Anxious Love (Love Sick #1) by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle Read Free Book Online Page A

making a right at Decatur and disappearing from my sight.
    Later that night, Sophie's tentative knock passed through my door.
    "Come in," I called out from my office as I continued to type.
    "Hey," she said with her head lowered as she peeked in the door to my office. I finished a sentence and closed the computer.
    "How was the ginger?"
    His face lit up when she realized I wasn't mad.
    "He was okay. I mean it's a shame when you have so much but don't have a clue what to do with it."
    "Well, maybe he needed someone like you to teach him."
    "I taught him some stuff all right." She collapsed in the overstuffed chair opposite my desk and peered out the open balcony door.
    I cleaned my desk, putting the reference books back in their place on the bookshelf that covered the wall behind me.
    "You okay with tomorrow? I didn't push you, did I?"
    "Yes, but it's okay. It's not a bad idea really."
    "I thought it would be good. We went there a couple of weeks ago, and you were fine. I mean you were good, right?"
    "Yeah," I said with raised eyes. I was basically fine. Sophie didn't need to know how much self-talk and positive affirmation it took for me to leave my house that day. She had no clue that I took a full pill about three hours before we left the house to make sure it would temper my anxiety until after I arrived. No one knew how much physical and mental effort it took me to leave my home daily to face the world. If they did, they would put me back in the hospital.
    Every day, I woke up and got dressed, showered, brushed my teeth, washed my face; everything any normal person did to start their day. I sat at my desk or the kitchen table and mapped out my day. I created a list and charted my route. I worked in alternative routes and always, always had an escape plan to get myself back home. Armed with all this information, I walked to my front door and stood there. Sometimes for a few minutes, and other times, it could be for an hour. I looked over my list, and I made an assessment on whether it was worth it or not.
    Real OCD, I know.
    If it was worth it, I went about my day, adjusting my plan and route and determining the value of each step. Not until I returned to the safety of my home and the familiar and comforting click of the door as I locked it behind me did I take a deep breath. A breath that was nowhere full enough for what I put my brain through, and often, I would collapse in bed, unable to function normally for a few days.
    That was a good day.
    If I determined it was not worth it, I berated myself all day and night until I got up the next morning and did it all over again.
    "Leah."
    I blinked and snapped back to the present.
    "Should I not have done that?"
    "No. It's okay. I want to go." I leaned back. "I like him. I want to give it a try."
    "That's so great." Her face beamed like a proud mother. "What can I do to help?"
    "I don't know yet. But I'll let you know, so stay close." I winked.
    "You know Mark, Allie, and I will do anything for you. You've helped each of us so much. We owe you."
    "You don't owe me."
    "Yes, I do. I know you think your issues make you a difficult friend. And that it's hard for you to let people in, but what you lack in immediacy, you more than make up for in sincerity."
    I grinned remembering why I loved Sophie.
    "Do you allow yourself to think about her?"
    I leaned forward and placed my chin on my hands as my elbows rested on the desk.
    "I think about her all the time." I blew a piece of hair out of my eyes. When it wouldn't move, I stood up, tucked it behind my hair, and retreated to the living room. Sophie followed.
    "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up."
    I turned toward her. “No, it's okay. I don't mind talking about her. I feel guiltier when I go a few days and don't mention her. My therapist calls it survivor's guilt."
    "Oh, when does it go away?"
    "I can feel it hurting less than it did in the past. I mean it’s not as raw as it was when I got out of the hospital, but it still