CHAPTER 6
casey
H arrison’s hands are magic. Actual magic gifted from the gods in heaven. I am not even joking, nor am I ashamed of the sounds I am making as he works those magical fingers into my sore muscles. I think I could die a happy man lying here on this treatment bed with Harry working me over like this.
“Oh yes, right there, Harry,” I whimper as he digs into my adductor muscle.
“Geez, Casey, no need to make it sound so sexual,” Harrison mutters. I open my eyes with a snort, zoning in on the soft line of pink dotting his cheeks.
“Seriously, Harry, with hands like yours I’m not entirely sure it isn't sexual.”
He lets out a long sigh which is tempered by his reluctant laugh. “Way to make my profession sound dirty.”
“Hey, I roll around in the mud with a bunch of sweaty guys every day.”
“True,” he replies, working my adductor just bordering this side of pain. I moan again and he sighs.
“I just can’t with you sometimes, Case.”
“Oooh, did you just nickname me?” I respond, instantly delighted. “Say it again.”
“No.”
“ Please ?” I beg. “Say it or I’ll keep talking dirty to you.”
“Fine, Case ,” he huffs dramatically. But I know better by now. I know Harrison, and I know he secretly likes my teasing. Well, I hope he does and I’m not just totally misreading our little friendly banter thing we've got going on.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I grin. He responds by knuckling my groin in a way that is borderline indecent, and I whimper again. “At least take me out to dinner first, man.”
“You are impossible,” he sighs.
“Well, I did just have an ice bath. I’m not at my best.”
He moves away from my groin area to focus on my calf muscles, but I don’t miss his little smile that he’s trying to keep hidden from me. See? I knew we were on the up and up with each other.
I don’t love the Deep Heat gel that always accompanies my treatments, but Harrison’s magic hands certainly help as he gently massages the gel into my muscles with those soft, rhythmic strokes.
I feel myself drifting away—just the gentle breathing sounds made by the two of us and Harrison’s magic hands—when we’re rudely interrupted by the loud entrance of Dean Hampton.
“You almost finished up in here?” he asks, abruptly waking me out of my zone.
“Give me five more minutes for some stretching and he’s all yours,” Harrison replies.
I whimper again. “Haven’t you inflicted enough pain on me for one day?”
“Oh darling,” Harrison tuts. “We’re just getting started.”
Dean chortles a laugh as he steps towards the door. “Send him into the weights room when you’re done.”
“Will do. Can you keep him off his legs today?”
“Sure thing,” Dean responds as the door closes behind him.
“Save me, Harry,” I whisper, staring up at him imploringly. “I’m not ready for arms day.” He just grins at me before reaching for my hand and hauling me up to a sitting position.
“Where’s that killer instinct I’ve heard so much about?”
“Oh he’s still in there. Just buried deep inside by your magic hands. I want to do more of that type of treatment.”
Harrison laughs softly. “That type of treatment won’t do much for those abs.”
“Abs are overrated.”
“Well, speaking as someone who’s never had them, I’d have to disagree.”
“You have abs, Harry,” I disagree, reaching out to pat his stomach. He stiffens and I pull my hand away. I’ve always been overly tactile with my friends, but I forget that not everyone else welcomes touch so freely. “Everyone has abdominal muscles.”
“I know, sweet. I’m the physio here remember?” he eyerolls. “And I think you know exactly what I meant.”
“Oh, you mean abs like these?” I nod along, hauling up my top to show off my defined set of abdominals I am admittedly quite proud of.
His eyes immediately zone in on them and I feel myself squirm before I drop my top.
He doesn’t reply, just focuses on pushing my leg up to my chest in a gentle stretch and I drop the subject.
I know I treat Harrison like we’ve been friends forever, but I really don’t know where to draw the line with teasing. I know I overstep, always have done really, but I know I need to find where those lines are for him. And try not to push over them too hard.
***
My gentle introduction to the East Coast Fever is officially over as Dean Hampton leaves me but a fraction of the man he found me when I entered his zone. My arms ache all over and I think my abs have started growing their own set of muscles.
I groan as I push my way through to the treatment room where I find Harrison working on Izak.
They are laughing together about something while Harry works his magic hands on Izak’s calf muscle, and I try not to sound all territorial when I clear my throat.
I mean, I don’t own Harrison but still, he’s here at the club for me, not Izak.
“How was arms session?” Harrison asks, curls buzzing his eyes as he looks up at me.
“Great. I’m feeling awesome,” I lie. Izak shares a knowing smirk with me but I ignore him. He’s annoying me right now and I don’t even know why.
“Do you need more treatment …?” Harry asks, a little frown on his face as he looks me over, probably making sure his little patient isn’t too damaged.
“No, I was just going to take a shower and then …” I trail off, overly aware of Izak’s scrutiny as he glances between us. “Did you want a lift home after?” We rode in together in my car after all. It’s only fair I offer to take him home.
“Oh, um …” Harrison replies, eyes fixing back on Izak. “You know what? I still have a bit to do here. I’ll make my own way back home.”
“You sure? I don’t mind waiting.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says. I feel a little pang in my gut at his dismissal of me.
I mean, I know we’re not best friends even though I threatened him with that title this morning.
But if I don’t get to take Harrison home it means someone else will and then maybe they’ll go grab a bite to eat together and share those laughs Harrison freely gives out while I’ll be at home all by myself, overthinking this interaction.
Maybe this is all in my head—this connection I feel with Harrison. I mean, he hasn’t been the one to go out of his way to contact me . I’ve been the one following him around and making him go out on days in the city with me.
It’s just, I’m never usually wrong about these kinds of things. I feel a connection with Harrison, and I am positive he feels it too. And this is exactly why I wanted to take him home tonight.
The overthinking has already begun.
“Okay, well, sure,” I stutter, stepping back from the treatment room. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, okay. Seeya, Case,” Harrison replies. I feel his eyes on me, and I think he probably picked up the dejection in my tone because I’m pretty sure there’s a hint of regret on his face. But he called me Case again so maybe I’m just overthinking. Yeah, that’s probably it.
I head off for my shower, letting the water cascade over my head as it soaks the sweat off my muscles.
Today has been a full-on day. I’m pretty sure that between Harrison’s ice-skating class and Dean’s punishing weights session I have used every muscle group in my body.
I’m feeling the dull ache of it now, but I know that by tomorrow I’m going to feel great.
That’s just how my body works. Well, it did before the adductor strain took over, but I’ve been getting really good at ignoring that part of my body.
I pull on the sweats I wore to the ice rink this morning then haul my top on, shoulder muscles straining with the effort.
I’m taking my sweet merry time getting myself organised which is why I’m surprised when I step out into the corridor to find Harrison waiting for me, one leg propped up against the wall for support.
“Hey,” I say.
“So my calendar cleared up for the rest of the afternoon,” he tells me and my heart soars at his words. See? It really was all in my head. I really need to stop overanalysing every interaction I have with him.
“Oh so now you want that lift?” I return with a slow nod. “Now that I’m convenient for you again.”
“Shut up,” Harrison smiles, dimple out in force. “I can just as easily get a lift home with Ben.”
“Nope. Ben’s not your best friend,” I respond, grabbing hold of his bicep and hauling him towards the carpark.
“Oh and you are?”
“Didn’t we already discuss that this morning?” I ask, scratching my chin. “Maybe even signed a contract in blood?”
“Um, no. That did not happen.”
“I must be thinking about my other best friend,” I grin at him, watching that smile he’s trying to hide spread across his face. “Gee that dimple is adorable. I bet that’s opened a thousand doors for you, huh?”
“What? No,” he protests, swatting my hand away when I reach up to prod it.
“Oh look at it. It’s so cute.”
“Stop, Casey. The dimple is off limits,” he returns, trying to be all stern with me. Even that’s cute too.
“What? Why?” I gasp. “Best friends should be able to touch their best friend’s dimples whenever they want. It’s in the contract we signed this morning.”
“In blood?”
“Exactly. It’s like, incontrovertible now.”
“Do you even know what that word means?” he laughs at me as we reach the underground carpark.
“Yes. It means if you deny me you might have to give me your soul.” Harrison just shakes his head at me as we reach my Range Rover, and I unlock the doors. “Face it, Harry. That dimple is mine now.”
“I will dispute that to my dying breath.”
“I don’t know why you’re protesting so hard. All I want is to be able to touch it whenever I want.”
“And you don’t see the issue with that?”
“Nope. Afraid not,” I reply as we slide into the front seats, and I start up the car. His sigh is music to my ears as I put the car into drive and head out onto the road. “So, now that we’ve established my rights to your dimple, want to pick up something for dinner on the way home?”
“Sure,” he says with only half a sigh this time. I take that as the win it is.