Physical Therapy

by Aysel Quinn

  The minutes ticked by, and I grew less confident in myself as I watched his composed and friendly self proceed in our usual routine. At that moment, I let go. There was no way I could pursue a friendship with him, my feelings were too strong to allow that, but I also couldn’t walk away without showing him exactly what I wanted.

  I watched him speak, the way his mouth turned up when he smiled, the glow in his eyes when he shared a theory about the story, the tip of his tongue as it frequently slipped between his lips.

  I said nothing for far too long.

  “Tasha, are you all right? You’re quiet today.”

  “I’m fine,” I whispered.

  “Are you sure? You look flushed. You aren’t getting sick, are you?”

  The genuinely concerned look on his face broke me. “You do realize this is the last time, don’t you, Ethan?”

  The concern was replaced by a shadow of misery he quickly disguised. “Yes, I know. I couldn’t manage another extension.”

  “You tried?” This was surprising.

  “Yeah.” He shuffled around the small space, his face turned away.

  “Ethan, look at me,” I demanded, knowing this was my final chance.

  It seemed as if he wanted to resist my request, but he didn’t. As soon as his gaze met mine, I grabbed his shirt in my fists and pulled him close, not giving him time to object.

  I crushed my lips to his and felt my breath rush out in a sigh from the contact. My entire body hummed as if it was electrified, and I wove my fingers through his beautiful hair to fuse our mouths further.

  I let him go after only a few seconds, because he didn’t respond.

  He didn’t kiss me back.

  He just stood there with his mouth open, eyebrows reaching for his hairline and hands hanging limply at his sides. I couldn’t say a single word before I ran out of the room and the clinic as fast as my clumsy legs could carry me, all the way to my car.

  ****

  “Tasha, you have to answer the phone!” Nell demanded for the nine-billionth time.

  “I can’t, and you know why.” I shoved a pillow over my face to block out her demand. So what if my bed had a me-shaped dent in the middle and the sheets were smarmy and creased beyond hope?

  “You’re an idiot, and I don’t say that lightly. He’s been trying to talk to you all week, and you’re just ignoring him.”

  “He’s only calling to give some crappy apology, nothing more.” I was sure of this. Absolutely sure. Maybe.

  “How can you know that if you won’t pick up the phone?”

  “I just do.”

  My tone of voice brooked no argument as I slammed my door shut. I didn’t want to see her, or anyone else.

  His rejection completely crushed me. After all the conversations we’d had, the personal things we’d shared, I thought for sure he was interested in me. That he wasn’t the kind of guy who would rather kiss a Brazilian model.

  But I was so painfully wrong.

  Nell’s voice sounded from outside my door. “At least look at your mail. It’s piling up.”

  She shoved a stack of three letters underneath my door. If that was a pile, I was a horse’s ass.

  Which I probably was at the moment.

  I sighed melodramatically when I spotted yet another piece of junk from the insurance company. It took me three tries to understand what its purpose was, and then I shouted for Nell at the top of my lungs.

  She burst through my door with all her tiny might. “What the hell?”

  “What does this mean? Did you do this? Who did this?” I asked with no pause or rationality.

  She read the paper quickly. “I don’t get it, Tasha, why would you have to sign something to allow someone else to make your payments?”

  “So it’s not you?” I had to make sure.

  “Duh. Of course not, ’cause I totally would have said something. Besides, I don’t have the funds for this.”

  “Wow. Okay. I think I need to call them again.”

  Nell nodded her agreement and left me alone again, puzzlement and fear over another mix-up I couldn’t afford clouding my mind.

  When I finally got a hold of a representative and cleared the security nonsense, I was informed I had to return the paper with my signature to allow the payments made to my account to go through.

  “What payments? The therapy clinic took care of all this. It was a billing mix-up,” I complained, already beyond exasperated.

  “Nothing further has been submitted by the clinic or your doctor. Coverage encompassed the original prescription for your therapy, but your plan does not cover any further sessions. It’s a total of $1,800 which has been paid to your account by a third party. All you need to do is mail the release, and you’re good to go.” The whiny, muffled voice of the insurance woman was just so, so irritating.

  I argued with her for too long, parting ways with a huff. I had no idea what was going on.

  Or rather, I wouldn’t admit I had an idea about what was going on, because I did.

  Shoot, I admitted it.

  Ethan had said he took care of the insurance. I watched him photocopy the bill they sent, and he’d told me he called them. He was the only person who could have paid my account apart from Nell, and it obviously wasn’t her.

  He had asked for an extended prescription when we both clearly knew there was no need. He’d said he couldn’t manage it a second time, probably because he didn’t have any more money to blow on my stupid self. He’d worked very hard to keep me there, but I was too blind to notice.

  But why didn’t he kiss me back?

  Well, damn. Maybe because I attacked him like a rabid dog with no warning and ran away from him before he could even react.

  I played back every conversation we’d had, every look and smile he’d given me, and I knew I was making a terrible mistake. Even though I felt like a plague victim and looked even worse, I darted down the stairs to my car outside, stopping only long enough to find some shoes.

  I really hoped there were no police around to catch me in my mad driving spree, and the clinic was almost closed when I pulled into the parking lot. Oh, please, please let him be there.

  As I yanked open the door, I paused momentarily to figure out what the hell I was going to say. I didn’t have an appointment, and I’d just dropped off the face of the earth without ever telling him why. I was mortified.

  And of course, it was the ginger witch at the front desk.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re closing,” she said in her frosty voice.

  “I need to speak to Ethan, please.”

  “We’re closing.” She crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.

  “I…um…hurt my shoulder again. I really need him to make sure it’s okay. My doctor’s office wasn’t open.” I hoped my puppy dog eyes and genuine grimace would convince her.

  Of course not.

  “I’m sorry, we’re closing.”

  I stared at her for an instant, trying to set her on fire with my corneas before shouting as loudly as I could, “Ethan!”

  He dashed around a corner in the back, clearly distressed.

  “Tasha! What…are you okay?” The plethora of emotions on his face was too confusing to sort out.

  “I… I hurt my shoulder again, and I need you to look at it.” My gaze pleaded with him, trying to tell him this had nothing to do with my injury.

  He stared at me for a long while and then nodded. “Sabrina, you can go ahead and close up. I’ll take Ms. DuPont out the back entrance and lock it when we leave.”

  He didn’t allow her to respond, instead leading me to our old, comforting room, with one hand barely grazing my lower back. The door closed with finality behind us, and I turned to face him. “I’m so sorry I haven’t returned your calls. And I’m sorry for kissing you if you didn’t want me to. Ethan, I found out about the insurance payments. I know you didn’t want that, but they sent me a thing…never mind. I just wanted to tell you it was the nicest thing anyone
’s ever done for me, and I’ll find a way to pay you back somehow.” My gaze sank to the floor before I was halfway done, too nervous to watch for his response any longer.

  I heard him step closer to me, and he gently forced my chin up with his fingers.

  He sighed. “First, I wanted you to, more than anything. It just surprised me, and you were gone before I could stop you. Second, I paid for entirely selfish reasons, because I couldn’t figure out another way to keep seeing you. Third, I don’t want to be paid back. It was a gift. Mostly for myself.”

  I attempted to smile, but I couldn’t because the loud pounding of my heart made it too hard to focus. “Maybe you could have asked me out?”

  He laughed ruefully. “Yeah, that would be the logical thing to do. I was too afraid you’d say no.”

  “I wouldn’t have.”

  “I get that now.”

  I grew more confident with his words and laid my palm on his cheek, stroking softly and watching him lean into my touch. He stared at me again.

  “You didn’t really injure yourself again, did you?”

  I drew in a shaky breath. “No.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want this to hurt.”

  And he finally, finally, bent down and pressed his mouth to mine. My hands fisted in his polo, and he held my face reverently at first before winding one hand through my hair. I felt his fingers shake as they tangled in the messy waves.

  I was done feeling unworthy. It was blatantly obvious, even to my clouded mind, he wanted me, and I wasn’t going to question it anymore. I opened my lips in invitation, one which he accepted immediately. My newfound confidence wondered if he could possibly be as shaken by our chemistry as I was.

  His mouth trailed down my neck to my collarbone, finally settling on my previously bad shoulder, the very reason for our meeting. He kissed my skin there and held me fast to his body. “I just can’t get enough of you, Tasha. Fixing you was torture, and I would have found a way to keep seeing you regardless. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that before.”

  I just yanked his mouth back to mine in response, too consumed to care about those little miscommunications. It was hard to think with him using his magic massage hands to trace circles on my heated flesh.

  He kissed me again and again, fiercely, wonderfully, and slid his hands down my body, but soon stood still. “Tasha, I want to do this right. I want to take you to dinner or something, and I don’t want to screw this up by rushing.”

  He was so sincere and conflicted. I would make it easy on the poor boy. “I accept the dinner invitation, but let’s just stay here for a while.”

  He stared at me for just a second before grinning and capturing my lips with his. “Too much,” he whispered into the corner of my mouth. “I want you too much.”

  “No. Never too much,” I breathed against his lips, although he was right.

  It was too much to understand. I gave myself over to it, and I wouldn’t let go of him, even for an instant. His weight pressed me against the edge of the table. The contact was heady, every nerve sparking against its mate in him as we gazed, very directly, at each other, overcome by the strength of our connection.

  Our labored breathing mingled, and he dropped his head to my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him completely, attempting to convey even a pitifully small portion of what I felt at the moment. We stood still for a long while, calming our overworked lungs. I didn’t know how long we had been in the room, but I did know we would have to leave soon.

  If it was up to me, leaving would not mean separation. He was aware of that, and, gazing into my eyes once more, he abruptly stepped back, pulling me with him. He cradled my face in his hands, but no words came. He claimed my mouth in a kiss as passionate as our first, and I realized my previous anxiety over these feelings being one-sided was ridiculous. I had already fallen for him, and let myself freely accept that it was a mutual thing. Always necessary air interrupted us, but we barely separated.

  “Tasha,” he mumbled, and I was surprised he could say anything at all. “About that dinner?”

  “Of course, Ethan, but maybe tomorrow? I’m not sure we’re in a state to be seen in public.” I laughed a little.

  “Oh, right.” I could feel him smile against my neck where his lips were wandering. “But maybe I could cook? I mean, you have the choice between pancakes or peanut butter, but it’s food.”

  I couldn’t stop the gigantic grin from splitting my face in two. “Yeah.”

  He kissed me softly, meeting my gaze. “It’s a little hard to admit how pathetically into you I am.”

  “Will you get in trouble if we stay here longer?” I asked, mischief running through my mind.

  “No, but the lights will go out soon.” His smirk held a whole new level of sexy.

  “Good thing I’m not afraid of the dark, but before we go…”

  The feelings I had for him were almost overwhelming, but one in particular was making itself known with a vengeance.

  “Yes?” he asked after I paused for too long, hypnotized by his lips again.

  I stared at him from under my lashes, biting my lip. “I think I need some physical therapy.”

  A word about the author...

  Aysel Quinn is a writer of mostly quirky and sometimes spooky romances. She is the stereotypical English major/teacher who finally acted on her desire to write, and frequent references to Jane Austen or Dracula are likely to appear.

  When she is not writing (unusual), Aysel enjoys trips to Europe, Sephora, or any shoe sale she might happen to stumble upon.

  http://ayselquinn.blogspot.com

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