I got to the front of his frat house and my eyes went wide. Evan was sitting on a bench outside.
What the hell did he not understand about bed rest?
If he was planning on being that kind of patient, my job would be twice as hard.
I passed the house to find a parking spot up the street and walked back to give him hell. He hadn't seen me, so I got a few extra seconds to check him out. This guy had the profile of a Roman god, and the dark hair and olive skin to match. Jesus Jones, if I kept up this line of thinking it was going to be the end of me.
I folded my arms when I got closer. "What are you doing, Evan?"
He looked up at me from his spot on the bench. "Oh, it's you. I'm just resting."
"Does this look like a bed?"
"I can't lie around all day like that."
"Well, you'll have to for the next five days if you want to start the rehab exercises. Or do you want to re-injure yourself when we do get to that point?"
"Don't give me a hard time, all right?"
"The way I see it, you're making it difficult for the both of us. Is anyone around to help you inside?"
He shook his head. "All my buddies are in class right now."
"Come on. I'll help." I leaned over for him to throw his arm over my shoulder. "Let's get you back to bed … even if I throw my back out in the process."
He grabbed his crutches and got them in position. "Save your back. I'll manage."
"Stop. You can't do that, don't you get it? Any weight you put on your hips or legs can make the strain worse."
"I did manage to get myself into that meeting this morning, you know."
"Yes. We all know you have an ego the size of Mount Rushmore and you want to prove to yourself that you can do it. You can, Evan, but if you overdo it before you even start the physical therapy, you may as well kiss your NFL chances goodbye." He narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips into a scowl. "Good. Now that I have your attention, let me help you inside."
He cocked his head, still grimacing. "Dammit. All right."
He placed an arm over my shoulder and I slowly supported his solid weight. I had to will my knees to not go weak from being this close to him, and to ignore those little electric impulses shooting through my body. I had to fight my own thoughts of what it was like to be with him, to understand what made him tick and maybe see these famous lady-killer skills of his in action. What an inconvenient time for my hormones to kick in and remind me what they were meant for.
Thank goodness the steps to the porch were less than ten feet away. After we got inside and he was settled yet again, I found a chair in the living room. I dragged it beside his bed to finish what we'd started earlier.
"Maybe we got off to a bad start," Evan offered when I took a seat.
I flipped through his file to the approved recovery plan. "I'd say."
"How about a truce?"
"It depends." I looked up from my file, already doubtful that was possible.
"On what?"
"On whether I'm gonna find you anywhere but in this bed the next time I show up here, for starters. While I'm at it, it also depends on whether you plan to be rude and stubborn for any other phase of this plan."
"I can do the bed rest but I ain't apologizing for how I am. So I'm rude … and a bit stubborn. I'm also in a hell of a lot of pain from these crappy meds. Plus you people want me lying in bed staring at the ceiling and dwelling on that pain for five days straight. I have to live with that, so I guess you'll have to deal with me being in a shitty mood."
"And a dick."
"Pardon me?"
"You heard me."
"Fine. I'm a dick. Live with it."
"Forget about the truce too, right?"
"Whatever. Now, what else are we supposed to talk about today?"
This situation wasn't going to improve. I needed to face the facts and simply focus on the work. I shook my head, pulling put a copy of the plan for him to read along. "Let's just review the damn plan and I'll get out of your hair."
"Fine," he grunted, snatching the document out of my hand.
I took an emotional timeout. He was an ass, but he was right that I was the professional in the room. He owed me nothing. I was here to get a job done. Taking a long breath to find my center, I observed him as he read. That when it dawned on me. Resting the file at the side of my chair, I got up and pressed my hands into the mattress at the foot end of the bed.
"What are you up to now?" he asked, putting the papers down beside him.
"Think about before your injury when you'd wake up in the morning. Did you have any aches and pain?"
"Uh, I'm not sure. Maybe. Why?"
"How old is this mattress?"
"Two or three years."
"What about your pillows. Pass me one."
"Why?"
"You need the right support to be able to stay in bed for most of the day."
He picked up the one beside him and gave it to me, smirking. "Just don't let this turn into a slumber party. I draw the line at pillow fights."
"Trust me. You have nothing to worry about."
"Yeah, I figured that … as I'm a guy and all."
"I'll stop by the center and bring back some PT wedges and bolsters we usually loan out to athletes on the injured list. They should help."
"Okay. So … tell me about this baseball thing."
I gave him back the pillow and took a seat again. "What baseball thing?"
"What made you choose baseball and rule out all the other professional sports?"
"That's a pretty personal question, wouldn't you say?"
"Do you have a boyfriend who's a super fan or something? Or maybe a girlfriend?"
I stiffened. It was always guys like Evan who had to go there when a woman didn't jump at the chance to hop into bed with them.
"That's none of your business."
He smiled. "I'm right, aren't I? What's her name? Maybe I know her."
I ignored the question. "I'll also check the medication dosage with Dr. Burton."
"I have nothing against lesbians, Samantha. Actually I like them, especially in threesomes."
I crossed my legs in the chair. Any kind of movement would help me not respond to him. "I'll ask for a meds review, and I'll pop by later with the positioning wedges and bolsters. You can keep this copy of the physical therapy plan. Let's see. What else? Right, I need to get you a few more compression wraps. You're wearing one now, right?"
"Yes. I am."
"Good. Just remember they need to come off while you're applying ice to the area."
"I know that, but you don't have to get defensive about your sexual orientation. I don't care if you bat for the other team."
I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth. We were this close to butting heads again. He pushed my buttons like he was born for it.
"I think that's it," I said, closing the file. "When I'm back tomorrow, we'll cover the next phase of the plan. We're done here." I got up and took the chair with me. "Have a good day, Evan."
I drew myself up to my full height, turned on my heel, and stalked off. I didn't wait for him to get in another word. That chair was back in the living room and I was in my car again in record time. I got the items I promised him from the athletic training center and took it back to his place. Tre was going inside when I drove up to the front of the house, so I gave it to him, got back in my car, and sped home to my dorm like a bat out of hell.
Where was Kristy when I needed her? I was emotionally drained, like I could go to sleep and stay that way for days if I didn't talk this out with someone. I was disappointed in myself too, for letting him get a rise out of me like that. I should have expected him to keep being an ass. I punched a pillow, wishing it was his perfect face.
My phone rang while I was sprawled out on my bed, still angry as hell. The number on the ID listed as Unknown. It could have been my mother. Some of the phone lines over at her hospital were automatically set to block for some reason or another.
I wasn't sure I wanted to hear a thing about Dad. I was miserable enough with my own problems. Sparing some of my energy to get the usual updates from home would be a major feat.
Still, I picked it up. "Hello?"
"Samantha. Hey."
I knew right away it was Evan. Why the hell was he calling me? My heart leapt before I could stop it. "Evan? Did something happen? How did you get my number?"
"No, I'm fine. Still in bed. Your number's on the contact form in the recovery plan."
"It's there for emergencies. Is this something urgent, Evan?"
"No. I'm good."
"Why are you calling me? It wasn't enough for you to take up our consultation time with your … name-calling. Now you have to eat into my personal time too?"
"Look. That's why I'm calling. I'm sorry, all right? I may have taken the whole lesbian thing a little too far."