He stares at her, waiting for her ultimatum. Certainly it'll be something insane. She probably wants him to take peyote and run naked through the desert. At this point there isn't much he'd say no to, and it scares him a little. "Well?"
"Relax, I'm not gonna force you to get high, even though I think it would be good for you. Since you're so averse to that, you're gonna have to partake in some therapy."
"Therapy?" He's parroting her words, the last defense of someone who's genuinely giving up.
"Mmm hmm."
Backing up, she lifts herself up onto the hood of the car. She has some difficulty, flailing her legs as she tries to wiggle back. Danny instinctively steps forward and assists her. His hands mold perfectly to her waist, gripping gently as he lifts her up. He's wedged between her knees, the hands on her totally superfluous at this point.
He could lean forward, so easily, and press his lips against the pulse fluttering gently at her neck. He can still smell the faintly sweet aroma of her shampoo in spite of their little foray into the desert. She wiggles again, the skirt of her dress bunching between her thighs against him. Desire flares inside of him, and he reaches forward, lighting one hand gently on her cheek. It's his go to move, the thing he always does right before drawing a beautiful woman in for a kiss.
Her own breathing stills, and she stares across at him with wide eyes. He chickens out, drawing his thumb across the errant streak of whipped cream sticky on her brown skin. Clearing his throat he backs away. "There was some, uh, schmutz." He rubs his thumb on the rough denim of his jeans, trying like hell to dislodge fluttering in his stomach.
He thinks maybe he imagines the little sound she makes, a swallowed sigh of disappointment, but he can't discount the way her shoulder droop as she scooters further up on the hood. She casts him a pleasant yet restrained smile, returning to their previous activity. "Welcome to my office. I'll need you to lie down on the couch over here." Gesturing to the empty expanse of hood beside her, she waits.
A muffled groan escapes him. "Come on, that's ridiculous."
Her only response is to cross her legs and rest her arms on her knees, palms up as though she's meditating. After a second Danny realizes she is meditating, a whispered mantra falling from her lips. Om Dum Durgayee Namaha.
"Alright, alright, stop." He climbs onto the car with her.
"Actually, this is part of it."
"I'm not meditating."
"Fine, just… breathe deeply with me for a minute, okay?"
He huffs out an irritated breath, drawing her attention.
"Not like that. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Close your eyes and take deep even breaths, until your mind is clear." She can tell he's still resistant, and tries to appeal to him intellectually. "Danny, there's empirical evidence that shows deep measured breathing can lower blood pressure, your heart rate... anxiety levels." Frowning, she continues. "I don't exactly have a biofeedback device but-"
"We have something like that… well, the hospital does anyway.."
Once again, he's graced with a bright wide smile. "Really? I've always wanted to try one out. That's so cool. Maybe you could try it one day, let me know if this breathing helps you."
"Maybe." Her enthusiasm gives his reluctance one last shove, and suddenly it's floating off into the clear blue. What could it hurt?
She leans back against the windshield, mirroring his pose. Her shoulder bumps against his, and he draws in a breath as instructed. When he blows it out something heavy goes with it, and he feels the muscles in his back begin to relax. Instinctively, he opens his eyes, looking to see if there , actually was something pressing down on his chest.
There's nothing, of course, and he returns to the steady breathing. Secretly he marvels as the way his heart slows and his skin cools, as she continues to guide this little exercise. Her voice is calm and measured as she ticks off her instructions. He's almost disappointed when she reaches the end, trailing off quietly, her own eyes drooping slightly as if half hypnotized.
He expects her to jump in immediately, attack him with a barrage of pointed questions, but she just continues to lay by him, chest rising and falling softly as she gazes into the bright blue expanse over them.
"Better?"
He is, suddenly, and he can't tell if it's the simple breathing exercise or the knowledge that she's there beside him, that she will be beside him as long as he asks nicely. His pride won't let him admit her methods have merit, though, and let's out a noncommittal grunt instead.
"Okay then, tell me why I have to come with you."