Page 9 of Faking it With the Player Next Door

Over the last few months, I noticed myself drawn to Taylor in more of a potential romance than as the friends we’ve been for most of our lives. I was abnormally jealous when she was dating Derek Richardson, the captain of the wrestling team, andrelieved when they broke up a few weeks before that Friday evening.

A door slamming nearby broke me from my memory, and I glanced over my shoulder towards Taylor’s and saw her sitting at the patio table on the back deck. She was sipping on a glass of lemonade and hadn’t seen me yet.

I remained perfectly still and watched as she raised her legs, setting her feet on the chair opposite her. She laid her head back and I’m sure she closed her eyes to enjoy the evening sun.

Pressing my hands on the railing harder, I felt my right arm tense up and scowled. It’s been a few days since my arm gave me too much trouble, and my eyes traveled away from Taylor down to the scar on my forearm and my elbow.

It’s been two months since my surgery, and recovery has been going well, but since I’ve returned home, I’ve been more relaxed with my exercises and physical therapy. When I worked out earlier in the day, I thought I may have overdone it, hence the soreness I felt now.

Rubbing my elbow, I turned back to Taylor, who had noticed me. Her head tilted, and she stared blankly at me. Her eyes moved to my right arm, and she frowned.

“You okay?” She asked, lowering her feet from the chair across from her.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Just a little sore.”

“You’re getting old,” she mumbled, but I still heard her.

“I’m notthatold,“ I retorted.

“How’s your recovery going?” She sipped her lemonade, then held a hand to her forehead to block the lingering sun glare.

“Been better,” I shrugged. “Not that I have anything to compare it to.”

“I’m sorry,” she winced. “I can only imagine how it’s been on you.”

“Yeah, well, I have good and bad days,” I replied.

“Is it that sore?” She stood and strolled to the edge of her back deck. “I can massage it.”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged.

“If it hurts, I can help alleviate some of the discomfort,” she offered.

“Huh? What?” I frowned.

“I am a sports medicine specialist, you know,” she smiled, and seeing her lips turn upward caused me to moan. “I can give you a massage to help loosen up the tense muscles.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you,” I walked across the deck.

“Come on over,” she waved to me. “I’ll see what I can do. I promise I won’t bite.”

I opened my mouth to reply but thought better of it. I nodded and walked to the back door.

“Where are you going?” Taylor called out. “Did I scare you away?”

“Ha!” I shouted. “Just going to get another beer. I’ll be right over.”

Opening the door, I stepped inside and smiled. Practically gliding across the floor, I opened the refrigerator, grabbed another bottle of beer and headed back outside. Instead of walking down the driveway to loop around the property, I strolled to the edge of the deck and climbed over the chain link fence into Taylor’s backyard.

“Still got it, Willis,” Taylor giggled when I landed on her side of the fence.

“Yeah, well,” I chuckled. “Climbing a four-foot fence comes naturally to me.”

“And didn’t hurt your arm?” She raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest; which drew my attention, and I almost groaned.

“Uhm…” I grimaced. “I used my good arm.”

“Yeah, the onenotholding your beer,“ she responded. “The onenotgiving you pain.“ She shook her head and walked to stand behind one of the patio chairs.

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