The dim fluorescent lights of the coaching office flicker above me as I lean back in the stiff plastic chair, my left leg propped up on the wooden desk. The dull ache throbs in sync with my pulse, a constant reminder of what happened two nights ago on the ice.
“I’m telling you, Coach, it’s not that bad,” I protest, though we both know I’m full of shit. The MRI confirmed it—a Grade II MCL sprain. Nothing career-ending, but enough to keep me sidelined for at least four weeks. The timing couldn’t be worse with the playoffs just around the corner.
Coach Thompson sighs heavily, running a meaty hand through his graying hair. “Lee, you know as well as I do that rushing back from this kind of injury is a recipe for disaster. You need proper rehab if you want to get back on the ice without doing permanent damage.” He flips open my medical file, scanning the pages with a critical eye. “Which brings us to your new best friend for the next month.”
My eyebrows furrow as he scribbles something on a notepad. “Who’s that?”
He tears off the sheet and hands it to me. Chloe Bennett – Student Athletic Trainer. The name sends an unexpected jolt through my chest. I’ve seen her in the stands more times than I can count, always wearing my number 14 jersey like some kind of lucky charm. Blonde hair pulled back tight, green eyes fixed on the game with an intensity that borders on adorable.
“Chloe’s one of our top students,” Coach explains, noticing my reaction. “She’ll come to your place three times a week for physical therapy and make sure you’re doing your exercises properly.” He stands up, signaling the end of our meeting. “No slacking off, got it? This is your ticket back to the ice.”
I nod reluctantly, pocketing the note as I hobble out of the office on my crutches. The thought of some trainer bossing me around for a month isn’t exactly thrilling, but if it means getting back in time for playoffs, I’ll deal with it. Besides, Chloe… Chloe Bennett. There’s definitely worse assignments.
…
As the door closes behind her, I find myself already counting down the hours until 8:00 AM the next morning, thrilling in the anticipation of more than just physical therapy…
The first kiss is tender, exploratory. My lips brush against hers, feeling the softness I’ve imagined during so many sessions. She tastes like mint tea and something uniquely Chloe—a flavor that makes my blood run hotter in an instant.
As our chemistry ignites into a passionate blaze, I whisper, “Tell me you want this.” She answers, breathless and eager.
Our hearts race as I pull her closer, urgency overtaking the hesitation of mere weeks before. In that moment, the world outside fades; it’s just us, tangled in desire, caught up in the thrilling reality that our bodies crave each other in ways that are beyond comprehension.
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