“Pilates?” I stared at the phone, where I had just spoken to the doctor who had been with me through my ACL journey.
It wasn't usual for him to give me a call, hence my uttermost surprise when he requested a call with me, when I was in the middle of drinking my brains out. Figuratively, because painkillers were my new buddies, and they didn't mix well with alcohol.
“Yo, Dex, come on!” my teammates shouted from inside our house, where an intense beer pong game was underway. Everyone got to enjoy the now lukewarm beer, while I sipped on my fucking soda.
I was living the dream before this plot twist.
“No offense, doc, but I don't think Pilates is what I need,” I told him when he took a breath during his long-winded speech.
Yeah, no thanks.
Pilates classes: it was all girls in cute outfits doing stretches and nothing else. I needed to strengthen the musclesaround my knee, so I worked my butt off during the summer.
“I'm not saying you aren't cleared for soccer. I'm saying you would benefit from regular Pilates classes and focused exercises to further strengthen your knee.”
Same shit.
“I'm sure there is a Pilates class on campus I can check out,” I brushed it off as my eyes travelled through our spacious garden, where a mock soccer game was underway.
Liam elbowed Max in his side, making my friend fall sideways, laughing. There were not many times Max let himself have fun and watching him finally not take life too seriously filled me with joy.
Maddox stood over them, shaking his head as one foot rested on the ball.
They were all having the time of their lives, while I lived with the constant panic of not starting this season and of missing my last chance to play soccer. All because of my dick and my big mouth.
Quite fitting.
Sad, but fitting.
“You can't just roll into any Pilates class, Derek,” Doc lectured me, and I wanted to roll my eyes. “You are recovering from an injury. You need special care.”
There it was. The word that drove me crazy. Along with special assistance and modifications.
All of those sounded like weaknesses.
“What do you suggest?” I grunted annoyed, and looking away from my friends, I eyed the beer pong setup in the living room, past the glass doors.
Ivy, Max's girlfriend, picked up the ball and aimed it at a cup with great concentration. She threw the ball, missing the cup completely. Nova, our Coach’s daughter, laughed next to her,bent over. Ivy fixed her blonde hair and shrugged it off, as her partner and our team's best goalie, Alfie, rolled his eyes.
He was pissed off at being stuck playing with Ivy and Nova, while I was on a team with two brunettes: Brooklyn, Liam's girlfriend from high school, and Paige, Alfie's girlfriend. Or whatever they were. I was never quite sure if they made it official yet, but everyone knew they were a thing.
Aaron and Oliver were also playing, but they both disappeared somewhere when I went to take the phone call.
Clearly, no one missed the three of us as the game carried on. Brooklyn picked up the ball, only to royally miss as well.
If it wasn't for us guys on the team, that beer pong game was going to last days.
“Are you listening to me?” Doc's annoyed voice cut through my thoughts, and I pulled my gaze from my friends. My parents paid big bucks for this guy to lecture me. But money was the last thing on my mind.
“No, sorry. I got distracted. Could you repeat that?”
The doctor took a deep breath. “I said, I know a small Pilates studio in town where they do individual classes, and you should check it out. I will send over the details.”
San Matjo was one of the smallest cities in California. It hosted not one but two universities. Aside from the campuses, there was little to the town itself. The whole city center was made up of six roads. I was sure I could find the only Pilates studio existing there.
“Sure, thanks,” I muttered, contrary to my thoughts, and after saying our quick goodbyes, I hung up the phone.
My legs took me back to the living room, itching to play some more beer pong, instead of watching my friends play soccer, which I couldn't risk. Especially not in the damp grass that hasn't dried since whoever was on garden duty watered it.
