The Student Therapist

Chapter 6

I checked my phone screen again, seeing the bold 9:15 am displayed across the top of the screen. I huffed in annoyance, crossing my arms over my chest. With narrowed eyes, I scanned the locker room for the umpteenth time but I was still in here alone. The only noise in the room being my occasional sigh every time another minutess passes.

I glanced at the stack of papers sitting on the bench with the list of stretches and workouts I had spent all night researching and had half a mind to throw them out and leave. If Lisa wasn't going to bother showing up to physical therapy, then I wasn't going to bother putting effort into her recovery.

My angry thoughts were cut off by the sound of a large door slamming shut from the back of the locker room, followed by a string of muttered curses. I knew immediately it was Lisa. I turned around in time to see her walk into the main area of the locker room with the assistance of her crutches, her head down watching where she was going.

"Nice of you to finally show up." I greet bitterly, my arms still crossed against my chest.

Lisa looks up with bags under her eyes, which looked red from sleep or lack thereof and her brown locks were disheveled. "I left my dorm at eight thirty, alright? A person only go so fast on crutches."

Still suspicious, I questioned hesitantly.

"Really?"

She give me a blank look. "Do you want to try walking all the way here in crutches, because I can assure you it takes some time—"

"No." I interrupt with a light laugh. "I mean, did you really leave at eight thirty?"

Lisa nods vigorously. "Well, duh. I didn't want to piss you off on the first day of PT or else you would've intentionally made my MCL worse."

I roll my eyes at her but nonetheless, I feel my previous annoyance and anger fade away. She was actually putting in an effort to get here on time, even after I chose the morning for our sessions just to piss her off. With a slight nod, I gesture to the ground where I had cleared the benches to give us full access to the ground.

"Sit down." I order and then walk over to grab the list of stretches. "By the way, you don't need to keep using the crutches as long as you have a knee brace."

She sits on the ground and groans dramatically. "Seriously? You couldn't have told me that yesterday?"

I sit down across from her and place the papers beside me. Her legs were outstretched and she was leaning back on one hand, the other running though her hair. Something I knew she did when she was stressed or nervous. I inwardly cringed when I realized I could recognize some of her habits. I was around Lisa and the other girls way too much.

"It was a good idea to keep off you knee for the first day or two." I tell her and then raise my eyebrows. "Relax, Lisa."

I could see her tense shoulders remain stiff and she narrowed her eyes at me and questions snappily. "Why are you telling me to relax? You relax."

I roll my eyes again. "I can tell that you're tense. Are you scared?"

"Scared you're going to fuck my knee, maybe." Lisa mutters under her breath and then runs her hand through her bangs again.

I take a deep breath and looked at her square in the eyes, waiting for her to meet my gaze before I spoke. "Listen, Lisa. I understand how important football is to you. Even though we don't always see eye to eye."

That's understatement.

"I would never intentionally set back your recovery process, arasso? You don't have to worry about that."