Page 3 of Hot for the Lifeguard
"Needed to get out of my head," I reply keeping my attention on the hoop, getting my stance ready to shoot again.
"Don't you dare," he says his tone sharp, but I ignore it and release the ball.
We both watch as it drops into the hoop. Spinning back to him, I grin. "See? I'm fine."
"You might be making your shots, but you’re overcompensating," he states.
"What do you mean?" I ask, pulling my brows into each other. My stance doesn't feel different. What could he be talking about? I guess the coach I was working with did say that I was looking funny.
"You put more pressure on your left instead of balancing your weight out between your feet, especially when you move around on the court. Also, you make a face every time you move," he tells me.
"I do not make a face," I sass placing my hands on my hips.
Damn, I thought I was hiding the pain. Maybe, I was wrong.
"Yes, you do."
"Whatever," I say spinning around, not wanting to talk about my back any longer. Even if I'm making a face, it'smybody and I know what I can handle.
I pick up another ball from the rack and shoot another.
But Rocky doesn't get the hint because he keeps going. "If you keep doing things--even simple tasks--that pull on the muscles in your back, it can cause things to get worse."
"I get it. I get it," I mumble but continue to shoot ball after ball.
What Rocky doesn't seem to realize in his young mind, is that it's not that easy. Not being able to play basketball is like telling me I can't breathe. But then that small voice whispers in the back of mind, bringing up the idea that I could use this to retire and start a family.
"It doesn't seem like you do," he says, causing me to roll my eyes at him.
"You need to stay in your lane, Rocky. I'll figure out what I'm going to do once I get the results," I tell him.
"I'm here because the medical team wants to speak with you," he says and I listen to his footsteps fade.
I should be walking back with him, but I can't seem to make my feet move. My heart rate picks up. I'm so close to finding out what all this could mean, and it could lead me to my next path.
"Time to face the music," I mutter to myself as I walk back to the office. "Knock, knock," I say while simultaneously tapping on the door.
"Come in," Dr. Love calls from behind the door.
I take a deep breath and push the door open. I'm surprised when I just see the doctor sitting in the office instead of the whole team. Oh shit, this can't be good.
"Have a seat, Diana," she says, motioning to the chair opposite her desk. "Nice to see you. How are you feeling?"
"Good. I just did some shooting and feel a little stiff and sore, but good," I tell her, hoping that my explanation would help ease any thoughts she might have about my ability to play.
"That's good. So, I still don't have your results in hand, but after talking with a doctor from the hospital, we feel it would be best if you took some time off from the game."
"What do you mean?" I ask not able to process what she's telling me at the moment.
"I suggest that you rest and don't do any strenuous activity for a week. When the week is over, we’ll take another look." She explains to me.
"What do you think is wrong?"
"I think it's just a strained back, but I don't want to press it."
"I'm not sure I need to rest that long—" I begin to murmur, but she places a hand up, stopping me.
"You might feel like you’re fine and that you can work through this, but your body is telling you to slow down."
