Physical Therapy (3 page)

Damn, Pilates was painful! This ended, now. I resolved that I would become toned out of my mind so I would never have to subject myself to these beginning stages again.

On Wednesday, Ethan had hardly spoken to me. He stuck to small talk and maintained a stiff posture. It made me a little sad, but on Friday he was back to Monday-Ethan, laughing and talking with me. I think he even flirted. Maybe.

And now I had to wait two more days before I saw him again. I couldn’t sit still that long.

“Nell!” I shouted.

Light but manic steps, so familiar to me, carried Nell into the living room where I was folded into a weird flappy position that hurt my boobs.

“I’ll be ready as soon as I dry my hair,” she declared.

“Huh?”

“You want to go shopping right? You can’t work out in that stuff.”

Of course Nell knew what I needed. She always did.

“Yeah, thanks. It’s not so easy in sweats,” I shrugged.

“Sure. You can’t fool me; I know it’s that therapist you have a thing for.” She crossed her arms and waited for me to spill.

I didn’t attempt a denial, resigned to interrogation. “How did you know?”

“You weren’t crotchety after Monday’s appointment, you spent three hours getting ready on Wednesday, you blushed like a virgin all day yesterday, and your meds destroy your filter so you’ve talked about him all week without knowing it.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No biggie,” she shrugged. “I Googled him. He’s gorg!”

“Okay, seriously, how did you know his name? You’re so bizarre.”

“It’s on the paperwork that you never read.” She looked appropriately smug.

I humphed.

The quick jaunt to the outlet mall I had originally envisioned turned into a two-day spree of store hopping. I hated every moment, but at least it passed the time.

On Monday, I sat in my “usual” chair in the waiting room, thumbing through another ancient and idiotic magazine. It was ten minutes past my appointment time, but Ethan hadn’t come to get me yet. I was growing very impatient.

As I scanned my surroundings for the umpteenth time, I heard voices from the back. Some sort of altercation was occurring, and one of the voices was clearly Ethan’s. I would recognize it anywhere.

The swing-door that separated the clinic’s areas flew open violently, and Ethan practically dashed out. A greasy-looking old guy with a waxed moustache was hot on his heels, one hand extended in the direction of Ethan’s posterior. Seriously.

“The appointment is over, Mr. Paloma, please,” Ethan said as he ducked behind a row of chairs.

“Don’t give me no lip, sonny boy. I caught you staring! You want a sugar daddy?”

The look on Ethan’s face was priceless, eyes bugged out and lips pressed together like they were trying to keep poison out. Once the shock passed, he tried a different approach. “Paloma, look, I’m straight as a ruler. I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass on that... generous offer.”

I snorted, and I think he heard me because his shoulders shrugged in their now-familiar way.

“Ain’t no straight boy pretty as you, sonny.”

Well now, I objected to that. My gaydar was infallible, and Ethan didn’t give off a flicker. Although he was very, very pretty. I couldn’t blame the old lech for his mistake.

Paloma made a grab for Ethan again, who suddenly turned around and headed straight for me. He looked panicked. I laughed in his face.

“Having some trouble, sonny boy?” I scoffed.

“Smart ass.” He smiled at me, but kept looking over his shoulder as Paloma strutted closer. The guy was actually really creepy, I had to admit.

I wondered why none of the other staff were helping Ethan, but they were all laughing from the safety of the reception desk. Sabrina was there, too, and, judging by the smug look on her face, she had set Ethan up with Paloma in the first place.

Frigid ginger witch.

I had an unconquerable urge to wipe that look right off her ugly mug. I turned to face Ethan and drew closer to him.

“Need some help?”

He breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. I could see Paloma approach; he only had one more chair row to cross. I almost broke my concentration when I realized that Ethan had run full tilt away from a guy who moved at a snail’s pace.

The creepy claw-hand began to extend again. I slung my good arm around Ethan’s neck and attempted some semblance of a hug, spinning us both around in the process just before Paloma made contact with my butt.

I let go of Ethan, reluctantly, and fixed a stunned look on my face. I turned to look straight into Paloma’s eyes.

“What the hell?” I shrieked.

Paloma stiffened and locked his arms behind his back, shocked. Everyone looked shocked, especially Sabrina.

“You got in my way!” he accused after he seemed to get over being foiled.

Wow. This guy was something else.

“Of what? You groping my boyfriend?” I sneered at him, but hoped that I wasn’t overdoing it. I hadn’t really meant that last part to come out.

“Your boyfriend, huh? You covering fer him?”

Before I could think of an appropriate comeback, Ethan’s hand snaked around my waist and pulled me back against his body. Thinking wasn’t really an option anymore.

“Look, pal, your appointments here aren’t going to work out, so I’ll give you a referral to another office. And please stop harassing my girlfriend.” Ethan’s tone was serious, and he didn’t stumble at all over the label he gave me. It did funny things to my chest area.

Paloma squinted at Ethan’s face above me. “Hmm,” he said. “Guess you ain’t kiddin’.’”

“Nope,” Ethan said.

Paloma huffed and turned to leave, albeit grudgingly. I was about to enter that stage of
Ethan’s hand is still on my waist, so how the hell do I react to that,
when he grabbed my hand and hauled me off into the back. I managed to wink at Sabrina in passing.

We entered our usual therapy room, and Ethan closed the door before he burst into raucous laughter. I couldn’t help but join him, and we blew a good five minutes on tear-inducing fun. The back of my mind focused on the hand that remained so nicely wrapped in his.

When we calmed down a little, Ethan stared at our joined hands for several seconds and then let me go like a hot potato. I was disappointed until he spoke again.

“Tasha, you are fantastic.” He was still kind of laughing, but kind of not.

“Yeah, I know.” I grinned.

“Thank you so much. That guy was a complete ass-hat.”

“No problem. Glad to be of help in driving away the freaky old perv.”

“Now that the humor has died down, it’s kind of mortifying actually.” He blushed. Man, it was cute.

“Does this happen to you a lot?” I couldn’t help but wonder. After all, I could barely keep from stalking him myself.

He raked his hands through his messy hair. “Umm…not like that. That was the worst ever.”

“Well, good. No repeat performances then.”

“Yeah. We’d better get started or I’m not going to be of any help to you at all today.”

“Laughter is the best medicine.”

“True.” He turned to fetch the massage supplies, and I slipped the requisite gown over my head. Since we had limited time together, I wasn’t going to waste any of it by sending him out of the room just so I could change. I’d gotten this down to a routine, and I was wearing my new super-cute yoga clothes, making it easy to slip off my hoodie and tank under the gown.

When Ethan turned around again, I was all ready and he rewarded me with a pretty awesome, eyebrow-raising, mouth-gaping stare.

“Did…did you just…” he stuttered adorably.

“Yeah. I just changed right in front of your face in like, three seconds.”

His grin split his face in two. “Did I mention how fantastic you are?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure I’m convinced yet.”

“I guess I’ll have to find a way to make it clearer.” How did I always end up turning into some cheesy, flirty weirdo with valley-girl speak when I was around him?

He winked at me. “Okay, DuPont, torture time.” He held up the massage oil. ’Cause having Ethan’s hands all over me is so painful. Sure.

****

A month passed, four weeks of blatant flirting, deep conversations, and neither of us making a move. Oh yeah, and some therapy.

“So, Tasha. Can you bring a swimsuit next week? I think you’re ready for water therapy.” He shuffled his feet and rubbed his palms together, but it was nothing compared to the raging anxiety that suddenly took over my body.

“Umm…what?”

“A swimsuit? A one-piece is best since you’ll have to move around a lot.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah, okay. Wednesday.” I mumbled the whole lot of it.

“Tasha, you okay? Do you dislike water?” Ethan’s brows drew together and the corners of his lips turned down.

I looked into his sincere gaze and realized I could either let self-consciousness take over and prevent me from possibly seeing Ethan dripping wet and shirtless, or I could suck it up and be okay with being mostly naked in front of him.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just scared of slipping on the bottom. I do that every time, and I don’t want to hurt myself again.” All that was true anyway.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll catch you.” He smiled his crooked grin.

Hmm. Maybe I would have to slip on purpose.

As I drove home, I thought about the hours I’d spent with Ethan and was startled to realize I was halfway done with the regimen. Ethan had once said in the beginning that it could be more or less depending on my progress. I knew my insurance was really good and that not everyone got such a great PT package, but still…I should be grateful that I go to see him as often as I did, not resentful that our time was halfway over.

I also knew I was a complete idiot, because I had been working very hard to get stronger in order to heal, but this also meant less time with Ethan. Maybe I could finally get the guts to ask if he wanted to see me outside the clinic. So maybe I was timid, and maybe I was fully aware that the league he inhabited was worlds above mine…more like Sean’s bimbo’s league.

However…

I was also very aware that he had been outrageously flirting with me for the whole of every session we’d had. Now, this might be because he hardly had any female clients, and I knew I wasn’t
that
bad to look at. Or it might be because he behaved that way with every female client he
did
have.

But I didn’t think so. We both acted like absurd high school freshmen whenever we were together, and he was a total dork. The dorkiest dork I had ever seen.

And now he would see almost all of my flesh in a clinic swimming pool.

I was going to need Nell.

****

I stood at the water’s edge, a generic spa robe covering the frankly awesome one-piece Nell had found for me, something called a monokini, although I had never heard of such a thing. According to Nell, it “has the functionality and moveability of a sport suit, but the smoking-hot factor of a bikini, all in one adorable half-yard of slightly shimmering blue fabric.”

Quote.

Ethan was digging in a bin to find some sort of floaty to support my shoulder, and I watched the muscles in his calves strain as he peered farther into it. We were alone in the pool room, and I suppose I should have expected this, but I hadn’t. I’d thought there would be groups of patients, or other therapists working with their clients, but Ethan told me the pool was booked for just one team at a time because of its small size.

We were a team. Cool.

The skylights flooded the whole room with peaceful natural light. Peaceful that is, until Ethan removed his shirt.

It was the act I had been hoping for, and I thought my imagination could have provided a fairly accurate picture of his body, but it didn’t. Not even close. I stared, completely losing the ability to close my mouth. I supposed anyone in his field should be well-toned, but he was different, not bulky or distorted but beautifully streamlined. His muscles rippled under his skin in a way that made me want to be dragged by the hair into a convenient cave.

He jumped into the water and emerged just as he had in my fantasy, although I really needed slow motion or possibly a pause button.

He caught my eye and laughed. “Hey, I said I’d catch you if you slip. No need to look so alarmed.”

His laughter was a good sign. It meant he had no idea why I was staring. I smiled forcibly and forgot to do the sexy, slinky cover-up removal thing Nell taught me, unceremoniously dumping the robe somewhere behind me.

I didn’t look up at him since I was trying very, very hard not to shake as I entered the water, descending the steps one at a time with significant pauses in between. He was too silent, so I stole a glance once I was adjusted to the temperature. He was gazing straight at my chest.

Thank you, Nell.

I was beginning to think my roommate was a genius. She also told me if water was involved, every guy wished every girl would do that thing from that eighties movie with the pool and the hot chick.

I ducked completely under the water and hopped closer to him, still five or six feet away. I stood up slowly, tilting my face up into the light and letting the water drip down my body, raising my hands to gather my hair behind me.

My gaze returned to him when I heard a sliding, bumping noise. Ethan had slipped on the pool floor and fallen flat on his back. He sputtered as he tried to stand up again, coughing and cursing.