Dirty Little Bastard

27

"Get your bloody hands off me!" He grumbled out at one of our nurses, Henry, who was trying to wrap an ACE bandage around his ankle, which would add compression and decrease swelling.

"Scarlett," Dr Stanley was first to notice me.

Theo had been cursing off the nurse before he heard my name. His head snapped over towards me standing at the doorway.

"Scarlett," he cleared his throat, dark eyes intensely on mine. I had no idea how to feel, nor how to act.

"Shit," he hissed and snapped back to reality as nurse Henry tried to place on the bandage again, "I told you not to fucking—"

"If you don't calm down, I'll call security to restrain you," I spoke up, gathering everyone's attention.

Dr Stanley gave me an approving nod at managing to silence Theo.

"Scarlett, take over. Henry, you're coming with me to check on Mrs Hansen. She's been having heart palpitations and chest pains," Dr Stanley spoke, motioning for him to follow with a few simple moves of his hand.

"But, I—" realisation hit me and I was immediately protesting.

"This isn't a second grade sprain," he stopped by me and raised his brows at me, "you don't need me here making sure you place the bandage on correctly. Find me after you're finished, we'll start evening rounds."

"Dr Stanley, you don't understan—" if I only informed him about the basics of Theo and me, he'd surely change his mind.

"I understand, trust me. Females spill gossip left and right these days," he rolled his eyes, "he's not happy, I want you to keep him calm. Be professional, do what you're here to do."

Before I even had a chance to say anything, he walked past me. Henry gave me a tightlipped smile and quietly wished me good luck, before following after Dr Stanley.

I took a deep breath and gathered myself. My eyes met Theo's again, and I stepped up to the bed he was sitting up on. He was still wearing the football shorts and tee shirt which he had been wearing during the match.

I examined his bruised ankle, noting it really wasn't too severe. He would be able to walk somehow, not needing crutches or anything of that sort.

"You have a grade one sprain, Mr Black..." I kept my eyes on anything but his, determined to keep professional.

He laughed dryly, "you can't be serious. We're alone, you don't have to be so proper."

"This is an ACE bandage," I took it into hands, ready to place it around his ankle, "it will decrease the swelling."

He was completely quiet, letting me carefully and gently wrap it over his sprain. I could feel him watching me, but I daren't look back. My heart was racing.

It was completely quiet as I finished putting the ACE bandage around his bruised ankle.

"How did you sprain it?" I asked, straightening up and meeting his gaze.

"One of the Colombian players tackled me. He got kicked out of the Cup for it, though, so it's fine," he explained, a small smile tugging at the side of his lips.

"Oh. Well, I'm going to need you to apply ice everyday onto your ankle, it will help with the swelling, and also avoid putting too much pressure on it," I cleared my throat, knowing he wouldn't be too pleased with what I was to say next, "you can return to playing football in about a week."

"A week? Please tell me you're joking," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not. A week isn't that long, just rest and—"