by Suzanne Hart
“Chet.”
I turned around to find Heather standing in the doorway; her slender body draped in expensive-looking jeans and a white blouse. Her blond hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, a cap on her head. She licked her lipstick covered lips as she came at me, her arms open for a hug.
“Heather.”
We hugged and I wrinkled my nose at her Chanel perfume.
“It’s so nice to see you.” She smiled at me before glancing at the bartender. “G&T please.” She barely acknowledged him.
I pursed my lips. Wow. She had really ossified into something. “My mother mentioned you might say that.”
Her eyes widened, but then she erupted into laughter. “Oh really? Did she?”
I nodded at this confirmation that my mother hadn’t been lying about her enthusiasm. “How do you two even run into each other?” I asked as I took a sip of my old-fashioned.
She shrugged. “You know we always got along, Chi.” She put a hand on my shoulder.
I winced at my old nickname. “I see, you still haven’t let the straightener incident go.”
I jumped as she laughed again, grabbing her drink from the bartender and making her way to the window to overlook the field. I followed her with my drink, gazing down. The field was alive with activity, referees running across, techs checking the turf, coaches standing around, discussing this play or that, probably talking about expectations. I gazed down at the stands. The fans were still pouring in, brandishing hot dogs and nachos and beers in plastic cups. At that moment, I wondered what it would be like to be down there.
The feeling of Heather’s hand on my back took me out of it. “I’m sorry, I know you hate that.” She said, a smile on her face telling me she wasn’t sorry at all.
I glanced back down at the field, my eye searching for one person only. “I love how you insist on doing things you know I hate.”
She grabbed my chin in her hands. I clenched my hands into fists to avoid swiping her hands off. “Oh, are you still mad about us?”
I cocked my head to the side. “I don’t think about us at all.”
She frowned. “You can’t stand to show your soft side, can you?”
I rolled my eyes, all hopes of being friends again slipping away. There I was again, back to loneliness. “Didn’t do us much good, did it?”
In one quick moment, she drew my face towards hers and planted a kiss on me. Her tongue dug into my mouth. It was like she was trying to simply pick up where we had left off. I pushed her off, clearing my throat, my face turning beat red. “If you don’t behave yourself, I’ll ask you to leave.”
That’s all the acknowledgment I was going to give that ridiculous moment.
I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed by this or not, because I immediately turned my attention back on the field. In that moment, it was easy to find Dahlia. She had taken her perch along with the coaches a cute, purple umbrella pitched up, an entire case of water set up. I chuckled at the site of her. She was the mascot for water. I cocked my head to the side, wishing, more than anything, that I could fuck all of this, go down there and be with her.
I wondered what was holding me back in the first place.
Dahlia
After about a month, I couldn’t tell whether I was getting more used to the weather or if the weather had decided to have mercy on me. I would no longer burst into a hot sweat, my face red, my legs burning, in the first moment outside. No. Now it took at least a good hour for me to start feeling suicidal. As I sat on the bleachers of the practice field, a book in my hand, I glanced up every once in a while, scanning all of the players to make sure that they were doing all right before facing my book again. It was interesting to find out that most sports doctors before me didn’t monitor the practices like I did, just depending on the coaches to solicit their services if they felt like they needed them.
But I didn’t like that approach. I had to overcompensate for the fact that I was new at this and I wanted to send a message to the coaches that I wasn’t someone they could order around, that I was there to monitor them and oversee them. But also, I was anxious to learn more about the game so that I didn’t feel like such a damn fool. Every time the crowd would go wild behind me, I would start darting my gaze around the field, wondering what the hell got them so excited in the first place.
I sat down again, Picking up my book and taking another gulp of my water bottle. I glanced down in between my legs and was pleased to find that there were no sweat stains, or thigh chafing incidents that day. I was home free.
“Hut!” The Quarterback, Vince Watkins yelled.
I put my book down and watched, my eyes locked on the bodies as they dispersed, an ordered madness to their movements. Watkins launched the ball at another player, Harrison, who caught it, the wispy sound making my heart jump, and immediately turned to start running. He sprinted across the field, dodging this player and that.
I watched with wide eyes, actually becoming excited by this in spite of myself, wishing him onward, until he collided, with a crunch, into Milburn, the crash of their bodies hitting each other, their helmets slamming together, being heard all across the field.
“Oh!” Russ yelled. But when I glanced at him, I saw an expression that was more excitement than concerne.
I turned my attention back to the players. Milburn had hit Harrison right in the torso, the force of his forward motion causing him to be propelled forward over Milburn. And yet, Milburn had been moving in the opposite direction with so much forward momentum, that having Harrison flip over him, grabbing his jersey as he went, caused him to fly, propelled by all the energy he went into the collision with. He slid backwards after landing on his shoulder. He was still half-upright until he skid to a stop, his own right foot stopping him.
I shot up.
“Damn, son!” Russ yelled.
“Harrison!”
The entire team came to join around.
I darted off the bleachers and out onto the field.
“Y’all give him some space!!” Russ, hollered as he got there first.
My heart rate slowed as I watched Harrison stand up. He was holding his right ankle up and wincing in pain. When he tried to take a step forward he doubled over, a grunt slipping out of his lips.
Russ wrapped his arms around him, holding him up. “That’s all right son. You’re all right.”
I was panting by the time I reached them. “Let me get a look at this. Let go of him.”
I tried to ignore the way Russ rolled his eyes at the mere fact that I was giving him a direction, but he stepped aside for me anyway, slowly lowering Harrison down to the ground. “Great. Harrison, are you okay? How are you feeling?”
He pursed his lips, his brow furrowed in pain, but then said. “It’s nothing. Just a sprained ankle. I’m gonna be fine.”
I sat down with my legs crossed under me and swiped the hair out of my face before I took a good look at his foot. From the looks of it, it seemed like he was right about it. I couldn’t see any obvious breaks. “Okay. Can you explain the pain level from 1-10?”
“Waters, can you get on with it? We still have several plays to run through.”
I winced at Russ’s impatient voice but told myself to ignore it. You had to force people like him to respect you. He wasn’t going to do it on his own. “I need to examine his foot.”
“It’s a seven.”
I raised an eyebrow. “A sprained ankle shouldn’t be a seven for an athlete like you.”
“Water’s I’m not gonna tell you again,” Russ said.
I glowered at him. “I need ice. Your player needs ice.”
He huffed. “We don’t have time for this shit.” He muttered, then he gestured at Milburn. “Get this lady an ice pack.”
Lady? His ankle was starting to bruise. “Look he needs to sit out the rest of this practice so I can make sure he’s okay.”
Russ ducked his head in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? The man says he’s fine. Just make yourself
useful and wrap it so we can get on with it.”
“He shouldn’t be playing with an injury this severe.” I pressed, standing up.
“What the hell do you know about playing?”
“It’s not my place to tell you how to do your job, so don’t tell me how to do mine!”
Russ stepped up to me, not stopping until our faces were scarcely a foot apart. “Look, little lady. You need to learn to have the sense to shut up when someone tells you to.”
I couldn’t stop the exasperated expression from blowing across my face. “Are you kidding me? I’m the doctor here. I am in charge of this situation.”
He let out an amused chuckle, glancing around at the players that had gathered to watch this exchange. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. This is the field. You are the last person in charge.” he sneered. “Harrison?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell her you’re doin’ fine so that we can end this.”
I shifted my gaze to Harrison, who winced as he forced himself to stand up. Playing on an injury like that could cause long-term damage and lead to another, more severe injury. What kind of world was I in, that that was not the main concern? What was wrong with these people? I had never felt more out of place than in that moment.
“I think I’ll be alright Waters.”
I glanced around at the all of those players, feeling like a fish out of the water as they all gazed at me with those wide open expressions. I don’t know what they expected; maybe for me to run away crying, to yell at them, to keep fighting a losing battle… I settled on just walking away.
My face turned red as I sat back in the bleachers for the rest of that practice, watching Milburn directly ignore my medical advice. I had been so used to being the one in charge that this was weird for me, and watching people running around doing the wrong thing was weirder. But I forced myself to sit there up until the very last minute of that practice, hoping that no one else would get injured, forcing me to associate with Russ again.
Luckily, my prayers were answered.
By the time I was heading back to my office, I felt like complete shit, defeated, sluggish from being out in the sun all afternoon and tired from my infuriating run-in with Russ. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. How was it still acceptable for him to talk to me, or anyone else for that matter like that? I slammed the door behind me and sat on my desk, my mind racing in thoughts that I wished I didn’t have.
I had been sitting there trying to calm down for ten minutes before I heard a knock on my door. My heart started racing; maybe it was Russ. Perhaps he had come back to apologize for his ridiculously disrespectful behavior. But when I opened the door, my eyes widened at the site of Chet on the other side of the threshold.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I let him in, making it a point to leave the door open on my way back to my desk. I sat down at my desk, forcing some distance between us in case I got some inappropriate urges.
But it was hard not to think those thoughts while watching him approach me; his perfect body draped in another suit, his hands shoved in his pockets, his bulge particularly visible. “To what do I owe the pleasure.” I didn’t mean to snap at him.
But his face brightened with that charming smile. “Do you not want me to be here?”
My eyes widened, my face turning hot with embarrassment. “God no. Sorry. I just. I had a bad day.” My eyes started to water as all the anger came washing back.
He frowned, sitting down in the chair on the other side of the desk and leaning towards me. “And why is that?”
I loved the way that he gazed at me like I was the only thing that existed in this whole world. I wanted to open up to him, precisely because he made me feel like he also would want nothing more. “I got into a fight with the head coach.”
When he raised his eyebrows, I remembered his position and regretted saying anything at all. But then he sighed and said, “Russ?”
“He’s trying to have Harrison play on a sprained ankle.” I bit my lip.
But he just gave me a blank stare. “Isn’t that what they do?”
I shook my head. “Well, I mean, I….” God, I was so flustered. “It’s kind of a big deal…” I huffed out a breath, feeling defeated.
But he shrugged. “Well, you’re the doctor. If you say it’s a big deal…”
A smile tugged at my lips. It was nice to hear his support. “You’re just saying that because- …” But I stopped myself. If I confronted the truth that we both knew; that we were insanely attracted to each other, then I’d have to face the other, more unhappy truth; that I couldn’t have him. I was so hopelessly unavailable. The image of James came to mind.
But then Chet leaned towards me on the desk, the informal pose from such a formal man making my skin crawl with desire. “Because I want you.”
All of a sudden, the air got heavy and thick. I watched his eyes scan my body, making me hyper-aware of my t-shirt, and the fact that my hair was in a ponytail, exposing my neck. His lips parted, ever so slightly, as I let myself watch him stare. My eyes fell on his bulge… and lingered there.
When I looked up again, I saw that he had noticed the subject of my gaze.
I wished I could stop my cheeks from turning red hot with that blush.
“So, the question remains. What will you do with that information?”
There it was. I had to face the issue. But I felt more like I was getting lost in him than anything else. I had to grasp at something. “Nothing. I have a boyfriend.”
He froze. I watched as it was his turn to blush, and couldn’t deny my impulses to reach out and try to save him from his embarrassment. But there was nothing to be done. I had to cling to who I was. And James was who I was.
He cleared his throat, straightening up in his chair and crossing his legs, a look of complete professionalism on his face. That reserved expression, the way he set his jaw, had the ironic side effect of just enticing me more towards him. I could feel my desire boiling red hot in my veins. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Damn.” I wanted to salvage this. But what did that even mean? Jumpstarting this forbidden flirtation even more?
“No no.” He cleared his throat again, standing up. “I actually came here for a purpose. I have a wedding to go to, a distant cousin. Anyway, I thought it would be a good idea for us to get to know each other.”
My heart sunk. I wanted to go.
“But if you think it will make you uncomfortable…”
“No.” I shot up out of my chair. Then froze. Clearing my throat too. It was my turn to be embarrassed. “No. I think we could go as friends right? People do that.”
There was a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Right. Yeah…. Friends.”
I smiled at him. “Friends.” I reached my hand out for him to shake it.
He held it for long enough for us to realize we couldn’t just be friends at all.
Chet
Blackwood family weddings were practically an institution. We shut down the entire street on the old Catholic church just so that we could pretend we were the center of the world. As I stood on those church steps, waiting for Dahlia to pull up in the car I had sent, I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. After escaping Heather after that game on Sunday and ignoring all of her calls after, I had pretty much decided that Dahlia was the one I wanted to go after. I mean she completely consumed my thoughts from the moment that I woke up to the moment that I went to bed. I wanted nothing more than to taste her lips on mine, feel her touch.
I was starting to get hard, right then and there.
But then I remembered our last conversation. According to her, she was completely off limits. But who was this boyfriend of hers? And how could she so willingly deny such an obvious connection? Another five minutes passed before I caught sight of my mother coming up the steps, her white hair pulled into a low bun and wearing a loud, light blue hat that matched her morning dress. She shot me a forced smile before she stoppe
d on that landing. “Waiting for Heather?”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”
She started walking again. Clearly, I was not her focus. She peered over my shoulder and into the church at the influential people of Dallas quickly pouring through. Even though my mom was the chief editor of a paper, she was a society girl at heart, something that pissed me off to no end. “I don’t know why I try with you.” She shook her head before brushing past me and entering the church.
Before long, a car drove up, and the door opened. My heart stopped at the sight of Dahlia stepping out of the car. She looked stunning in her royal purple gown. The satin cloth hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her lines. Her hips swayed from side to side as she walked towards me, her hair, which she let hang in beautiful ringlets down her back, moving in the late-morning breeze. I struggled to find my breath as she got closer and closer and I found myself completely locked in her gaze. She had me hooked.
I had to have her.
“Hey.”
I gulped. “Hey. Did you get here okay?”
She smiled, an amused look in her eye. “Yeah well, my driver knew how to drive, so. Yeah.”
I glanced into the church, looking for something to distract myself from thinking about how attracted I was to her. “Shall we go inside?” It would be easier to kill my boner if I was sitting inside of a church.
She nodded, that infectious smile on her face. “Sure. Let’s go.”
I let her walk a step in front of me, internally kicking myself for getting an eyeful of her ass, before catching up with her and placing a guiding hand on her back. I led her up the aisle, through people mixing and mingling, and sat her down in the pew. I knew my mother, who stood chatting with someone right by the altar, would sit with me and eventually notice her. I was just trying to bide my time before that awkward encounter.
She sighed as we sat, smoothing out her dress on her legs.
