short crush / love stories

It Gets Physical in Physical Therapy

Owen§Riley
POV: Owen
Tearing your ACL in football sucked, especially when you had offers lined up at your door to play D1 Football.
I could remember the day like it was yesterday. I could hear the fans cheering for us in the background. We were 2nd in the standings and versing a shitty 18th seed team. It was 21-0, and we were winning. Second half. 9 minutes and 13 seconds to go. Connor Lehotsky-our quarterback- throws a lateral pass to me and I ran. I was the best running back in the state. I could beat and juke absolutely anyone.
But I totally underestimated my juking skills and one second I was down, throbbing in pain. I was pulled out of the game and sat on the bench watching my teammates scream in triumph as they won their first playoff game.
We even made it to State. I was a little bit disappointed, but I knew I had to get my leg checked.
I was limping and cheering for my brothers, the people who made my football experience more enjoyable.
We got an X-ray and the doctor said I was fine, however I needed a MRI to check my ligaments. It was then the doctor could notably see the enormous tear in my ACL.
I was stressed out, especially for college football and how I was going to be at a setback. My buddy Krasi had an ACL tear and I could only recollect the pain he suffered and how long the recovery time was.
My mom tried to get the best help and surgeon because she knew I was going to keep playing sports.  And because of that I'm here in Athletico in Knox, one of the best in the state, working on my knee.
I was post 4 months op so I knew the drill. The receptionist directed me to get on the bike. As I got on the bike, she put a timer—10 minutes—and then sat back in her seat.
I, on the other hand, was pushing and pushing. I could feel my insides rumble and sweat tremble down my face. It's the things I had to do for football. I was listening to Kanye West when a finger pressed against my shoulder blade. I take out my headphones.
"Owen you can go on this table," my physical therapist, Carlos tells me.
I jump up on the plopped table supported with tons of cushion. I try to close my eyes, but I'm alerted by Carlos, who's massaging my knee where the white incision lays. It was extremely weird but I told myself he was my therapist—nothing else.
"I have a new ACL patient today, at 5:30," he says.
I didn't say anything. It's assumed through therapy that you don't ask about other patients, and the therapist is not able to talk about who they were and etc. This type of precedent was established in a law called HIPPA. Just general privacy.
"Her mom wanted somebody to give her a little push," he pauses, "to help her."
I didn't understand where he was going at.
"I was thinking of you." He continues to massages my knee. "Would you be up for it?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"She's kinda a shy girl," he adds, "and hasn't gotten through anything injury wise this traumatic."
"You would have to stay a little later."
"How old is she?"
It was then, the bell rang—it was for when a new patient came in—and a squeamish girl who was tiny walked in. Her hair was curly brown, medium length. She was really pretty, but she seemed shaken and scared for no reason whatsoever. This was just Athletico, not a HighSchool party.
"Um sure.," I say hesitantly.
She sits there, silently and I see her noticeable brace on her right leg, indicating she had surgery. Her green eyes locked with my brown-chocolate like ones but finally she broke the stare. Looking down, like she was disappointed her legs tremble.
The rehab assistant goes up to Carlos.
"She's here."
"Tell her to come over here," he says.
A small girl and her mother trout over to the beds. Carlos makes her take the bed next to mine. I give her an awkward smile, I knew how intimidating I could be. I was 6'4, looked like I was 22 and probably about 2 times this girls weight. On the other hand, she looked like a normal 16 year old girl but was on a little bit on the short side.
I took in her beautiful features, her eyelashes, small amount of makeup, and fine wavy/curly hair that did suit her and all of a sudden I felt self conscious about the stubble growing on my face.
By first glance, it was hard for me to get crazy about a girl. Girls would just make fun of my noticeable height and weight. I was 240. Some of muscle, some of fat that I didn't want to admit. But that was besides the point I knew first glance I was going to scare the shit out of her.
Her mother was a little bit taller than her but looked exactly alike. She was a beautiful brown haired woman, who seemed to love to get her hair done a lot.
"Riley and Riley's mom," Carlos smiles, "This is Owen. He is 4 months post op and is one of my most dedicated athletes. He knows the struggles and all about ACL tears,"
Before Riley can greet me, her mom greets me first. She gives me a handshake and I shake back firmly. Next, is Riley, who is shaking tremendously. This time I give her a soft smile. But that sure as hell didn't do anything and her beautiful face turned around and she plopped her head on the bed.
—
PT is pretty much close to over. Riley's exercises are done, as I try to motivate her and help her. I know we barely knew each other but we exchanged details about herself.
For example, Riley was actually a basketball player with an incredible 4.2 gpa. However, she barely talked much, it was like picking at stones.
Riley finished her last exercise.
I smiled and said, "Nice work, you did great for your first day." I tell her while she's walking on her brace and crutches in her hand.
She looks at me and says, "Can you drive? My mom would only pick me up late. I'm so sorry for asking. I feel like-"
"No worries. I got you."
She follows me to my car and stumbled a little but I caught her. We both stare at each other for a little bit.
To break the awkwardness, I open the door for her in the front passenger seat and help her get up onto my car. I put her crutches in the trunk and drive.
"You are going to head straight a few miles," she says.
It's pretty much silent besides her giving directions. But suddenly she talks about something else.
"I know I don't know you yet. But nobody wants to give me advice."
"What's it about Riley? I know you don't need my help to figure it out—"
"It's a guy."
My stomach starts to turn. I didn't really know her to like her, but I assumed she would already have a caring boyfriend. But it probably could never be some weirdo from therapy.
"I'll try my best."
"He's leaving me on read and being dry. And then at school he ignores I exist!"
I shake. I still have my eyes on the road. I didn't know what to say. But I knew I didn't like her.
"Riley, forget about him."
"But the guys I—"
"Riley."
"You know I've never had anyone serious."
"So what?"
"I'm not gonna get a guy."
My ears droop. No they fucking don't. I don't care. I barely knew her. It didn't matter.
"Omg he texted back! Finally," she starts to smile.
I stare off in the distance for a second, but I realize I have to keep my eyes on the road. I was noticing that I was getting too attached quickly, without even knowing her. I was calming down myself, until she grabbed my arm softly. My insides trembled and I started liking the feeling.
"Its left, I'm sorry I forgot to tell you," she says, "and you kinda zoned out there."
"No I'm sorry," I am focused on the road. "Listen, I hope all goes well. But look at the red flags, okay, be careful."
"Thanks Owen." she smiles, "Oh and my house is up here, you can just drop me off here."
I stop the car and she says goodbye. I wait until she walks into her house before pulling out. I needed to stop this crush I have on her.