3 #2
“And I’ve spent countless years picking up the broken pieces of brilliant athletes who believed themselves immortal and thought they could win the battle against physical wear and tear through sheer ego,” she replies, and this time her tone sounds less cold, more human, laced with an almost desperate insistence.
“Get this through your head: I have absolutely no interest in controlling your life, Alicia. The only thing I’m truly interested in is making sure you don’t destroy yourself.
Because I’ve already seen how much it hurts to have to pick up those pieces when it’s too late to put them back together. ”
Her tone has changed. She’s no longer the unapproachable head of the medical team.
Concern, when it’s displayed in such a real and raw way, is infinitely harder to fight off and dodge than pure military authority.
I stare at her in complete silence. We’re too close.
At this distance, I can perfectly distinguish the clean, fresh, subtle scent emanating from her skin, sense the faint weariness in the depths of her eyes, and see the exact way she holds her breath in her chest when she gets angry with me.
Everything about this woman is pure control, order, and restraint.
And I—a public menace—have an innate talent and a fatal attraction to wanting to shatter precisely that.
“And what if it turns out I don’t want anyone to come save me?” I ask, lowering my voice to a hoarse, almost intimate whisper.
Clara holds my gaze steadily without wavering one bit.
“Then, at least, have the decency not to force me to watch you fall apart when I could prevent it right now.”
The remark hits me squarely in a spot in my chest I wasn’t expecting at all.
Because what she just said didn’t sound professional.
Not entirely. It sounded terribly personal, intense, and visceral.
And that, coming from the relentless Clara Valle, throws me off balance.
I swallow with obvious difficulty, feeling my throat go dry.
My brain, in a deeply irresponsible and mischievous attempt to make the situation worse, decides to focus on the incredible closeness of her mouth.
On what the hell that same stern expression would look like if she weren’t angry with me.
On how much it’s setting me on fire inside that she’s talking to me that way, with that brutal mix of indomitable firmness and genuine care.
“You worry way too much about my physical well-being, considering how much you can’t stand me,” I murmur, completely mesmerized by her eyes.
Clara’s eyes drift down for a fleeting instant, straight toward my mouth.
It’s just a second, a blink, but I catch it instantly.
I see it perfectly. And at that precise moment, the air we’re breathing in the gym shifts in density.
It’s subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but it’s there.
A tension—uncomfortable, electric, and deliciously sexual.
The kind of thick silence that doesn’t belong—not even remotely—in an ordinary doctor’s office.
Clara takes another step toward me. Now we’re physically too close to keep pretending at a professional normalcy that went out the window a while ago.
“Under no circumstances will I allow you to ruin your brilliant career just because of a stupid burst of pride,” she says very slowly, without taking her eyes off mine.
“Your body is your only weapon on the field, Alicia. And if you betray it like that—if you constantly push it to the absolute limit—one day, not too far off, it’ll suddenly say ‘enough.’ And I don’t want to be the one who has to remind you of that when you’re sitting in a wheelchair and there’s no turning back. ”
I feel my pulse pounding with brutal force at the base of my throat.
I know I should be arguing with her right now.
I know I should be responding with one of my usual sarcastic remarks, putting some distance between us, and activating any of my usual defense mechanisms. Instead of doing the right thing, I’m too busy enjoying the scorching heat of her presence and asking myself questions that go completely against the club’s code of ethics.
Because this woman triggers a series of physical reactions in me that make me forget how I’m supposed to function as a responsible adult. And that’s a problem.
I tilt my head forward just a little, further closing the few millimeters that separate us.
“Do you always speak to all your patients with this intensity, or am I getting special treatment?” I blurt out in a mischievous voice.
Her breathing changes. I can tell perfectly well by the way her club polo shirt rises.
“Don’t get the wrong idea—I’m warning you,” she cautions me, though her voice sounds, at this moment, far from convinced by her own words.
“And what if it turns out I really, really want to get the wrong idea?” I insist, pushing her patience to the limit.
Oh my God… Why on earth did I just say that out loud?
I berate myself inwardly. Well, because I’m a born provocateur, that’s why.
Because I love pushing the boundaries. Because I need to know that, beneath all this apparent medical discussion, she’s also feeling the same wildfire that’s burning inside me.
Clara opens her mouth to answer me, her eyes ablaze. However, she can’t bring herself to utter a single word.
“Well, well… I hope I’m not interrupting any medical consultation of vital importance to the club’s future.”
The hoarse, powerful voice of the coach, Hugo Salvatierra, comes crashing down on our heads like a bucket of ice-cold water. We pull away from each other with such suspicious speed that it’s downright ridiculous.
Hugo strides into the gym holding a plastic folder under his arm and sporting a sly expression that clearly tells me he’s seen far more than he should have.
He’s an extremely observant man with a very twisted sense of humor, which, at this very moment, strikes me as a true stroke of divine misfortune.
“We were just doing a routine joint mobility check, sir,” Clara blurts out too quickly, nervously adjusting her lab coat.
He arches a bushy eyebrow with a skepticism that’s downright frightening.
“Of course. You two certainly looked very focused on the joint, all right.”
I decide that staring intently at the wall across from me with an intensity worthy of a scientific study is the best way to try to regain my composure as an indomitable star. May the earth swallow me up.
Hugo opens his folder without adding fuel to the fire and begins reviewing some printed documents.
“All right, let’s get down to business. I’ve been carefully reading the preliminary reports you sent me late last night, Clara, and I’ve also had a long talk with the team’s strength and conditioning coach.
I’ll tell you right now: I don’t like the actual condition of Alicia’s left knee one bit.
No matter how much you try, in your report, to reassure me and sugarcoat things so as not to alarm management,” he says, staring intently at Clara.
I let out a deep sigh and cross my arms, fed up with the drama.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Coach, please. It’s not that big of a deal.”