![]() ![]() This is so not good, I don’t even know what to do myself. I put back my Velcro but underneath the brace, I feel like he’s just doused my skin with gasoline, and it will burst up in flames any second he touches me again. ![]() ![]() He holds my gaze as his thumb lightly strokes across my knee, then we both glance at his touch, as though equally stunned to realize how easy it was for him to leave it there while we had an entire conversation-and for me to allow it. You’d understand, right?” I ask, quietly, as he lowers my leg back down. I haven’t talked about this openly with anyone. Otherwise I don’t know what I would have done.” “It hurts not to compete anymore?” He looks at me with complete openness and interest, and I don’t know why I’m even answering. “I guess I’m glad that by my second, I’d already started my masters for rehab. I just don’t think I’ve ever really recovered.” “How long ago was this?” “Six years ago.” I hesitate, then add, “And two…the second time it happened.” “Ahh, a double injury. “I’ve been running without a brace, and I know I shouldn’t yet. “It still hurts?” I nod, but still can only really think about his large, dry hand. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |