I just wanted her to be happy. I want her to know what it was like to be happy last week, but also not have to know the pain of past years. How do I explain this to her?
"Trust me, it's a long story," I looked into her pleading eyes, craving t...
"So, did you get hurt while playing?" The doctor asked, looking at my apparel of football boots, high socks, shorts and a t-shirt.
"Well, actually, I tripped on the sidewalk going to the car to get to the pitch" I admitted. The man smiled at my clumsiness. He felt my pinkie up and down, I flinched a little at the pain.
"It's nothing serious, just a minor sprain, and I think you'll be fine if you keep playing. I mean, you're not supposed to use your hands right?" The doctor explained. The tension inside me was released and followed by a sigh. I was glad I was still able to play. He put a brace on my pinkie and put some bandage around it, and I was good to go.
"Thank you so much, doctor," I say and Jay shakes his hand. We walk out of the room and go to a waiting area. Simon was lazily sitting in a chair, his elbow propped up on the elbow rest, his hand scrolling on his phone. He heard us coming, and he looked up from his phone and looked from my hand to my eyes. His mood lifted. I approached him and sat next to him, Jay on the other side of me.
"Do you have much more time to live?" He joked. I let out a chuckle.
"Ah yes, I do, and the doctor said I could still play, so that's good," I replied. "I wonder how Lewis is." I heard Simon mumble a 'yeah,' not trying to be too loud, as the waiting room was quiet, other than the soft music, alternate from the typical rap and pop music we're used to. I decided to go on twitter and explain what happened.
@baileyplayzfut: my clumsiness :/ no worries, just a little sprain, still able to play 🙌🏼🙌🏼
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I posted the picture and soon enough my phone blew up with 'get well soon' comments. What caught my eye were the comments what said things like 'aweee' or 'how cute'. Last time I checked a sprained pinkie wasn't cute. I clicked on one of those tweets. It was a comment on a tweet from Cal. A picture of Simon and I hugging after he gave me my bag. I was surprised.
"Did you see this?" Simon questioned, showing me the same picture. I shook my head, not wanting to see it.
"This isn't gonna go well with fangirls," I said back. I decided I would reply to his tweet.
@baileyplayzfut: @calfreezy you little bitch:(
As I sent that, I had a feeling that I just started some twitter drama. I felt a grin rise upon my lips. My mind went from focusing on my phone to Lewis walking out of a room with a doctor, a metal brace on his nose held on my medical tape.
"Minor broken nose, I don't think he'll be up to playing," the doctor said. I felt bad for Lewis; that ball must've been extraordinarily fast. Although I feel happy that that person is on my team. All three of us got up and Simon reached out his hand to the doctor.
"Thank you ma'am," Simon said in a monotone voice, shaking the doctors hand. We sorted stuff out at the front desk and then we headed out the doors to the cars.
On the way to the cars I tripped over my own foot but didn't fall, thank God.
"You just can't walk without tripping, can you!" Simon remarked. I smiled and shook my head.
"No I can't, but I'll tell you I'm amazing keepy-ups and trick-shots, maybe even better than you," I challenged.
"Oh! Are you challenging me Miss Bailey?" Simon said, his tone one of surprise and competition.
"I guess I am, Mister Simon," I shot back. We got in the cars, Lewis in the front and Jay and I in the back, Jay and Lewis seeing a competition unfolding. Simon started up the car and got out of the car garage.
"Hell yeah it's on," I faintly heard him say, keeping his eyes on the road. I grinned, knowing that he was going to get beat hard.
