Falling for Harry Styles

I anxiously twiddled my thumbs as I sat in a padded chair in the waiting room of a therapy office. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the clicking of the keyboard at the receptionist’s desk. I looked around at the faces, or rather the tops of heads, that looked much like the position I had been in for the past forty-five minutes. It took me about twenty minutes to work up the courage to actually go up to the receptionist desk once I got here. I don’t know why I’m afraid of this, it’s supposed to help.
“Natalie Hollandsworth?” I hesitated before I stood and followed the receptionist back to some offices. “Right through here; make yourself at home and Doctor Braize will be with you shortly.”
I nodded and stepped into the room, hearing the loud click of the door shutting behind me. I peered around the spacious room spotting an oversized couch with a sleek comfortable chair across from it and a table in between. I made my way to the couch and continued my inspection of the room. The small table in front of me contained a book, a box of tissues, and a small timer. There was a wall of floor to ceiling windows overlooking London with a big desk in front of it and an oversized spinning desk chair facing the room. The desk was littered with trinkets and paperwork. On each side wall there were big book shelves filled with books and statuettes. The last wall had motivational framed pictures arranged around the door, which was now opening. I whipped my head back around to my lap as he walked to the chair across from me.
“Hello Miss Hollandsworth. I’m Doctor Philip Braize, but you can call me Braize.” His higher pitched voice was soft and gentle with a sweetness to it that I wasn’t expecting.
I looked up and smiled as he sat down. I was expecting to see a middle aged man with greying hair and a bushy mustache with thick rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Instead I saw an attractive man in his late twenties with a neatly trimmed mustache and deep brown eyes.
“Wow!” I blurted out, “Aren’t you a little young to be a therapist?” His face contorted into an expression of bemusement and I gave an embarrassed little chuckle before looking down at my lap again. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit insensitive lately.”
“No, no it’s quite alright. I actually graduated college at the age of sixteen and had my PhD by the age of twenty-five.”
“Wow, that’s impressive.”
“Thank you, but we aren’t here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about you Miss Hollandsworth.”
That was the first time I noticed the notepad in his lap and the pen in his hand. I swallowed hard, “Natalie. You… can call me Natalie.”
“Very well Natalie. Why don’t we start with why you’re here?”
“Well um…” I hesitated twiddling my thumbs looking for the right words. “I kind of have a problem.”
“Okay that’s a good start. Can you elaborate on that a little bit?”
“A drinking problem.”
He shook his head, “Alright, good. How bad is this problem?”
“Um... The first time I got drunk was a month ago and of that month I’ve been sober for, probably, about three days, in total.”
His eyes widened slightly, “Okay. And what was the reason for you drinking?”
“Um… I’m in pain,” I simplified as I felt tears starting.
He nodded, “What kind of pain?” I squinted at him a little bit not understanding the question. “Where is this pain?”
“My chest.”
“Your heart?” I stayed silent and still as my tears started brimming. “Is this pain emotional or physical?”
“It feels physical.”
“What is the cause of this pain?” I sniffed and took a deep breath sighing it out. “It’s okay to cry here Natalie. This is a safe place to let your emotions out.”
“Honestly Doc, I’m tired of crying. Although I’m tired of hurting too but that doesn’t seem to be going away.”
“How long have you been feeling this pain?”
“A month.”
A look of realization crossed his face and he made a note. “So it sounds like the drinking and the pain you have been feeling correlate, don’t they?”
I nodded, “Yeah the pain is what made me get drunk that night.”
“That night? Which night what happened?”
I hesitated unwilling to answer the question that induced so much pain and was saved by the bell as the timer went off. “Ah,” he looked disappointed, “Well, unfortunately that is all the time we have for today. But I hope that next week you will allow me to dig a little deeper into the night that caused you so much pain,” he spoke with care.
I nodded highly doubting it on the inside as he showed me to the door. I thanked him and made my way to my car feeling worse than before the session. In all honesty I wanted a drink. But then the image of the bruise I left on Harry passed through my mind and it sickened me to even the thought of being drunk again. I made my way home and walked inside, dropping my things in the foyer and making my way towards the sound of the TV on in the lounge.
“Hey Nat. How was therapy?” Harry asked from his position on the couch. I just sulked my way to him and sat leaning into him and slinging my arms around his middle. I sniffed as he rested his arm around my shoulders, sighing and placing a kiss on my head. “I hope you feel better next time around.”

Notes