As she looked over the films, Jack reflected on how long he’d had a crush on her. She was super brilliant, a top-notch physician. She was also hot.
She turned to him. “Jack,” she said. “It’s a stress fracture. You’ll have to take six weeks off running. I’m sorry. You can swim, though.”
He slumped in his chair. “Six weeks?” he croaked.
“Jack,” she said huskily. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I have shin splints and I’ve been swimming, too. Also, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time.”
He didn’t get it. What did she mean? Why were women always so darn confusing?
“What are you talking about?” he said.
“Jack, we could do pool workouts together!” Her lovely and intelligent eyes shone.
He sprang from his chair and hugged her in a way that was passionate, yet still really respectful. “I think I get what you’re saying! Do you mean that I can actually run sooner than six weeks, like maybe just take a couple of days off and start back with easy, slow runs?”