Chapter 3 - Max
A can of beer hits me in the chest before I even know it’s coming. I catch it as it tumbles down my stomach, looking up to see who threw it.
“What’s up with you, Max?” Joel cocks his head to the side. “Bad day at work?”
Monday Night Football is blaring on Joel’s TV, and he sits down in his plushy recliner as he waits for me to answer. I shift on the couch, the leather creaking underneath me. I shrug as I stare at the can of beer in my hands.
“Gonna be a long week, I guess.”
Joel grunts in acknowledgement. He brushes a strand of sandy blonde hair off his forehead and tips his beer back. When he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, he stares at me with those sharp, pale brown eyes of his and I try not to shift in my seat.
I haven’t been thinking about work at all—I’ve been thinking about her. About Naomi. About the way her hands had been all over my legs, and the way her skin had glowed, even under the stark fluorescent lights of her office. I’d been thinking about the tremor that had passed through my chest when she smiled at me. It was right when I squatted down without pain for the first time in years.
I jump when Joel speaks again, and I know the reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed. As boisterous as Joel can be, he can read me like a book.
“How was your physio appointment? You look like you’re doing really well since you changed physical therapists. You’re not complaining about your fucking knee every five minutes anymore.”
I’m going to choose to ignore that.
“It was good,” I answer, keeping my eyes glued on the TV. I can feel Joel’s stare, and I know my best friend can tell there was more to the appointment than it just being ‘good’.
But right now, as I sit down for our regular Monday hang-out, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to explain that I had the hots for my physical therapist. I don’t want to laugh along to his jokes and brush off my attraction to her.
I make the mistake of glancing at my best friend. I see the gleam in his eyes as he arches his eyebrow. He cracks open a new beer and takes a sip, never taking his eyes off me. I chuckle, shaking my head.
I know an inquisition is coming.
I’ll have to field his questions and pretend like I didn’t get turned on today. I’ll have to pretend like Naomi is no one, like I haven’t been thinking about her all day.
Joel opens his mouth, and I know the barrage of questions is coming.
I’m saved by a knock on the door. Our friends, Graham and Connor, come tumbling through the door.
“Yo!” Graham calls out, marching towards us.
“What’s up?” Joel responds.
I grunt, cracking open the beer that Joel threw at me. It sprays out, fizzing and bubbling all over me as soon as I crack it open. I’m greeted by a chorus of laughs. I glance at Joel.
“You dickhead,” I grin.
He throws his hands up. “What! I didn’t do anything.”
Connor chortles and slaps me on the shoulder, dropping down to sit next to me on the couch. “Never trust a beer that Joel gets for you. Didn’t you learn anything in college?”
“Apparently not,” I laugh.
Graham drops a bag of chips on the coffee table, and my shoulders relax. Amid the comfortable conversation, the ribbing and joking, the easy friendship between the four of us, I forget about my day. I forget about how completely off-balance I felt earlier, and how my mind keeps circling back to my appointment.
The conversation turns to football.
“I keep telling myself that the Giants should lose to get a high draft pick, but then they go and play like this today and I can’t help but feel great,” Joel says, shaking his head.
“Losing never feels good,” I respond, sipping my beer. My shirt is still soaked with the spray, but I don’t really care. “I remember the day we lost the championship in college. Losing was almost worse than busting up my knee.”
Silence hangs between us as we all take a sip.
Finally, Graham grunts. “That was fucking tough, man.” He runs a hand through his black hair and purses his lips as he stares at me.
“Yeah.”
Joel glances over at me. He lifts a finger to point at me. “You know, that’s the first time in four years I’ve heard you talk about your injury without being asked.”
I straighten my leg out in front of me, massaging my quad muscle and staring at my knee. I shrug.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Connor says. “Usually whenever anyone mentions it you go all quiet.”
“Huh,” I respond, not knowing what else to say. They’re right, obviously. I never talk about my knee, and I never talk about that day on the football field when my life changed forever.
“It’s gotta be a girl,” Graham says, grinning. “Who is she?”
“What?” I say, frowning. “No!”
Joel laughs, grabbing a chip from the bag on the table. “I fucking knew it!” He crunches down on the chip and then brushes his fingers across his shirt to wipe the orange dust from them. He shakes his head, laughing. “Fucking finally.”
“What do you mean, finally?!” I protest.
“You haven’t really liked any women since… you know,” Connor answers, wiggling his eyebrows. His brown eyes are shining as he opens them wide. “Since she who shall not be named was around.”
“Who, Farrah? I’ve been with girls since her!” I avoid their stares, choosing instead to sip my beer. It’s true! I’ve been with lots of women since my ex left me after I got injured. “I was fucking engaged!”
“Yeah, but you haven’t actually liked any of them. Even Heather,” Graham laughs. “Best decision you ever made, not to marry her. I’m not even sure you really liked her.”
I grunt, remembering the torturous months leading up to my failed engagement.
Connor nudges me. “Come on, who is she?”
I glance at the four of them, trying to keep my face steady.
“I don’t know what any of you are talking about. There’s no one.”
A grin spreads over Joel’s face. He leans forward, a strand of blonde hair falling across his forehead. He shakes his head slowly from side to side.
“It’s your physio, isn’t it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I knew it!” He laughs triumphantly, turning to Connor and Graham. “He was acting all weird earlier, but it wasn’t until you said it was a girl that it all made sense. Is that why you’ve been making such good progress with your knee lately?”
“Shut up, Joel,” I grumble as I feel three sets of eyes boring into me.
“She hot?” Connor asks.
“She’s gotta be, you know how Max is,” Graham responds with a laugh. “He only goes for perfect tens. You got a picture of her?”
“My ankle is kind of sore, maybe I should make an appointment,” Joel laughs.
“God, shut the fuck up you guys. I’m not seeing her! I don’t even know her!”
“So you’ve just got a little crush on your physio but you’re too shy to ask her out? That’s cute,” Graham grins.
“Game’s back on,” I grunt in relief, and the four of us turn back to the TV.
I drain the rest of my beer and crush the can in my hand. My mind reels. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. My heart is racing and I’m vaguely mad at my friends, but I also know they’re right. I do have a crush on her. I mean, she’s an attractive woman—how could I not notice that?
Maybe it’s the fact that she’s making my knee feel better that draws me to her. She’s making me feel like the old ‘me’. She’s giving me my life back. A life without pain and creaky knees. A life where maybe, I’ll be able to play football again.