Lead Me Not

chapter eleven

aubrey

i felt like a kid who had gotten caught by the principal smoking in the bathroom. Dr. Lowell had called me yesterday and asked me to come to her office after classes. I knew what this was about. Kristie had warned me she would be calling my adviser. But in the wake of my strange run-in with Maxx and the insanity of my course load, I had somehow forgotten about how badly I had messed up in support group.

Repression was a glorious thing.

Well, it was time to pay the piper. Face the music. Eat my goddamned words.

“Aubrey, come on in,” Dr. Lowell said from the doorway to her office. I picked up my bag and followed her inside. I took a seat in front of her massive desk after she closed the door.

“You know why you’re here,” Dr. Lowell said without preamble, getting straight to the point. I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry.

“Would you care to explain what happened last week in support group?” my professor asked, sitting down at her desk and folding her hands in front of her. Dr. Lowell was an attractive woman, one of those people who were aging gracefully. Her brown hair, which was only now starting to gray, was cut short and held back with a clip, and her face was wrinkle-free.

And I appreciated that instead of jumping to conclusions, she was looking at me thoughtfully, expecting a good explanation.

“I messed up, Dr. Lowell. I ended up sharing things I shouldn’t have in group. I got angry. These people are there to learn ways to change their lives, and they act as if they couldn’t be bothered. I guess I was sick of it. But what I did was wrong, and I understand if you think I need to leave the group,” I said quietly, ready to take my licks.

Dr. Lowell regarded me intently. She didn’t say anything for a long time; the only sound in the silent office was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

She slowly pushed her chair out from behind her desk and got to her feet. She crossed the room and filled her coffee cup from the fancy Keurig she had in the corner.

Why wasn’t she saying anything?

Maybe Dr. Lowell was a secret sadist and enjoyed watching her poor, panic-stricken students squirm.

“Would you like a cup, Aubrey?” she asked, holding one out.

I nodded, never able to say no to coffee. I took a sip of the gourmet blend, refusing to allow myself to appreciate the taste when I was most likely going to be seriously reprimanded. But damn, this stuff was tasty.

“I don’t want you to leave the group,” Dr. Lowell said finally, after I had polished off half of my coffee.

I blinked in surprise. “Really? Because when I spoke to Kristie she seemed to think my presence in the group wouldn’t be appropriate anymore,” I said.

Dr. Lowell rolled her eyes. Yes, my hard-as-nails professor actually rolled her eyes.

“Kristie is an excellent counselor, but she can be a little rigid sometimes. We’re all human, Aubrey. Part of this process is for you to learn your boundaries, to understand the limits in a group dynamic. You will only ever learn those things with hands-on experience. I would be doing you an extreme disservice if I were to remove you from the group. We all make mistakes. That’s not to say you didn’t act inappropriately. Because you did.” She looked at me levelly. “I just don’t think you need to be raked over the coals for it.”

Dr. Lowell returned to her seat behind her desk. “When I was first out of grad school I had just gotten my license, and I was running a court-mandated anger-management group. All of those attending were known abusers; they had all been convicted of assault, usually on family members. They were a nasty bunch of men. And they treated me like I was a joke. To say I didn’t take that too well, particularly since I was a lot more hotheaded in my younger days, is a bit of an understatement.” She laughed, and I found myself smiling too.

I just may escape this meeting in one piece. Hallelujah!

“I dumped a glass of water on a group member’s head. He apparently hadn’t liked what I had to say and had called me the B word.” I gaped. I would have done a hell of a lot more than dump water on his head.

“To say my superior was unforgiving was putting it mildly. You have to remember, times were different then, and women were only just starting to be accepted in the workplace. This was the seventies, and while advances had been made in gender equality, it still felt like the stone ages. I was put on professional probation for three months, and I wasn’t allowed to facilitate another group until I attended my own anger-management classes.”

Dr. Lowell chuckled. “So you see, you’re not the only one who has ever had to learn to control her emotions and remember to act professionally.”

Dr. Lowell sobered. “Now, we both knew going into this that it would be difficult. It’s hard under typical circumstances, but given your personal experiences I knew it would be doubly so. Would it be helpful if you and I were to meet weekly to process how group is going and to assess your participation?” she asked me.

I tried not to be offended. My behavior was what landed me here. But I couldn’t help but be insulted. It felt as though she were telling me I was too cracked to be able to function.

“No, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I responded stiffly, forcing a smile.

Dr. Lowell nodded. “Well, if at any time you’re having trouble, please don’t hesitate to come and see me. You know my door is always open. Now, let’s talk about where we go from here. Kristie was far from happy when we spoke. And I can’t afford to have her questioning this department. The community-services board works closely with the university to assist with the training and volunteer hours for our students. She’s going to expect some action to be taken.” Dr. Lowell rolled her eyes again, and this time I had to laugh.

Her opinions regarding Kristie Hinkle were pretty clear.

“So I think for the next few weeks, dial it back a bit. Contribute, but don’t take over unless she asks you to. I’ll explain to Kristie that you and I have talked, and I will have her compile weekly progress notes. I have no doubt that if there are any further issues, you’ll hear about it. So will I,” Dr. Lowell finished drolly.

“I’m sure,” I agreed.

“Okay, then, I think we’re finished here. Enjoy the rest of your day,” Dr. Lowell said, already turning back to her grading.

I picked up my book bag and slung it over my shoulder, relieved that the meeting was over and I hadn’t lost a limb or two. Only my dignity had been dinged.

I had the rest of the day to finish up my research paper for Social Psychology. I headed toward Longwood University’s rather impressive library, my steps lighter than they had been when I had left the apartment that morning.

I headed straight for my usual spot, a secluded four-person table on the second floor. It was hidden behind the horticulture section, not exactly a popular spot for students, so I was rarely disturbed. I unloaded my books and pulled out my baggie of snacks, getting ready for an afternoon of research.

I was making good headway with my paper when I felt a presence in my tiny nook. My pencil froze in midsentence, and I looked up and had to swallow my groan.

“Is this seat taken?” Maxx asked, pulling out the chair opposite me.

“Actually, I usually work here . . . alone,” I said slowly and clearly, hoping he got the point.

Maxx was either being purposefully obtuse or didn’t understand the concept of subtext. I was pretty sure it was the former. He gave me a toothy grin and dropped his bag on the table, knocking over my carefully organized notebooks and highlighters.

I gritted my teeth and moved my things out of his way.

“Whatcha working on?” he asked.

“Shh, keep your voice down. You’ll get us kicked out,” I scolded, letting him see how annoyed I was to be interrupted.

Maxx held his hands up. “Sorry, I’ll leave you to it.”

I gave him a curt nod and bowed my head over my book again. I tried to focus on my reading, but with the smell of his aftershave filling my nostrils, I was finding concentrating with Maxx sitting so close pretty much impossible.

When I had written the same sentence three times in a row, I dropped my pen and rubbed my temples.

“Got a headache?” Maxx asked.

“No, just having a hard time focusing,” I muttered.

“Am I distracting you?” Maxx teased.

I dropped my hands on the table with a bang and cringed. I looked around, hoping the librarian wouldn’t toss me out on my ass.

“I sit back here so people won’t bother me. I’ve got a lot of work to do,” I pleaded, really hoping he’d get up and leave.

Maxx cocked his head to the side. “I’ve been trying to place that accent since I first met you. Southwest Virginia?” he asked, not bothering to address my earlier statement. Clearly he was here for the long haul, and I just had to suck it up.

“North Carolina,” I corrected before thinking about it.

Shit!

Do not engage, Aubrey! Do not engage!

“Ahh, a southern gal,” he said, tapping his pencil against his book.

“Mmm-hmm,” I said unintelligibly, hoping that would be an end to it.

I should have known better.

“Where in North Carolina?” he asked a second later.

“What is this, drive Aubrey crazy with a million questions?” I barked.

“You’re so touchy when you’re studying,” Maxx said, biting his lower lip to keep from laughing. My eyes were drawn to his mouth, and I found myself staring at the full curve of his lips.

Stop it!

I cleared my throat and started packing up my things. There was no way I’d get anything done with Maxx there. I might as well try studying back at the apartment and hope it was Devon-free.

“Don’t leave. I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet,” Maxx promised. He reached out and put his hand on top of mine, stilling me. “Please.” He wielded that word like a weapon. It took the wind out of any and all arguments.

It was annoying.

I settled back in my chair and opened my book up again.

“Fine, but seriously, Maxx, I have a lot to do,” I said, shocked at how quickly I had given in.

Maxx nodded and promptly opened up his own books.

I tried to get back to my research paper, but again, I couldn’t focus. I looked over at what Maxx was working on and saw that he was looking through an Advanced Corporate Finance textbook.

“I thought you were supposed to cure cancer? How does corporate finance help you become a doctor?” I found myself asking.

Maxx looked up at me, and I couldn’t look away. He had a way of looking at me that made me feel like the only person in the world. The only thing that mattered. How was he able to do that? He was so damned magnetic; it was like I was being sucked into his force field, or he was a gigantic black hole that could swallow me up.

“I don’t see being Dr. Demelo in my future,” he responded, his eyes never leaving mine. Did he realize the effect he had on people? I was almost certain that he did, and that was a dangerous power to wield.

It was impossible to read him, and I had always prided myself on my powers of intuition. But when it came to Maxx, I came up disturbingly blank.

“Why not?” I asked, shutting my book. There was no sense in pretending I was going to get any work done. I was in the middle of Maxx 101.

Maxx coughed into his hand and looked away, breaking our connection. “Just not my thing,” he answered.

I was prepared to dig—all the way to China, if I had to.

“Well, what’s your thing then?” I asked, cradling my chin in my hand as I looked at him. The alcove we were sitting in suddenly felt stiflingly warm and almost claustrophobic. I was wearing a turtleneck, and I wished I had worn something lighter. I was hyperaware of how much I was sweating.

I was sure the sudden heat wave had everything to do with the temperature in the library and absolutely nothing to do with the boy who sat across from me.

Maxx smiled a small, secretive grin, and instead of answering, he turned the tables. “What’s your thing? Counseling, right? Is that about your own issues or do you have some kind of savior complex?”

I sat back, debating whether I should be insulted or not. I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to be rude or if it just came naturally. He asked the question with just the right amount of condescension to goad me into defending myself.

“Of course I want to help people. Why else would I be working my ass off like this?” I asked, hating that I had given him exactly what he wanted—information.

“I don’t know. I thought it might have something to do with your sister,” he suggested, his face showing nothing but kind concern.

How dare he throw that back in my face! I had confided in him in a moment of weakness. I should have known I’d come to regret it. My skin flushed, and I felt myself getting angry. Maxx elicited such passionate feelings in me. Whether they were anger or lust, I felt them strongly and overwhelmingly.

He was dangerous for my constitution.

“It’s not appropriate for us to be talking about this,” I said coldly, wishing I had left when I had wanted to.

“I’m not trying to be inappropriate. I told you I thought that talking about your sister was an incredibly brave thing to do. I respect that. I respect you,” Maxx said earnestly.

“I just think that, given what happened to her, it would make you determined to help other people like her. It makes sense. That’s all I was trying to say. I’m sorry if my bringing it up upsets you. That was insensitive of me,” he said, full of apology.

Okay, so maybe I was overreacting a bit. But talking about Jayme with anyone put me on edge. And the way he had casually slipped it into our conversation left me feeling jangled.

Talking with Maxx was an oddly intimate experience. We might as well be sitting here naked.

Now I was thinking about him naked.

Crap!

“It’s fine,” I said, surprising myself with the truth of it. I couldn’t hold his observation against him because it had been the truth.

“And, yeah, I guess Jayme is why I’m doing this,” I admitted, wishing I could staple my mouth shut. Where was my brain’s shut-down function when I needed it? Why was I throwing up information about myself to Maxx of all people?

I’m sure it had nothing to do with those incredible eyes that seemed to beg me to give up my secrets.

“It’s great that you have something you want to do with your life that means something. There’s very little in my own life that I feel that sort of passion about,” Maxx said.

“It sounds like you have something, though, and that’s the place to start,” I offered.

Maxx’s eyes darkened. They literally smoldered. I had always thought that was trite nonsense best reserved for sappy romance novels. But no, Maxx was doing the whole smoldering thing really well.

“You’re right. It’s the perfect place to start,” he murmured, and my heart fluttered madly in my chest. There was that frustrating innuendo again. It left me unsettled and off-balance.

I got to my feet suddenly, knocking my chair to the floor. The clang echoed in the quiet library.

“I really have to go,” I said hurriedly, gathering my things.

Maxx frowned. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, looking hurt.

“No, not at all. I just have things I need to do.” I was making excuses—bad ones. But after my meeting with Dr. Lowell and narrowly avoiding a reprimand, sharing confidences with a group member seemed a surefire way to land myself in a lot of trouble.

“I’ll see you next week,” I said, hugging my book bag to my chest and trying not to run away.

“Bye, Aubrey,” Maxx said, my name soft on his tongue.