Crazy~Sexy~Psycho

Chapter Four

"I think it's down here on the right," I tell my Mom as I try to read the directions to the new therapists office.
"Yup, right here," I point and she pulls into driveway.

I can't wait to be able to drive myself where I need to go. Most people my age have their license but my Mom decided it would be best for me to wait until I was eighteen.

Lucky me..

I look up at the large white colonial house with a wrap around porch, flower pots hang every couple of feet.

"This is it? It looks like a house," my Mom says with a confused face.

"Yeah, I guess it is his house but the office is attached," I open the car door and for once I find myself almost excited for an appointment.

I guess I should say that I'm more intrigued then anything. The guy that lives here is a curious specimen that has been on my mind for two days.

"Have a good appointment, hunny," the words are sweet but her glare tells me not to try anything funny.

"Yes, Mother," I offer my sweetest fake smile and close the door.

She drives away and I walk up the four steps onto the porch. There's two doors, one indicating the office with a sign next to it. I stare at both of them for a few seconds before ringing the doorbell for what obviously isn't the office.

A few seconds later, the door swings open. "The office is that door..." he says before even looking up.

He doesn't even look like the same person. He has a baseball hat on backwards with his hair peaking out from the front of it. A black tank top shows off his arms and I notice a tattoo on the top of his right bicep. A red and black plaid flannel is tied around his waist over a pair of black jeans.

Now he looks like an eighteen year old.

He looks up from the phone in his hands, shocked for just a second before a knowing grin spreads across his face. I notice deep dimples cutting into his cheeks when he smiles.

Damn it, he's even better looking than I remembered...

He puts his phone in his pocket before leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms.

Yeah, remember me asshole?

"Gavin," I greet him with sweet sarcasm.

"Look who it is. My favorite patient," he laughs.

"You little prick!" I push his chest and he stumbles a little but recovers, laughing even more than he was.

"Hey hey," he holds his hands up. " I never said I was the doctor. You just assumed when I walked in and I went along with it. You were very entertaining," he smirks.

"You are not normal," I laugh without humor.

"That's what they tell me," he says almost proudly. "But I am the pot and you're the kettle," he glares at me with dark eyes, a small smile still playing his lips but his expression has a darkness to it "..and we're both the same color,"

"You look different," I blurt out.

He laughs looking down at himself and then back up to my eyes. "Yeah, my Dad likes me to look 'presentable' when I come into his other office and not like a 'delinquent'," he air quotes with his fingers and rolls his eyes.

"Well, you are a delinquent so you might as well dress like one," I snap at him. "Did you actually read my file?"

"No, of course not!" He sounds offended. "I sure as hell wouldn't want someone reading mine. I wouldn't do that to someone," he says sincerely.