CHAPTER THREE
LEVI
It’s late afternoon now, just hours after being told I’d have to do Pilates as rehab. What a joke. I’m still fired up about it.
The TV is muted, playing highlights of the playoff game from last night – the end of our season, to be specific.
My apartment is bathed in soft, golden hues from the sun setting, creating a light glare across the screen.
I lean back on the couch, my right arm strapped in its sling. I turn a puck over in my hand, lost in thought – the movement beginning to soothe my irritation, though I’m still tense.
Letting my head roll over to the side, I glance to Evan Calloway, my right wing and one of my best friends, at the other end of the couch.
He’s leaned back with his long legs stretched out and feet propped up on the coffee table, his phone in one hand and his fingers running through his dark hair with the other.
I shift my eyes over to Bennett Steele, our goalie and another one of my closest friends, slouched over in the recliner with a bag of chips sitting on his stomach, which I can hear him chomping down on – So irritating.
His dark hair mostly covered by a baseball cap, with the ends splaying out from underneath.
I toss the puck onto the coffee table and let out a sigh, breaking the silence. The two of them just let themselves in as they got here and hadn’t pressed me to open up.
“You know what they’ve got me doing now?” I roll my eyes before I continue, “Pilates.”
Steele lets out a snort as Calloway’s head snaps up from his phone, surprised. I already know some kind of interrogation is coming.
Steele speaks up first. “Wait – like, which one?”
“The one with the machine and the springs.”
“Oh, the reformer machines!” Calloway pipes in, “Those are intense. So good for your posture and mobility.”
“I don’t need any of that shit, man. I need to get back on the ice, they’ll just have me there breathing and pulling a couple of ropes. This won’t help me.”
The guys roll their eyes at me, obviously exasperated.
“That’s how you engage the necessary muscles, Genius. You have a sister, how do you not know about this shit, man?” Calloway sighs, clearly getting annoyed. “Just give it a chance, you might surprise yourself. Stop being so macho or whatever.”
“I’m an athlete,” I spit out, “Not a ballerina. I need to be doing some form of strength training to be even remotely ready for next season.”
Steele lets out a low whistle, softly shaking his head. “Man, be careful. I’ve seen a couple of guys try Pilates once – it looked harder than our off-ice drills, if I’m being honest.”
I scoff because there’s just no way. “Dude, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
Out of nowhere, Calloway bursts out laughing. We both look at him, perplexed.
“What?”
He’s still chuckling as he tries to get the words out, “I hope someone films this. Levi Carter, Captain of the Seattle Rainiers, getting humbled in Reformer Pilates.”
Steele joins in, laughing his ass off, “Oh, I need to see that.”
“Great, yeah. I can’t wait for that.” I deadpan.
“Honestly, man. If it gets you back on the ice, just put up with it.”
I contemplate it for a second, maybe they’re right. Regardless, no one can know this is my assignment. “If either of you tell anyone outside the team, you’re dead to me.” And I mean that.
Steele rolls his eyes, “Sure, big guy,” He laughs, “Whatever you say.”
I sit up in my seat. “Guys, I’m serious. No one can find out yet.”
Calloway scoffs, “Fine.”
I ignore him. “No, but seriously, is this really what’s going to get me back on the ice? Not skating, not weights, but Pilates?” I grimace, “This is a joke.”
Steele speaks up next, “Dude, seriously. My mom does Pilates. Shit’s not as easy as it looks, I’m sure of it.”
“This fucking shoulder.” I mutter. “One little hit, and this is what happens.”
“Dude, I know it’s frustrating.” Calloway says, smirking, “But everything is brute force with you. Maybe your body is just trying to tell you something. That you need to take it easier – and for the record, ballerinas are athletes.” He finishes with a pointed look.
“Yeah,” I roll my eyes, “My body is trying to tell me something. That it wants to get back on the ice, like, yesterday.”
Steele laughs, “Dude, it looks brutal. Trust me.”
I’m getting increasingly more defensive, “No. Seriously, I just don’t think this is the right path for me. I need rehab that I know is certainly going to work. I don’t know why Coach can’t see that. I have to be back on the ice in October. I have to be.”
The room goes quiet for a moment – just the sound of Steele crunching down on some of his chips. It’s like he’s trying to piss me off today.
Once Steele finishes his mouthful, he unfortunately decides to speak up again. “Do you know who your instructor is yet?”
I sigh, leaning my head back to look up to the roof.
The long brown hair, vibrant green eyes, the twang of an accent I still can’t quite put my finger on.
Then her lean, muscular figure that leads down to the most perfect ass I’d ever seen.
I shift, attempting to be discreet as I reach down to adjust my crotch at the thought of her.
“Yeah. Scarlett Quinn.”
“Wait, that name rings a bell,” Steele contemplates for a second before his eyes widen slightly, “Scarlett Quinn? I’ve seen her stuff online since she joined one of the local studios. She is good. You’re in great hands, Lev.”
I sigh. Yeah. Sure I am.
Calloway leans over to Steele, “Hey, you got a picture? I’ve got to see.”
“Yes!” Steele opens his phone again, pulling something up on the screen. Calloway’s jaw drops, Steele glances at him, “She’s hot, right?”
“Dude, why are you complaining? Look at her. That’s a great way to spend your time.”
I groan, “Come on. Stop thinking with your dick. She’s going to be a pain in my ass. That’s the only way I see her.”
Steele speaks with a smirk, “I can’t wait to see you eat your words.”
I roll my eyes and lean forward, picking up the puck, turning it over in my hand again, like that’ll help me to stop thinking about my damn Pilates Instructor.
This is going to be a long few months.
…
SCARLETT
I slam my mug down on the counter, the tea sloshing over the rim spreading a pale ring on the counter. It’s just been one of those days – I’m rather overwhelmed.
Ayla, my new friend, and neighbour is perched on the other side of the island with an eyebrow raised at me. “Girl, are you okay?”
I chuckle sarcastically, “No, I don’t think I am. I just need to mentally prepare.”
“For what?”
“The rehab case I’m now contracted to.” I take a sip of my tea, “Some NHL player. Shoulder dislocation and I need to get him back to being better than ever.”
Ayla tilts her head at me, contemplating. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but… Can’t you choose your own clients?”
I let out a dramatic sigh. “I know, but you should see this contract. I would have been dumb to turn it down.”
“Just circling back,” Ayla pumps her eyebrows at me, “An NHL player, you say? Which one?”
I sigh as I grab a Tim Tam out of its packet. I fucking love Tim Tams. I slide one over to Ayla as well. “I can’t disclose. Part of my contract” I mumble, taking a bite out of the biscuit.
Ayla contemplates. “They’re all cute anyway.” She waves me off, “I would expect you’d be more excited about this.”
“Yeah, but it seems like he’s going to be a nightmare.” I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms. “He’s cocky, I don’t think he wants to work for his recovery, just expects a miracle is going to happen.”
“Maybe he just needs someone that will stand up and go toe to toe with him.” Ayla says, though, she’s not the one that has to do the standing.
I snort. “Yeah, because nothing is going to motivate a spoiled athlete like a lecture from a five-foot-five Pilates Instructor. Come on, girl, be serious.”
“You’re selling yourself short.” She smirks, making me roll my eyes. “You can do this. In the brief time I’ve known you, I’ve seen how powerful and persuasive you can be, not to mention your patience. If anyone can help him, it’s you. And you never know, maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“I doubt it.” I finish my tea and walk over to rinse my mug, before placing it down in the sink, the porcelain clinking softly.
“I’ve met his type before. All cockiness and sarcasm.
Thinks pain tolerance equals progress, thinking the rules don’t apply to him.
He’s going to learn real quick that that shit doesn’t fly in my studio. ”
Ayla grins. “So, when’s the big day?”
“Two weeks. At least I have some time to come to terms with the situation, and he has some time to hopefully come around.”
“Are you nervous?”
“No,” I hesitate before continuing, “Maybe a little. It’s just a lot, you know? It’s intense and there’s high expectations. What happens if I can’t make him come around and see reason? I need to make this work.”
Ayla nods as she picks up her mug bringing it towards her mouth before stopping just a few inches away. “You always end up with tough clients. Maybe it’s your curse.” She takes a sip of her tea.
“He’ll come in thinking I’m some pushover, and he’s going to be sorely mistaken. I can’t wait to prove him wrong. If he wants back on the ice, then he’s following the plan I set out. No short cuts.”
Ayla raises her mug. “Here’s to knocking that man down a peg or two.”
I arch an eyebrow, jutting my chin out to her as my mouth pulls up into a small smirk. “Cheers to that.”
Two weeks from today, I’d officially start training Levi Carter – Seattle’s golden boy, Captain of the Rainiers.
He’s just another client, Scarlett. You’ve rehabbed a number of athletes before; you can do this.
But deep down, I already know. It’s not going to be that simple.