Page 16 of Unwritten Rules (The Sunburnt Hearts #1)
Chapter Eight
SINNETT
I see the horde of reporters before they see me. They're lingering by the entrance to the training facility, cameras trained on my car and microphones in hand, ready to bombard me with what feels like endless questions.
Knowing there is no other way to escape them, I heave a sigh and step out of the car.
I feel all their judging gazes on me as I reach into the back seat, retrieving my gym bag.
Keeping my head down, I focus on my scuffed black and white shoes as I take long strides in their direction.
When I'm in earshot, the game of twenty-one questions begins.
“Sinnett, how is the injury?”
“When do you think you'll be back on the field?”
“We've heard reports that the quad injury is so serious that you might not see another game until round fifteen. Is that true?”
“Sinnett, what's your rehab plan?”
“Can you tell us when you'll be joining the Wolves on the field?”
“How do you think the Wolves have been performing without you?”
It's question after fucking question with these people.
If they're not asking about my injury, they're wanting to know about my dating life, which is something I prefer to keep private from the public and media.
To them, nothing is off-limits. And try as they might, I never answer their questions, no matter how much of an asshole it makes me look.
I don't need them twisting my words into a story that suits them.
Lifting my head, I keep my eyes forward as I side step them, dodging their cameras and letting their questions sink into the back of my mind.
Cool air whips at my face as the door to the building is flung open.
It closes behind me with a soft click, drowning out the relentless voices of those parasites.
The walk to the change rooms is short, and I make sure to wave at each staff member I pass. The rest of the team arrived an hour ago, ready to hit the field to practice some new plays Coach Phil wants to test out. Lucky me, I got to sleep in and arrived just in time for my session with Tatum.
My heart slams into my throat at the mere thought of her name. Of her face. And that damn vanilla and floral scent that is embedded into my skin.
I told her that I respect her father enough to not break his rule, but fuck me is it difficult.
She's been in my head since the night we first met, and I don't know why.
Every time I try to force her sweet face from my mind, it stubbornly digs its heels in the ground, refusing to go.
And then I'm left to replay our interactions over and over and over again.
Seeing her today, being so close to her, is only going to make it worse.
Tossing my gym bag onto the bench in front of my locker alcove, I roll my head from side to side, partially relieving the tension pulling at the muscles.
It's just one session. I can make it through without wanting to remind myself of how well Tatum's hips fit in the curve of my palm, or how her sweet scent is like succumbing to a sugar rush.
I find Tatum in her office, hunched over her desk as her eyes skim over a stack of paperback.
Leaning my shoulder against the door frame, I watch her for a moment.
Her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth, and her brows are slightly creased.
Jade eyes sweep across the page, oblivious to my presence.
Tapping the pen in her hand against her chin, she releases her lip and exhales a soft breath.
My fingers itch to tuck the stray pieces of hair that have fallen from the bun at her nape behind her ear.
Even in a state of concentration, when no one is supposed to be watching, she is still the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes. I can't describe the feeling that overcomes me when I gaze upon her, but I know it's far too big for me to dissect right now.
You're already failing and the session hasn't begun yet .
Clearing my throat, I watch as Tatum snaps her head up to meet mine. Biting back a smile at the soft blush sweeping across her round cheeks, I step further into the room. “I hope I'm not late.”
Tatum pushes back from the desk and stands, eyes searching my face. “N-no, you're right on time.” Clearing her throat, she gestures to the table in the centre of the room. “Have a seat while I grab your recovery schedule.”
Following her instructions, I sit on the table, my attention following her movements as she shuffles around some loose papers on the desk. “No need. I have it memorised.”
Tatum blinks at me, soft lashes fanning over her cheekbones. “You... what?”
“Todd sent it to me yesterday morning after he approved it, and since then I've memorised that plan back to front.” I shrug, running a hand over my right quad.
“I must admit, strawberry, that you do know what you’re doing because today is the first day since my injury that I'm not met with blinding pain.”
Tatum drags her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes searching my face. I keep mine passive, watching her, waiting. Her lips turn up in a half smile as she steps out from behind her desk. “Well, I guess I should take that as a compliment, right?”
“For now,” I muse, biting back a smile. “It’ll depend on how this session goes, and how well you work me.”
Tatum stops halfway across the room, blanching at my words. “ Work you? Sin, I?—”
“You have to help stretch me out, right?” I arch a brow at her, lips turned up in a smirk.
God, it’s so easy to make this woman sweat.
Tatum nods, swallowing hard. Lifting my shoulders in a shrug, I say, “Then it better be a good stretch. I’d hate to have to retract my earlier statement about the plan being great, and therefore you being the best physio I’ve come across. ”
“But you didn’t say I was the best physio you have come across,” Tatum murmurs.
I grin. “Well, yet .”
Tatum holds my gaze, her cheeks a light shade of pink. I find myself wanting to always be the cause for her blushes and the sparkle in those eyes.
Get a grip, Sin. In and out. That’s the plan .
Clearing my throat, I gesture to my quad. “Shall we get started?”
Tatum exhales a sharp breath and nods, walking toward me. Her vanilla and floral perfume floats around my head as she passes by, and I fight the urge to drink her in. It’s as sweet as her.
“So, you said you started the plan yesterday. How’d it go?”
“Great,” I tell her. “The swelling had already started to go down before bed.”
Tatum places the plan down on the table behind her, eyes skimming the page. Her shoulders are tense, and her hands are tight around the edge of the table as if she’s fighting to keep herself upright.
That makes two of us .
My knuckles are bleached where they’re wrapped around the edge of the bed. Swallowing hard, I force my eyes down to my quad, skimming over the affected area.
“That’s a good sign, Sin.” Tatum spins on her heels and gestures for me to lie on my back.
I do as I’m told, trying to keep my eyes off her face, instead focusing on the ceiling.
“If you can keep the swelling down and continue to strengthen the muscle, you’ll start seeing the results you’re after.
But it’s going to take time, and you have to be patient. ”
“Time and patience aren’t in my vocabulary,” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest. “But I hear what you’re saying.”
“Good.”
My breath hitches when Tatum’s soft, warm hands caress my right thigh, probing the tight and tender muscles in my quad. I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, fighting the urge to watch what she’s doing. To see how she’s touching me.
“Now, shall we get started on that stretching you so delicately reminded me of?” The teasing in Tatum’s voice has me smiling like a fool.
“With pleasure, strawberry.”
I hate that I miss her touch the second she steps away.
Tatum gestures to the yoga mat laid out on the floor beside the bed. “We’re going to start with a pre-contraction stretch. It’ll help relax the muscles and increase muscle tone.”
Nodding, I hop off the table and lie on my back outstretched in front of me.
My heart slams into my chest. I talked a big game when I was teasing her about working me out while stretching.
Now that I’m faced with the prospect of having her hands on me and her body so close, knowing I can’t touch her in return, is going to be torture.
Tatum kneels beside me, her eyes on my leg rather than my face.
“Okay, bend both of your legs so your feet are flat on the floor.” When I’m in position, she turns her body so that she’s kneeling in front of my right leg, her hands flexing at her sides.
“Now, extend your leg and rest your calf on my shoulder.”
Fuck me. Now I’m the one blushing.
With my leg resting firmly against her shoulder, her right hand comes up to hold the heel of my shoe, while the other snakes around to splay out over my right thigh. Heat sizzles beneath her hand, seeping into my skin. My jaw clenches, and hands flex at my sides.
How can a simple touch from her send my heart into overdrive?
Clearing my throat, I watch as Tatum leans forward slightly, putting pressure on my leg, and in turn stretching the tight muscle.
I hiss out a breath at the ebb of pain that shoots across my thigh.
I know this is what needs to happen for me to get through this recovery, but fuck me does it hurt like a bitch.
“How’s this feel?” Tatum asks, her voice soft and gentle.
Fucking painful. “Yeah, good. I can feel the pull.”
“Try to relax, okay?”
Nodding, I exhale sharply and blink at the ceiling.
The air between us is thick. It wraps around my chest, squeezing painfully and weighing heavily on my limbs. Needing to cut it, even if just to hear Tatum’s voice to distract me, I utter, “Feels kind of weird that we’ve switched positions.”