Page 67 of Patrick

“When you care about someone, Trick, it’s not a bad decision to want to be with them. You and Sofia belong together.”

I study her, and she smiles at me as she barrels down the road at an impressive speed. She’s quick in more than one way.

We arrive on campus in time for my doctor’s appointment, and Pammy insists on waiting for me outside Doc’s office at the Whit’s practice facility.

Sitting on the exam table, I answer Doc’s questions and wait for his verdict.

He puts aside his flashlight or whatever it is he’s shining in my eyes and gives me a stern look.

“You’re clear for moderate activity—and I mean moderate—such as walking and light skating. No full practice.”

“What about tomorrow’s game?” I tense up and forget to breathe.

“No game. You need to stick with moderate activity only for forty-eight hours with no return of symptoms before you can increase your activity.”

“What about my phone?”

“You can have an hour of screen time for the next two days. Choose your screen wisely. Still no driving, but you can go to class.”

I nod and hop off the table, ready to get past this concussion protocol.

As I reach the door, Doc stops me in my tracks.

“No sex.”

I look back at him to make sure he’s serious as my heart starts pounding in revolt.

“I was told you have a girlfriend. She’s waiting for you outside, isn’t she? Keep your hands off her.”

The blood drops to my toes momentarily at the idea of Pammy and me. I have nothing but friendly interest in her and wouldn’t dream of touching her—aside from that pretend kiss—even if I did find her attractive that way, which I don’t.

I don’t think about anyone but Fifi when it comes to physical desire—or any desire. She’s the only one I think about touching, dream about touching, long to touch. Soon.

“Forty-eight hours?”

He nods, and I leave wishing I could blink the time away.

That’s when I realize how pathetic I am. Shit.