intend to rent out the other rooms, but my parents worried about me living alone. My safety and security weren't their primary concern, however. No, they were worried no one would find my body until it started to smell.

  "Where did you meet him?" I asked as I handed her the beignets, grabbed a bottle of water and my coffee, and followed her out on the balcony. She sat in one of the chairs next to the small glass-topped round table, and I moved the other chair around so I could look off the balcony at the city below.

  "At the club last night. I'd seen him before. He came in for the first set and stayed all night. He's cute and kind of sweet, but he's dumb."

  "What does he do?"

  "I don't know. I mean he is really dumb." She sipped her water. "Amazing in bed, though. He's got a huge..." She held her hands up, eight inches apart, and giggled. I blushed and turned to look over the balcony. Not because of her explicit description. Sophie spoke without a filter, and I was used to it. My mind returned to my confrontation that morning with Ryan.

  I should have been insulted and disgusted by his obvious attraction. At least, he had the decency to try to hide it. To his credit, his face grew red, especially the tips of his ears. I imagined they would be hot to the touch. I really wanted to touch them.

  "Hello, Leah, are you listening to me?" Sophie waved her hands.

  "Yeah, sorry." I grabbed one of the powdered sugar covered donuts and took a bite. "I did something stupid this morning," I said as a shower of powdered sugar sprayed out of my mouth.

  "What did you do?" Sophie reached for a beignet.

  "I think I inadvertently asked a guy out."

  Her arm stopped in mid-air with the beignet dangling from her fingertips. Her mouth opened.

  Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. If ever I needed someone to confirm this wasn't a big deal, it was now. Sophie's reaction confirmed my initial thought. This was huge.

  Oh, shit!

  I stood up, walked down the balcony to my bedroom, and grabbed my iPad off my nightstand. As I headed back, I peered over the balcony as the trucks lined the streets delivering the day's wares to the restaurants and shops that made up the French Quarter. The familiar smell did nothing to soothe my nerves.

  "Oh God," I said and turned back to her. "I made a huge mistake. I can't do this. I can't date. I certainly can't date him."

  "What? Now, let's not freak out here. Yes, you can. You can do this."

  I sat back down and pulled my legs to my chest as I covered them with the other end of Sophie's blanket. I laid my head on my knees—literally holding myself together.

  "Who is this guy?" Sophie asked.

  "I've seen him at Poppies for a couple of weeks but stopped going because of the crowd." Sophie nodded. "But I passed by on my way to Cafe Du Monde this morning, and he followed me."

  "He noticed you, too."

  I reached out and touched the side of my building. It decreased my anxiety, but my heart raced anyway. The way he stared at me made my body shiver. The sensation of where he touched my arm remained on my skin. "He's beautiful. His blond hair picked up the rays of the sun... his light brown eyes sparkled," I whispered.

  Was I describing one of the heroes in my stories?

  "What did you say when he stopped you?"

  "I almost dropped him actually."

  Sophie laughed.

  "You do not just grab a woman you don't know. I was about to introduce his nose to my fist."

  "You're such a badass. Jerry would be so proud."

  Jerry, my personal trainer, specialized in self-defense. As a former Navy SEAL, he’d taught me techniques to drop a man three times my size. Before this morning, I’d never had an opportunity to try, but I grinned with the knowledge I had reacted to the proposed threat without hesitation. I could have dropped the six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound NFL lineman without breaking a sweat.

  "Okay, so you agreed to what, exactly?" Sophie asked, pulling me out of my daydream.

  "He asked me to dinner, and I suggested 21st for drinks instead," I answered shaking my head.

  "Oh, that's good. On your own turf. What time?"

  "Three o'clock, tomorrow."

  "Unconventional dating hour, but that's okay. He'll think you're different." She nodded like this situation was normal.

  "I don't want to be weird. “I sat on my hands to keep from fidgeting.

  "I didn't say weird. I said different." Sophie shook her head, and I turned away. "Leah, you can do this. You go to 21st all the time, and you are comfortable in the setting. You sit down next to him for a few hours. Have a few drinks, a few laughs. All on your terms. You can do it."

  "That's fine this time, but what if I like him? What about next time?"

  "We'll figure it out when the time comes. He may turn out to be a douchebag. If that happens, you can have Mark kick him out and get on with your life."

  The problem with her theory was that he wasn't a douchebag. Cocky as hell, but kind of sweet.

  I laughed thinking about my five-foot-ten friend trying to kick Ryan Ware out his bar. The amusing image faded.

  "Or I could not show up. He'll get the hint."

  "There has to be a reason you asked him out. You're so intuitive about people and situations; you saw or felt something with this guy, so you owe it to yourself to explore it."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's part of your healing, part of your journey."

  Typically, I'd called foul on using the healing journey excuse, but she was right. "You sound like my therapist."

  "But cheaper, I imagine." She smiled. "God, you've come so far since we met. I'm blown away with how you've lived your life knowing all you've dealt with." Sophie beamed.

  I rolled my eyes.

  "You deserve this. It's going to work out. I can feel it."

  I smiled but didn't believe her. I wanted to believe it. I wanted her faith.

  A knock vibrated through the floor. I grabbed the side of my chair.

  "Sophie, you up there?" A gruff male voice asked.

  Sophie shook her head. I groaned, stood up, and leaned over the balcony.

  "Hey," I said to the behemoth of a man below. I tried not to stare as he stood on the balcony with morning wood and no shame.

  "Hey, you seen Sophie?"

  I glared back at my friend.

  "He's naked," I mouthed to her. She held up her hands, and I laughed and leaned back over.

  "No, I haven't seen her."

  He frowned and leaned over the balcony as if he might catch her escaping. He scratched his junk and turned his attention back to me. "Hey, you're cute. What's your name?"

  "911. Call me."

  "Ugh. Why are women so difficult?" He scratched himself again and stared off into the distance.

  I shook my head. "I'll tell Sophie you said good-bye."

  "Yeah, okay. Tell her to give me a call."

  "Sure thing." He walked back inside, and Sophie rolled her eyes. I stifled a giggle.

  What's happening to my life?

  I woke up this morning, ready to work through my to-do list: take a walk,
have breakfast, return home, write, watch a movie, go to bed. Tomorrow, do it all over. It was my life—regimented, routine, and predictable, just how I liked it. It was my normal.

  So why did I feel the need to turn it upside down?

  I woke up tired and groggy from tossing and turning all night.

  My brain played tricks on me in a weird half-dream, half-awake state as it played out every scenario and every outcome relating to me dating Ryan Ware. Some of them good.

  Some really good.

  Most of them bad—tragic and sad.

  I pushed the covers off and sat up, reminding myself today was the same as any other day. I wouldn't expose myself to any more people in one space, place, and time than any other day. Having my friends around would help and being in a familiar setting, too.

  My rational mind told me this was the case, but my heart and body tingled with the knowledge we were entering uncharted territory.

  It was strange; I could talk to people on the phone. I could video chat, but face-to-face, in the same room, in my personal space, I couldn't handle it. I had money and a desired to prove to myself that I could do it. I went about finding my new life and found it in New Orleans.

  I learned to live—if you want to call it living. I learned how to cope with situations as they came. If a situation came along I couldn't handle, I locked myself away until the anxiety lessened. It never went away.

  As long as I had other means to communicate with the outside world that left them outside, I thrived in my isolated world.

  Hence, my apprehension in dating Ryan Ware.

  None of my coping mechanisms had prepared me to date a person who lived his life as the center of attention.

  The plan was to keep the day as normal as possible.

  I exhaled, stretched, and started my day.

  I stepped out of my bedroom and surveyed my surroundings; it didn't offer its usual comfort. In fact, my mind was spiraling out of control, but not in its usual panic-inducing manner. It seemed strategic and deliberate, as if my mind knew this situation was different. So different, it had me diving for my cell phone on the charger and dialing my therapist's number.

  "Dr. Brady's office. This is—,"

  "Jane. Is Dr. Brady in?" I didn't let her finish her sentence.

  "Hello, Leah. He just finished up with a patient, let me connect you." My throat throbbed, and sweat poured off my skin. I sat down, my back to the island that separated my kitchen from the living room. It provided protection inside my shelter. What did I need protection from? My demons, my anxiety, my stupid new sense of adventure. I bit my lip and waited for him to answer.

  "Ms. Leah. How are you doing—?"

  "I need you to tell me going on a date with a guy is a bad idea for someone with my condition."

  The phone was silent for a few seconds.

  "You need a doctor's excuse to get out of a date?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said as I contemplated where all the oxygen in my apartment had gone. My shelter no longer offered comfort. I pulled myself up and lunged for the balcony. As I swung open the doors, I gasped in a lung-full of air.

  "Leah. Calm down. Breathe."

  I heard a door close through the phone. I spun around. No one was there. Perfect, add paranoid to my list of symptoms.

  "Leah. Say something."

  I'm okay, I said, but no words came out of my mouth.

  "Leah," Dr. Brady yelled.

  "I'm here," I said and giggled in relief at the sound of my voice. It didn't sound as bad as I thought it would.

  "Where are you?"

  "At home."

  "Well, sit down someplace soft and comfortable."

  I exhaled and headed toward the tiny sitting area in the corner of my balcony. When the weather was nice, I sat out there and worked. I lowered myself onto the green and white striped cushion, drew my knees to my chest, and concentrated on my breathing.

  "Okay." My voice was soft and child-like.

  "So you have a date?"

  My breathing became shallow but not too bad. "Yes," I said.

  "Breathe."

  I inhaled and exhaled.

  "Good."

  I heard Dr. Brady inhale and exhale, and I followed.

  "You’re fine, Leah. You are going to be fine. You can do this."

  "No." Exhale. "I can't." Inhale.

  "We knew this would happen eventually. You are prepared for it. Just remember your affirmations and your breathing."

  "I can't go on a date and hold a conversation with a guy between cleansing breaths. He's going to think I'm a lunatic."

  Dr. Brady chuckled, and I joined him.

  "Why do I do this to myself?"

  "What, continue to grow and push yourself to experience new and exciting things?" He sighed. "You're human, and you're normal. You have your meds under control. Your anxiety is under control. You treat this like any other outing in your life. You plan, you create contingencies, and you give it a try. Don't apologize or make excuses for your disorder, find a way to live with it."

  I could picture Dr. Brady in his polo and khakis sitting on the edge of his desk, pointing as he spoke and rubbing his bald head. The thought calmed my nerves.

  "Okay, I'll go, but if I need an emergency session—"

  "I'll keep my office unlocked all night just in case."

  The speech helped.

  I worked, did some yoga, and employed a hot shower and some tea. Anything I could think of to calm my brain.

  A few hours later, I stepped out of my place. A rare breeze blew through the Quarter, but it carried the heat. I looked to my left. A steady stream of people crossed on Decatur. I took a right. During the nine-block walk to 21st Amendment Bar, I chanted to myself, I can do this, I can do this.

  As soon as I walked in and spotted Sophie, Allie, and Mark huddled in the corner conspiring, I wanted to ditch the plan and run home.

  "OMG, he is so hot," Allie said as she stared at her phone.

  "He is, right?" Sophie asked. "She said he was like huge, like six-foot-five or something."

  "I don't know about this, guys. I mean is she ready for this?" Mark asked.

  "Ready for what?" I yelled as I stepped up into the bar.

  They all snapped around and faced me, shoulder to shoulder. Allie dropped her phone, and they all held the same wide-eyed guilty expression.

  Mark approached me as if any sudden moves would send me scurrying off. I had gotten used to Mark being in my space. His trepidation made my heart race because he wasn't wrong.

  "Stop," I said in a high-pitched octave.

  He froze, blinked his eyes, and peered over his shoulder at Sophie and Allie.

  "Sophie told us about your new... friend," Allie said. "I looked him up. He seems nice." Allie spoke in the voice she used with her parents. The sweet, soft, slow cadence got her out of trouble. It fit her pixie brown hair and short stature.

  "Uh-huh, let me see."

  Her hands shook as she picked up the phone and walked past Mark. I refrained from running out the bar screaming.

  She handed me the phone. My throat hitched as I stared down at the close-up of Ryan on a magazine cover. The grin plastered on his face warmed my insides. I zoomed out, but the photo cropped at his chest. I shut her phone off and handed it back to her.

  "Okay, everyone, listen."

  Allie took a seat at one of several little round tables.

  Sophie remained standing while Mark pulled out a barstool and jumped on it.

  A chill ran up my spine. I held in a groan as I studied my three friends. The date hadn't started yet, and everything was different.

  I exhaled and grabbed onto the bar.

  "You guys need to stop. You're freaking me out."

  Sophie nodded.

  "Sure, no problem," Mark said.

  I turned my attention to Allie. Her eyes blinked in rapid succession.

  The knock on the door thumped in my heart as I spun around and found Ryan standing outside. The grin he flashed mad
e my insides flip. With him in front of me, I had no way to escape.

  He had to turn to the side to make it through the narrow doorway.

  "Hey, Leah." He waved. His tan, muscular forearms peeked out of the rolled-up sleeves of his light blue button-down shirt. He wore it open. The white T-shirt underneath stretched across his broad chest.

  I waved back as I peeked behind me to check on my crew. I was too late; they had scattered.

  Sophie had grabbed a book off one of the shelves in the back before taking a seat at the far end of the green vinyl bench that ran the length of the far wall. She rested her arm on one of the four square tables and pretended to read.

  Mark adjusted a few chairs as he walked down the main aisle of the bar. He wiped down the same clean tables twice before retreating behind the weathered mahogany bar that ran the length of the establishment.

  Allie stuck in the vicinity of Ryan and me. She flashed me a quick smile and stared at the ground as she took a seat at one of the roundtables and studied something on her phone.

  I turned back to Ryan and hoped my awkward smile wasn't obvious. "You found the place okay?"

  "Yeah, you know, GPS and all," he said and waved his phone.

  I nodded. "You want to have a seat. Bar or table?" I asked.

  "You choose."

  By this time, Allie had stood up and adjusted the chairs as she walked down the middle of the bar toward my favorite seat on the back wall. It offered me a great escape route through the lobby of the adjacent hotel if I ever got trapped.

  The only other acceptable seat was at the bar near the doors that opened onto the street. I headed in that direction, feeling the warmth of Ryan's body as he followed.

  We sat at a right angle from each other at the corner of the bar. It offered a far more intimate position than I had intended. I leaned back and rested on the solid brick wall. I surveyed the place. From my perch, I saw the front door, the back of the bar, and my peripheral vision was solid.

  Relieved, I returned my gaze to Ryan. I felt relaxed and wasn't sure if it was from being in a familiar place or from being in his presence.

  I grinned and stared into his eyes. He stared back, licked his lips, and smiled. His strong jaw twitched as he tried to control his facial expressions, but when I licked my lips, his lips parted and . . .