The Player

Chapter 11

Brielle

5:54 PM

"Five, six, seven, eight!" I shouted, trying to be heard over the blasting music.

It had been nearly a week since Christopher and I had went to the carnival. Ever since then, we were

awkward around each other, not really knowing what to say to one another. We used to be able to hide

behind our bickering, but ever since then we couldn't. After that night, I knew that something had

changed between us, but I didn't know that it would happen in this way. Our usual banter was replaced

by total silence.

We were in the dance studio, practicing our routine for the showcase. We finished scraping the gum Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

from under the bleachers, so now my complete focus was on this dance. Christopher knew the basic

choreography of our routine, but his technique still needed to be improved tremendously. I knew that

we still had a long way to go. He struggled the most with the lifts in the routine. Although he was strong,

he had no idea how to execute them, and how to make them look graceful. Because of this, I was too

scared to practice them with him.

When we got to the most difficult lift, I held my breath, not wanting him to drop me. He threw me up in

the air successfully, but when it came time to catch me, his hand slipped from my waist. My eyes

widened, as the floor became closer and closer and closer until...

Thud.

Hot, white pain coursed through my body as I landed on the floor. In an effort to break my fall, I fell on

my left foot, causing my ankle to roll in the process. I curled in a ball on the studio floor, grabbing my

ankle and rolling back and forth in pain. Christopher quickly kneeled beside me, his face laced with

concern.

"Are you okay Brielle?" He asked franticly, running his fingers through his hair. "Do you need

anything?"

I shook my head no as I bit my lip to hold in the pain.

"I'm fine," I squeaked out, using all my energy to sound remotely okay. I held in my tears, wanting to

stay strong.

He offered a hand towards me. "Are you okay getting up?"

I nodded my head yes as I grabbed onto his hand, using my good leg to help me get up. Once I put

down my bad leg, however, the pain returned. The intensity was so great that I nearly fainted. I fell on

my butt in agony, all my resolve now gone.

I let the tears roll down my face as I sobbed into my hands. If I couldn't even walk, there was no way

that I could do ballet. The last thing that I needed was some ankle injury two months away from the

showcase. I had no clue how long I would have to sit out of dance.

Two hands scoop around me as I was swept off the floor. I looked up to see Christopher carrying me

bridal style out of the room. He nimbly navigated the hallways as if I weighed nothing.

"Where are we going?" I choked out in between sobs

"We're going to the athletic trainer. She always helps when one of the players gets injured."

I nodded my head, not wanting to talk more than I needed to. The throbbing in my ankle intensified as it

began to turn red and swollen. I buried my head in his shirt, wetting it with my tears. When we finally

reached the athletic trainer's office, his shirt had a large wet patch on it.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly when he put me down, spotting the stain on his shirt.

We walked into the office only to find that it was empty. He set me down on the plastic bed, grabbing an

icepack from the fridge and an ankle wrap from a cabinet. He moved swiftly through the office, seeming

to know where everything was.

"Do you come here a lot?" I questioned, curious on why he was so familiar with the layout.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "My teammates get injured all the time. I always watched the trainer help

them so I pretty much know what to do."

He kneeled beside me, placing the icepack on my ankle. I shuddered, the pressure of the bag causing

a sharp pain to shoot up my leg.

"Ow!" I winced, placing my hand on my forehead as I squeezed my eyes shut. He grabbed a bandage

from beside him and began gently wrapping my foot. Despite his efforts, it still hurt like hell.

"Say something to distract me," I spat out.

"I don't know what to say."

"Just say anything!" I opened my eyes at him, staring expectantly.

"OK, fine," he said, a look of deep concentration on his face. Suddenly, a blush crept up on his cheeks.

"Promise that you won't tell anyone?"

I was too preoccupied on his red face to comprehend what he just said. "Are you blushing?"

"Never mind," he grumbled, looking away.

"No, no I was kidding," I said, trying to contain my laughs. "Come on, tell me!"

He paused a moment before he mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath.

"What was that?" I asked.

He mumbled again, this time I could only make out a few words.

"You have to speak up. You know that I have tiny ears."

He took a deep breath before he shouted out, "I want to be a stunt double!"

At that point, I couldn't contain my laughs. The idea of Christopher jumping out of buildings was almost

too comical to bear.

"Don't laugh," he said, in-between laughing himself. "I know it sounds ridiculous but I've been in karate

ever since I was a kid. I've always been pretty reckless and an adrenaline junkie, so I thought it would

be the perfect job for me."

As much as I thought it was funny, I could kind of see it. He was always doing crazy things, and he was

probably one of the most fearless people I knew. If there was anyone that I would expect to put

themselves in dangerous positions on purpose and enjoy it, it would be him.

"So, if you've taken karate for over a decade why in the world are you so bad at dance?"

"Dance is so different it's not even funny."

He looked at me, his eyes growing serious. "But you promise not to tell anyone?"

"I promise," I said, zipping my mouth closed with my hand. "My lips are sealed."

I was so distracted that I didn't even notice that he had finished wrapping my foot. He pushed himself

off of the floor, now towering above me as he inspected his handy work.

"You probably just rolled it. Just keep it elevated and don't walk on it and you should be fine." He

grabbed my leg that was dangling over the side of the bed and rested it on top. "We should probably

wait for the trainer just to be sure."

I nodded my head, surprised at how much he seemed to know about this stuff. The room grew quiet as

we had nothing left to say.

"So why don't you want to be a professional athlete?" I asked, trying to break the silence. He shrugged

his shoulders, looking anywhere but at me.

"I like playing football because it's fun, but I feel like doing it as a job will take that away. I don't want it

to ever feel like a chore."

While I understood what he was saying, I couldn't relate. Dancing was my everything. If I could dance

every minute of every day for the rest of my life, I would be the happiest girl on Earth. The thought of

not doing it every day was unimaginable.

"What would you do if you couldn't dance?" He asked, seeming to read my thoughts.

I chewed on my lip, trying to think of anything, but my mind seemed to go blank. "I have no clue."

He scoffed at me, rolling his eyes. "You're telling me that even if you could join the circus or be a

famous singer you still wouldn't want to do anything but dance?"

I racked my brain, trying to think of anything before it finally hit me.

"If I had to choose I would do something in the water." I smiled at the idea. "Every week me and my dad

wake up early and go swimming in the ocean. Besides dancing, it's the only time that everything else in

my life just seems to disappear."

I closed my eyes, remembering the cold water and crisp air. That combined with the sunrise and the

only quality time that me and my dad spend together makes it one of the highlights of my week.

"Have you ever gone surfing?" he asked.

"No way. Knowing my luck, I would get bitten by a shark or something."

"You know that never really happens."

"I'm not taking any chances."

He looked at me smugly. "I didn't take you for a chicken."

I knew that he was just trying to egg me on, but my pride couldn't take being called a chicken.

"I am not!"

"Then prove it, once your ankle goes down, we're going surfing."

"Fine."

Once it left my mouth, I wished that I could take it back. Ever since I watched Soul Surfer, the idea of

even touching a surf board made me anxious.

Why did I always seem to agree to things I don't want to do when I'm around him?

At that moment, the athletic trainer walked in. She shook her head once she spotted my foot.

"Christopher, what did I tell you about treating other students by yourself. Especially after last time."

"What happened last time?" I questioned, genuinely curious. She gave Christopher a scolding glance

before answering my question.

"He diagnosed his teammates broken leg as a muscle cramp and told him to, and I quote," she made

air quotes with her fingers, "Walk it off."

I winced, imagining the pain of walking on a broken bone.

Christopher put his hands up in the air, as if he was surrendering. "In my defense, when I asked what

his pain was on a scale of one-to-ten he said a five."

"When I talked to him after he said that you asked on a scale of one-to-five, not one-to-ten."

He paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side.

"That makes a lot more sense."

I shook my head at him in frustration. "Why in the world would you touch my foot after that!"

"Relax, I knew it was just a sprained ankle, and I watched five seasons of Grey's Anatomy since then

so I'm much more qualified."

I scoffed at him. "Are you serious?"

Before he could respond, the trainer answered for him. "Sadly, he is."

She knelt by my foot, inspecting Christopher's work. After a few seconds, she sighed, getting back up.

"The bad news is that he actually did a good job."

"How is that a bad thing?" Christopher protested.

"Because now you're going to go around and misdiagnose more injuries."

She walked towards the cabinets, her back now facing away from us as she ruffled through them.

Christopher sat on the bed beside me so that our knees were touching. I leaned closer to him,

whispering in his ear.

"You really don't care, do you?"

His brows knitted in confusion. "About what?"

"Consequences. You just do whatever you want whenever regardless of what happens because of it."

His face was just inches away from mine, our noses almost touching. He glanced down towards my lips

before locking eyes with me again. The rest of the room seemed to fade away as all that I could focus

on was him. The air stood still as the moment seemed to stretch on forever.

He suddenly backed away from me, quickly glancing away. He let out a sigh, running his hands through

his hair.

"I wish."