Hit on Open Ice

Nine.

"Uh huh," he grumbled as we rounded the corner.

"I didn't!" I sighed. "I meant, like, you're up out of bed and walking. Which is good. Since you're leaving today and all. That's all I meant."

"Okay, doc. I believe you."

But the look on his face gave away that he, in fact, did not. I couldn't blame him; I was a terrible liar.

"Don't worry. It's a normal reaction women have around me. I'm used to it." His grin reappeared, more devious this time.

I scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure you are."

"You're looking good today also, if I do say so myself." He paused, his eyes flickering over my body. "I mean, since you're up and walking and all."

My cheeks flushed and I laughed. The banter between us felt natural, and I craved more—more attention, more conversation, more everything.

"How does your knee feel?" I asked, deciding that keeping the conversation professional was the only chance I had at keeping my sanity intact—and possibly my job.

He took his weight off the crutches and stood up straight; it was then I could see just how much he towered over me, my five-foot-seven frame paling in comparison to his large one.

"Better than I expected it to. You're a miracle worker." My cheeks flushed with warmth as I gazed into his green eyes, the corner of my mouth turning up in a sly grin. The way he looked at me was captivating, and God if I didn't want to kiss him right then and there.

"I wouldn't go as far as to call me a miracle work," I replied bashfully, tucking a stray blonde hair behind my ear. "But-"

"Well I would," he interjected. "You're pretty great. Don't sell yourself short." With that he began walking again, and after a couple seconds of standing dumbfounded, I peeled my feet from the floor and caught up to him.

We walked a few more laps, chatting easily, mostly about his imminent return to the ice and how much he was looking forward to it. His glee was infectious, I couldn't take my eyes off of him, and unless I was imagining things his seemed to stay glued to me, as well.

He finally stopped when we arrived at his room for the third time, hobbling inside and collapsing on the bed. I remained planted in the doorway, though all I could think about was shutting the door behind me, running my fingers through his thick hair, tangling my tongue with his and allowing my body to take what it so desperately wanted.

I wouldn't do that, though, no matter how badly I yearned. I couldn't. There had always been a part of me who was terrified of breaking the rules, always fearful of upsetting the balance of life or not doing what was expected of me. Even as an adult I still struggled with that, and this situation was no different. Even though it truly felt different, different than anything I had experienced before.

He slid off his brace and rubbed at the sore muscles that flexed below his skin, careful to avoid the sets of sutures that circled his knee cap. He pulled his head up and his eyes met mine, his lips fixated in a flat line.

"Well, I guess it's time for me to let you get out of here. The nurse will be in shortly to do your dismissal. You'll follow up at the clinic with Dr. Roth in a few weeks and he'll determine whether or not you're cleared to return to play. And in the meantime-" I paused, feeling my heart crack inside my chest "-good luck with everything. Maybe I'll try to make it to a game sometime."

I began to back out into the hall, his lips threatening to turn into a smile, and eventually they did, though it looked different than the ones he normally flashed.
It almost looked sad.