Rihaan
I WAS IN MY very own personal hell.
Sparks of fire seeped into my skin as Maeve continued to massage my rhomboid.
My shoulder blade had already been killing me by the time we finished training, and in an attempt to soothe myself, I’d overstretched the muscle.
But even the sting wasn’t enough to override the sparks at the touch itself.
Which was stupid, and I was well aware of that.
I’d worked with plenty of physiotherapists before, and still nothing had felt this charged…ever.
After I’d left Coach’s office, I stayed true to my words and quit my spells, focusing on fielding before eventually moving to batting once my shoulder stopped screaming so loudly.
That was three hours ago, and since then I’d yet to hear from Maeve again. A part of me wondered if I’d gotten her in trouble again. Considering it had been ten minutes since I’d perched myself on the treatment table, and she’d barely uttered a single word.
I’d left lunch early hoping—subconsciously or not—that I’d catch her coming in and get a chance to tell her to lay it off. And maybe ask what her issue really was.
Ever since the day I forced myself to relieve the memory from when we first met, it had been playing in my head like a broken cassette. Yet, each time it replayed, I couldn’t find a single thing I’d done to make her this upset.
An involuntary hiss left me when her fingers pressed along the knot that had formed. Heat gathered beneath my skin as she gentled her touch. “Tell me if that’s too much.”
I shifted slightly. “It doesn’t.”
I waited for her to call me out, but when she didn’t answer, it only fuelled my confusion.
I’d spent most of the morning irritate by what she’d done and said, and now, when all she gave me was silence, and…professionalism, I couldn’t help but be bothered.
I glanced at her reflection in the mirror.
She was concentrating on my shoulder, expression unreadable.
“You're quiet.” I gave in, trying my best to keep my voice nonchalant, even though I was pretty sure this was the first time in my life I’d attempted to do such.
Her hands paused for half a second before continuing.
“You're brooding.” She matched my tone. “And frankly, I don't want to set you off again. I'm not exactly in the mood for another one of your tantrums.”
My head snapped in her direction. Until then, I hadn’t realised just how close she was She’d moved from behind me to near my shoulder, and a slight shift would have had us be one breath apart. But then her word landed again—tantrum—and the irritation flared back through me.
“You sure like that word, don’t you?” I snapped. “And you say I like to hold grudges.”
She blinked, amusement flashing in her blue eyes. “Maybe we’re just too alike.”
Something in my deflated.
Huh.
Maeve pressed into a spot, making me hiss again, only louder.
“Fuck.”
Her hands stilled, surprise flickering across her eyes.
“How painful was that, on a scale of one to ten?”
“I don’t know. A strong five?”
She frowned. “I’m not asking about the overall pain. I mean when I do this.”
She pressed the same spot again.
My hand flew up instinctively, covering the place she'd touched. “Ow.”
Her expression sharpened immediately.
“Fine. It’s at an eight.”
She shook her head, like she instantly knew what I meant. “Rihaan.”
“What?” Refusing to give in, I lowered my arm. “It’s nothing.”
Surprise caught me again when Maeve merely pressed her lips into a thin line, moved her hands back to the spot, and forced me to shift my gaze back towards the wall.
I finally spoke again, making a genuine attempt to not sound defensive. “I wasn’t having a tantrum.”
“Sure looked like one.” She sounded completely unbothered.
As though then something snapped in her—something that had been holding her back—and she huffed, moving until she was the only thing in my focus.
“Why are you guarding your pain?”
Her pitch startled me. “I told you I’m fine.”
“God, you’re such a liar.” She looked like she wanted to pull her hair out. Before I could reply, she continued. “Look, I can’t work like this. Do you know how lucky you are?”
“I—”
“Still talking,” She pointed to her mouth, pulling my attention straight to her lips and before I could help it, my mind was playing replay on the memory when I was completely owned by them.
Only, now I had no desire to repeat that memory.
Liar.
Maeve snapped her fingers, pulling my attention. “Look. I don’t care if you want to end your career or not. I don’t want to end mine. So for the next couple weeks, can we just…have a truce? Or maybe you can pretend to pay some attention.”
“Couple weeks?” I asked, my brows pinching in a frown.
“Six,” She replied, resignation filled in her eyes.
“That’s supposed to be the test period—or at least the period they think will be enough to do damage control.
As far as I can tell, all your pain is only muscular.
Nothing that makes me particularly worried, but you need to do your rehab, and rest. If you do that—If you try to work with me, I would be happy to put out a statement after six weeks like the team wants me to. ”
“Why only Six weeks?”
She sighed. “It’s supposed to be my prohibition period. Plus, if you and the team go on to win this next test, the headlines will have something new to focus on. England in Finals.”
I raised a brow. “And if we lose?”
We weren’t going to, but I was too intrigued what’s her alternative.
“They’ll focus on your loss? I don’t really care. I’ll be gone long before I focus on that.”
That made me pause. “You’re quitting in six weeks?”
She shook her head once. “I’ll ask for a re-transfer back to the Women’s team. If I stay the test period, I doubt my father or the board will still have an issue with it. But they won’t budge right now.”
“Where is this coming from?” I asked. “This morning you were all up for bickering and tattling.”
She bit her lower lip, lifting her shoulder. “My father asked me. He doesn’t want a repeat of today.”
I considered it for a beat. No part of me was interested in repeating the small history with her any longer. Her actions had made sure of that. But if the moments before were anything to go by, there was a strange part of me that couldn’t quite handle being completely cold towards her either.
Maybe a truce wasn’t so bad.
She had said it was six weeks. Six weeks, and as long as she stayed on her side of the field, I could do this. “We can have a truce. On one condition.”
“Really?” Her expression morphed into surprise, before she asked. “What’s your condition?”
“You promise not to pull another stunt like this morning.”
Her beautiful features twisted into a scowl. “What stunt?”
“Disrupting my spell. That was humiliating, and between the two of us—I’ve had enough of that from you to last a lifetime.”
“Humiliating you this morning wasn’t my intention—”
“It wasn’t your intention only this morning?”
“Yeah, but I sure as hell don’t mind it, either.”
I glared. “Thanks for clarifying that.”
“My pleasure.” She replied, unmoved by my glare. “Okay. I promise to not disrupt your spell like I did this morning—if you promise not to go past your allowed volume, you work with me with your pain, do the rehab and rest.”
I held up one finger, stopping her. “No. Not like just this morning. Not at all.”
She reached for my hand without thinking, her own finger curling around the one I'd raised as she said it. “Yes. Fine.”
The contact lasted barely a second, and still it felt like a current had shot straight through me. Like she could feel the same spark, she released my finger almost instantly.
“Okay,” She shook her hand lightly. “Lie down.”
I obeyed her words, even though the urge to do the same was strong. Except, it wouldn’t have done me any good, because for the next twenty minutes, the warmth beneath my skin had little to do with the pain and everything to do with the lingering awareness of her touch.
She worked carefully around the affected muscle, easing the tension she'd found rather than forcing the joint through anything that might aggravate it.
I tried to focus on the treatment, on the steady pressure of her fingers and the ache gradually loosening beneath them, but no matter what, I just couldn’t.
Especially when every touch seemed to leave something behind.
Perhaps that was why I found it easier to concentrate on the fact that she'd been right.
Again.
Maeve
TO NO ONE’S SURPRISE, working with Rihaan became much smoother once we’d called a truce.
Sure, we still had our own set of issues to work through.
Him withholding his pain until it became too much was one of them, but it was still better than fighting him every step of the way.
Like I’d expected when I’d mulled over my father’s request. I wasn’t exactly sure what had changed his mind this quickly, but I wasn’t complaining.
My father on the other hand was definitely not complaining.
Said it was his favourite gift. The only thing—
“You’re doing it again.”
I blinked as Samyra’s voice drew back my attention to my phone that was currently propped against the coffee mug on the small desk in my room. Her face filled the screen, eyebrows pinched, clearly concerned. “What’s going on?”
“Just trying to figure out what exactly changed Rihaan’s mind,” I replied, shaking my head once more.
“And?” She raised a brow.
“No clue,” I shrugged. “I know I should just relish in the fact that by some miracle he decided to call a truce, but it’s only been a couple days and it feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Well,” She started, her eyes still filled with concern. “That’s just sad.”
“What is?”
“You spending your Friday evening in your hotel room, wondering why a guy decided to do something.”
I cringed. “God. That is pathetic.”
Sammy nodded. “Why are you holed up in your room, anyway? It’s like, what, 6 pm?”