Study Sessions With The Bad Boy

Chapter 13 (Monday)

Mitchell's POV

Flashback to Saturday Morning

I inhale another long drag from the cigarette one last time before I ash it. I have a feeling this is going to be a long morning. A long morning that I've been dreading since last Saturday morning. I get out of my car and head inside the overly fancy building. I don't understand why it's made up like some five star hotel when that's not the kind of place it is. It should have blue or white walls, be dull, maybe even soothing. No fancy pictures, bright colors, extremely nice furniture or anything of that nature. We're not here to be impressed or fined and dined.

"Good morning, Mr. Maxwell," says the front desk lady.

I cringe at the name. It's like she's seeing me as my father. It makes me feel like him and every time, it feels even worse. "I've told you numerous times not to call me Mitchell," I say, putting my head in my hands, already becoming more than frustrated.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Maxwell, but we are required to address patients by their last name," she explains.

Patients...Mr. Maxwell...patients...Mr. Maxwell! This is all too much. I still haven't gotten used to any of it. "Whatever," I say, turning around to get out of here as fast as possible. I can't take it anymore. Classy music, fancy pictures, bright colors, extremely nice furniture, and everything else like we're here on a vacation.

"Mitchell, I truly hope you weren't planning on standing me up today."

I stop dead in my tracks and sigh. "No, Dr. Hines. I'm coming now," I say.

"Very well. Let's go," he says, grinning as he waits for me to lead the way.

"Fire her," I say, pointing at the front desk lady as I pass.

She gasps. "What!"

"Don't worry, dear. He doesn't run things around here. Only his father," Dr. Hines says, laughing.

I enter his room and sit down on the couch across from his desk. I slouch down as far as I can, still feeling no comfort. Nothing in this place makes me feel comfortable. I can feel my dad all over it. Everywhere I turn there is something that makes me remember him. This is all him. His designs, his favorite bright colors, favorite classy music, favorite fancy pictures, and favorite extremely nice furniture!

"Why should I fire Rebecca? She's one of our best secretaries," Dr. Hines says, finally entering the room with a bowl filled with Hershey's Kisses. He sets it down on the table in front me and then sits behind his desk.

I grab two and pop them into my mouth easily. He always takes the wrappers off because he knows they bother me. Imagine that, a grown man with a PhD and all kinds of other degrees, sits behind his desk and unwraps over two hundred kisses just so a young adult, who's perfectly capable of doing it himself, won't be slightly bothered. I guess that's just what shrinks do. "Don't fire her. Change your requirements. I don't want to be called Mr. Maxwell," I say, feeling the distaste on my tongue just saying it.

"But I didn't make the rules, Mitchell. You're father did. He wants everyone to be addressed by their last name as a sign of...respect," he says.

"Figures." I grab two more and pop them into my mouth even quicker than last time. The sweet chocolate dances on my tongue, calming my nerves slightly. Like cigarettes.

"What's wrong with being called Mr. Maxwell? Does it make a change in your mood?"

"It makes me feel like him," I mutter.