Free Obsessive Compulsion by CE Kilgore Page A

for some reason I haven’t worked out yet, my
brain accepts that as okay as long as it’s us, together. Or maybe that is the reason. Maybe Charlie makes primes work out okay
in my head because she balances the equation.
    One plus one will always be two. Primes plus
one will always be even.
    My jaw twitches as I lower my gaze away from
the charcoal that depicts the back of a masculine silhouette with
head bowed and hands, waist and shoulders bound by thick rope.
“Emma mentioned you had pieces in a Portland gallery, so I looked
it up online. I was just curious, but when I saw them…” My eyes
turn to her as I finish what I never should have started, “…I fell
in love with them.”
    “They were part of my final graduate study
on form and light,” she whispers, leaning in to them and oblivious
to my stare. “I liked the way the rough texture of the rope played
against the smooth nature of the skin, and the model’s figure
really stood out when bound.”
    Leaning back, she blinks, and I think
reality is getting through her shock. She turns to me, but I can’t
meet her gaze. “When did you get these?”
    Maybe I should lie and say I ordered them
last week, but I’m not sure that’s any better than the truth. The
truth is, I am a creepy fucker who’s been obsessed with her
since the day I met her. That understanding, about just how truly
fucked up I am, sets all my nerves on edge.
    “A while ago,” I bark out, my arm flailing
in a cascading tremor I can’t control.
    Fuck! And this is how it ends – not
with a bang but with a stupid twitch. Lovely.
    I retreat to the hallway. “I’ll get your
coat.”
    “I haven’t finished my coffee yet,” her
voice calls from the living room.
    Why isn’t she following me? Why isn’t she
making this easier by running out my door and then slamming that
door in my face? Why is she so stubborn?!
    I take my hand off the coat-closet door
handle with a snort. She’s stubborn because she’s Tornado Charlie,
and she’s blowing through my world, leaving nothing recognizable
behind. With a deep inhale, I peek around the corner, back into my
living room.
    “Well? Can I finish my dinner or not?” she
asks. Her arms are crossed and one of her red eyebrows is raised,
but she’s smirking. Can nothing faze this woman?
    “You’re not mad?”
    “No, Ian, I’m not mad,” she waves it off and
sits back down at the dinette.
    I cautiously follow, waiting to step on the
landmine that’s going to blow my leg off. “How are you possibly
alright with all this?”
    She motions for me to sit while she sips her
coffee. I do as directed, my hands folded in my lap as I wait.
Setting down her mug, she mirrors my pose. “I have a confession to
make.”
    Uh-oh. “Alright?”
    “I’ve caught you staring at me more than
once,” she starts. I’m sure my eyes go wide as I stutter to come up
with some sort of response, but she quiets me with a raised hand.
“I was flattered, am flattered, and curious. I guess I
stared a few times at you, too.”
    I set my coffee down before I choke.
“Oh?”
    She blushes. “You’re a handsome man, Ian.
You’re also kind, considerate, intelligent… I went to The Stables
on Friday because I was curious, both about what goes on there and
about you. When I told Emma and Brandon my reasons, it led to him
telling me about your Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I kina knew
already, but I didn’t know how severe it is.”
    Her eyes lift up to gage my reaction, but I
don’t know what to say. I can’t deny that it’s severe, or that I’ve
been hospitalized for it. I know that I’m currently functioning on
a mixture of uppers and downers that leave me wondering who I am
underneath it all. Often, I don’t think there’s anything of Ian
left.
    “They wanted to prepare me,” she continues,
“for how bad it can get sometimes. Brandon made sure I knew about
the skin contact issues and why you might stare at me or freak out
randomly. He also wanted me to give