Page 30 of Play For Me

She releases the longest, loudest sigh yet, but she climbs up onto the table without saying a word. I turn my back and grab a pair of gloves, taking a deep breath. I’m going to have to touch her now, and that has my heart pounding a little harder.

It’s not that I’m worried I won’t be able to keep things professional. It’s just hard to imagine being this close to her when it’s clear she’d like nothing more than to knock me on my ass.

I do some range of motion checks, moving her knee carefully as I bend, straighten, and rotate it. I keep my eyes on her face, looking for signs of pain, and nearly wince at the tight expression. She’s pissed.

I manage to ignore the tension ramping up between us and focus. I’ve watched these tests plenty of times and done quite a few on my own so it’s easy enough to tap into the routine of it. I tell myself that Cecelia is just another client, just someone who needs my help, and ignore how close our faces are as I take her through each movement.

“Tell me how you usually handle taping this knee.”

She grits her teeth. “I don’t.”

“You don’t tape it…at all?” She just shrugs, not meeting my eye. “Has anyone ever showed you how?” I press.

“I know how to do it.”

I stare at her, waiting for her to say more, to explain. When it becomes clear that isn’t happening, I clear my throat. “Tape can provide stability for the joint and relieve pain?—”

“I know,” she snaps, sounding annoyed now. “I just don’t like wearing it, okay?’

I study her, confused. For someone as dedicated to her sport as she clearly is, it seems really fucking weird that she wouldn’t take advantage of every bit of assistance?—

“You don’t want people to see it,” I blurt out as the truth hits me. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t argue. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want to draw attention to your injury.”

Something shifts in her face, making her look less stubborn and more…vulnerable, I think. “I just don’t like to wear it.”

I think for a moment, wondering how to handle this. “It’s your call, obviously. But I would think you’d want to do everything you can to give your knee support.”

A muscle in her jaw ticks and she looks away.

“How about this? We’ll tape it for today and you can decide if it helps. If not, I’ll drop it.” When she doesn’t answer, I nudge her knee. “It’s just your team out there today, right? How many of them do you think will be wearing tape? It’s not like you’ll be broadcasting anything to your opponents or?—”

“Fine,” she snaps. “Tape my damn knee.” Then she grumbles something under her breath that I’m pretty sure sounds a lot like, “just fucking stop talking about it already.”

I bite back my grin as I get to work. I talk to her while I apply the KT tape, explaining what I’m doing and why so she can do it herself next time if a trainer isn’t around. She might not be thrilled about the idea of wearing it, but she does pay attention, so I’ll take it as a win.

“Okay, we should be all set,” I finally say, stepping away from the table. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that the evaluation is done. I put the tape away while Cecelia jumps offthe exam table, already moving to the door. I shake my head. I don’t think there’s any question thatherreaction to this ending is one hundred percent relieved.

But she doesn’t leave the exam room like I thought she would. I arrange my notes, getting ready for the next athlete, and watch her out of the corner of my eye. She’s standing by the door, fidgeting, like she’s not sure what to do. “Cecelia?” I finally ask.

She sighs long and loud, like I’m putting her through a major inconvenience, and turns back to me. “I wanted to say thank you.”

I blink at her, confused. “Uh, you’re welcome.” There’s a beat of silence. “You mean for the tape?”

She sighs again. “No. For the party.”

When I still don’t say anything, she huffs and crosses her arms. “That asshole put his hands on Violet,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “And you got in between them. I…I really appreciate that.”

“Oh.” I had been sure her only reaction to me at that party was annoyance for how weird I’d acted after. “It’s no big deal.”

Finally, she meets my gaze, and I suck in a breath. She looks so damn sincere, her blue eyes wide and serious. “Itisa big deal. And I appreciate it.” She swallows, and I think I catch a flash of guilt on her face. “I should have said that before.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I know I got…well…” I wince and mutter, “fuck,” under my breath. “I know I got weird that night,” I finally manage to get out. “I just…I don’t always do so great in crowds like that.” She’s watching me, clearly intrigued, and I fucking hate this. Hate having to explain all the stupid quirks that rule my life. Hate being so fucking weird all the time.

“I know I was probably rude,” I snap, sounding pretty damn rude now but unable to help it. “I’m sorry about that. I just…it was a shitty night.”

She watches me for a long moment and I can’t read her expression. Finally, she shrugs. “Okay.”

That brings me up short. “Okay?”