Page 58 of Josephine and Clay

Hate the helplessness of it. Hate the way my body just betrayed me in front of everybody. Hate that Brandon was right. Hate that I knew I was off and climbed on anyway.

Mostly I hate that I can already feel the consequence of it settling in deeper than the break itself.

Grounded.

CHAPTER TEN

Josephine

JUNE 19TH

By eleven thirty, I've convinced myself of three things.

One: I’m not waiting for a message.

Two: I don’t care that there hasn’t been one.

Three: Whatever that was with Clay McCoy was always going to end exactly like this.

Clean, simple, temporary, which is what I wanted.

I press the tip of my pen a little too hard against the chart in front of me, underlining a dosage that was already perfectly legible.

“Josephine.”

“I’m fine,” I say automatically.

Dr. Harris doesn’t respond right away, which is how I know I’m not as convincing as I’d like to be.

I look up.

He’s standing across the exam table, arms folded, watching me with that mildly infuriating patience of his.

“That’s interesting,” he says. “Because I didn’t ask if you were fine.”

I straighten the papers in front of me into a neater stack. They don’t need straightening. “You were about to.”

“I was about to ask why you’ve rewritten the same note three times.”

I glance down. He’s right. “That’s… attention to detail.”

“That’s avoidance,” he corrects mildly.

I give him a look. “I’m working.”

“You're circling your own handwriting.”

“I like it to be consistent.”

“Josephine.”

I sigh, setting the pen down. “I’m just tired.”

“That, I believe,” he says. “You look like you’ve been running on coffee and stubbornness.”

“That’s most days.”

“Not usually with this level of intensity.”