Page 42 of Revive Me

“Well, um…hopefully, that helped,” she rambles, still not meeting my eyes. “I can suggest a great massage therapist if you’d like to stay on top of those knots; she’ll get you fixed up in no time…”

I frown, still lost about what just happened. Is a massage considered inappropriate? She just said she had to take a class?—

It isn’t until I glance down at my lap that I realize what happened.

And everything in me goes cold.

My dick is hard. And it’s not like anoh whoops, I saw a pretty girl and got a chuberection, it’shard. Like aI popped three Viagras, and I’ve never been hardererection. And with the basketball shorts I’m wearing, there’s no hiding it.

My cheeks heat, the embarrassment so thick it feels like tar as I try to take a breath. A buzzing starts in my head. I don’t know what to say. How to react. What todo.

Logically, I know Lily is a professional. She’s entirely aware of the things that can happen with this type of injury, and she’d handle it appropriately, regardless of if I wanted to ignore it or talk about it. Medically, there’s nothing I should be embarrassed about.

Realistically, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

My skin flaming hotter and hotter, I look in the opposite direction of Lily, searching for anything I can throw over my lap and attempt to hide my shame. But there’s nothing. I don’t even have the sweatshirt I came in here with since it’s back on the treatment table.

One more second of indecision, another of sheer humiliation, and then I give up. I can’t deal with this. Turning my wheelchair, I start toward the exit.

“Roman, no, wait?—”

I ignore Lily’s plea and simply leave the gym.

* * *

It takes my mom two unanswered questions to figure out that something’s happened and I need to be left alone. She doesn’t even ask me if I need help getting into the house like she normally does; she just gives me a sad smile as she gets out of the van.

I don’t know why I rush into my house, because the second I’m in my kitchen, I’m at a complete loss with what to do with myself. Do I go to my home gym and workout until I pass out from exhaustion? Do I drink myself into a blackout? What’s the quickest way to get me to unconsciousness so I don’t need to think about what thefuckjust happened?

It's been a long time since I’ve had an uncontrollable erection. I mostly figured it had to do with nothing turning me on mentally anymore. Some SCI patients get them from physical stimulation but don’t feel pleasure from it, and some feel pleasure but need physical help to get it up. I thought I was one of the lucky ones who eventually gained enough sensation to have the best of both worlds—just with no one to experience it with. I neverdreamedit would happen with Lily.

Godfuckingdamnit, does she think I ran out of there because I was shocked to spring a boner? I’m sure my mortification was obvious, but if she thinks my dick doesn’t work, I’m never fucking going back there again. A man can only take so many hits to the ego.

Looking down at my lap, I glare at my now-soft dick.Fucking useless.

I wrap a hand around it through my shorts, giving it one angry tug.Nothing.

But then I mentally drift back to the moment before everything went wrong: the one where I was watching Lily massage my arms. It makes sense that the sight of her hands triggered what it did, what with the sight and feel of them. It doesn’t take a big mental leap to picture them wrapped around my cock.

Instantly, I harden in my grip. A wave of pleasure nearly bowls me over at the thought of Lily using both hands on me, of her twisting and tugging and sliding them up and down my length.Fuck, I bet she’d feel good. Better than good. And if her hands are that good, I can’t even imagine how great she’d feel if?—

I yank back my hand with a snarl of disgust. I’m kidding myself if I think that would ever happen. She’s young, and pretty, and has everything going for her. She deserves to have a guy who has everything going forhim. Even if it’s just the bedroom, she should have someone who can fuck her properly, not just lie there on his back like a useless sex doll. Even jerking off to the thought of it is a joke.

With frustration mounting in my chest, I grab my cigarettes off the kitchen counter and hope the smoke can drown out my self-hatred.

15

LILIANA

Grad school doesn’t prepare you for patients like Roman Ward.

I knew there were going to bumps in the road of his recovery. I may not have guessed that they would bethiskind of bump, but the fact that his body reacted during a massage isn’t really a big surprise. It’s a common occurrence with SCI patients, both with the unexpected nature of it and the potential lack of sensation that lets them know it’s happening.

The bumps in the road aren’t the issue. It’s Roman’s reaction to them that I’m worried about.

Case in point…it’s been a week since I’ve seen him.

And I’ve been stressed the whole time. Even my brothers noticed something was off when I showed up to family dinner last weekend. I almost called Roman that night, too worried to go another day without checking on him, but…I couldn’t. Ethically, I probably could have, just as a simple check-in on a patient, but that’s not why I’d be calling. And on top of that, I wanted to give Roman a chance to solve things on his own. To come back to physical therapy because he wants to.

---