Compulsive

I hit 'skip' on my iPod in the waiting room, and circle my thumb around the clicker three times. Sometimes I swear, when I put my iPod on shuffle, it thinks I said something like 'Play nothing but the songs that I don't like'. I hit 'skip' again, circle my thumb three times, and finally a good song came up. Just then, with music playing softly in my ears, my therapist's door opened. It was probably just another patient coming out, so I didn't stand up. But I did look up. We made eye contact. The kind of eye contact where both of us blushed and felt a connection. I know it sounds really dumb and cliche, but it was really like that. He walked towards the door, turning to me at the last moment, and mumbled something I didn't catch.
"What?" I called after him. He just laughed and waved. He was tall, probably six foot at the least, and muscular without being too big. His eyes were blue, I'd noticed. His brown hair just barely reached them.
"Lacey?" My therapist, Diana called. I smiled, turned off my iPod and followed her. Quickly I forgot about the boy, as Diana and I talked about my latest panic attack.
I had been staying at my cousin's house. She used to be my best friend, but not anymore. I fell asleep in my bed, as usual when I sleep over. When I woke up, we had breakfast as usual, and then she started to giggle like a little girl.
"What?" I asked, annoyed.

"I switched our pillows last night without telling you," She laughed again. I dropped my plate of pancakes on the floor and ran to the kitchen sink, where I vigorously scrubbed at my face and hair with dish soap. I was sobbing hysterically. When Rachel finally stopped laughing and realized that I didn't find it the least bit funny, she came over to me and tried to get me to stop washing my face. I couldn't. I had to kill all of her germs. I had to get her dust mites off of me! Why didn't she understand?
Rachel started freaking out. I apparently scrubbed a little too hard, and my face was bleeding a little bit. I still had a little scab in Diana's office, right on my left cheekbone.
I'm obsessive compulsive. I can't help what I do, but I try. It isn't germs, necessarily that freak me out. It's the thought of other people's dead skin and dust mites on my skin. That freaks me out.
Before I go to bed every night, I have to count in a certain order, otherwise I'm convinced I won't wake up. 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 1... and so on. I have to go through the pattern three times. If I lose my place, I have to start all over. I have to change my sheets and pillowcases every day, in fear of dust mites. There are lots of other things... I won't go into detail.
I left Diana's office an hour later, feeling more relaxed. I didn't have any panic attacks in the following week, and then I saw Diana again. At the end of our session, after I was describing my latest phase of worries (I have to stay in the basement in case of tornadoes), and she went over calming techniques once again with me, she told me.
"Do you remember a boy walking out of here last week?" She asked. Immediately he sprung up in my mind. I nodded, curious. "Well, do you want to know what he told me?" She questioned. I nodded, intrigued. "He said you have the most amazing eyes he's ever seen." I smiled, but was a little weirded out. I mean, I didn't think guys talked about eyes. I thought they talked about boobs and butts, and sometimes legs. Girls are usually the ones to mention eyes.
"He says he'd like to meet you, Lacey. Now obviously I couldn't tell him your name or anything about you, but I could, if you give me permission." I nodded thoughtfully.

"Give him my name," I said. "Le'ts see what he does with it." I got up and went home. I washed my hands and took my fluoxetine, and then checked the computer. I had a friend request on Facebook. From a boy named Aidan. I clicked on his profile and was surprised. He was the boy from Diana's office. I hesitantly accepted his friend request, and immediately got a message from him. I thrummed my fingers on the desk: thumb, middle, pointer, pinkie, ring. Before I started to type my reply to his simple, 'hey :)'.

'What did you say before you walked out of Diana's?' I asked. I'd been dying to know.

'I said you were cute' I thrummed my fingers again, and then typed my reply.
'no you didn't. no one just says that to a perfect stranger' I sent.

'I do.' Thrum.

'Well... thanks'

'So what's your favorite color?' he asked, surprising me. I thrummed and answered.

'Purple. You?' We continued on. Answer, thrum, reply, answer, thrum, reply, until he asked me if I wanted to hang out. I was incredibly taken aback by this boy. I'd never met anyone who was so forward, and seemingly honest.
I said maybe, that I'd have to ask my parents, and that he could text me if he wanted. I washed my hands and went to my room, straightened a book, and sat down on a newly cleaned sheet. My phone buzzed.
'So what's your favorite movie?' he'd texted.

'I don't like movies,' I answered, after thrumming.

'What??? How can you not like movies?' He replied. I thrummed.

'I don't know.' I lied.

'Would you go to a movie with me?' He asked. I thrummed.

'Maybe,' I answered.

'Public place, lots of exits. I swear I won't do anything. I just want to learn more about you' I thrummed.

'Okay, sure' I said, flattered or something I guess.

'Tomorrow, three o'clock. Will you meet me there?' I agreed, after thrumming, did my counting and fell asleep.