Page 53 of Dream On, Liar

“If you’re so sure about your ability to continue,” I started. “Let’s get you to do a shoulder stability test.”

“You’re not serious.” The bewilderment in his expression would’ve been funnier had I not been the one involved in the situation.

“As a heart attack,” I replied—even though, since the saying was coined in the 60s, it was statistically less accurate, I thought.

“What?” he asked, making me realise I’d said the latter part out loud as well.

When I remained silent, he looked at me expectantly. His expression mirrored the look he’d worn the night—

“Nothing,” I shook myself once, convincing myself that I’d made up. Before he could push me to elaborate, I asked. “So, what’s it going to be? Stability test or a break?”

“And if I say, neither?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“My report later will say you skipped mandatory screening, and—”

“What?” He cut me off, his voice a higher pitch than it had been before but I continued over his voice.

“And, continued with training after reaching allowed volume—even after warnings.”

Disbelief coated his expressions. “I did not skip screening.”

“Well, you went to Faroq, instead of me.”

“He’s the senior physio.”

“And yet, my signature is needed on all your notes to clear you each morning.” I grinned, knowing my lack of frustration, irritated him more. “Special instructions from the Head Coach, and the board.”

He shrugged. “I can easily say that you’re just trying to jeopardise me on purpose, especially because your reaction from first meet ensured I couldn’t bring Doreen around during camp.”

“Well, you are a liar.” I snapped.

“And, you are trouble.”

“You—”

“Enough.” My father’s voice cut me off before I could snap back with something sharper, startling both of us at once. “You two. Come with me. Now.”

I glanced around us, only noticing then how everyone had paused, their eyes fixed on us.

Great.

This was just great.

Without waiting to see what he was going to do, I tightened my grip on my tablet and followed in the direction my father had gone.

I could feel the weight of everyone’s attention lingering on my back as Rihaan caught up to me.

Before I could help it, the words spilled out of me. “You know, you’re not really doing much to help your case, right?”

Rihaan faltered, barely, his eyes narrowing in my direction as he fell back into step. “What is that supposed to mean?”

I gripped my tablet tighter. “It means that even though you’re refusing to listen to me and pretending to be deeply hurt over my paper, and still…proving me right. I read the notes left by the previous senior physio. Weren’t you supposed to be on complete rest during the break to heal your Posterior Tibialis? And yet, during the first meet it was easy to spot that you’d barely rested. And now, you know there’s a limit for you during each rotation because of your previous injuries. It’s to ensure you don’t overwork yourself, but you just don’t care. Either you’re insecure about your own ability to perform well, or you simply don’t think that the professionals know what they’re talking about.”

When he remained silent as we reached the steps to the locker silents, I finally looked at him, in all his fuming glory and finished. “Or, I was right. You think because you’ve achieved a few milestones in your early career, you think you’re some kind of rare jewel this sport has scene, and you can do whatever the fuck you want, and then pout because someone called you out one.”

His gaze narrowed then, his voice filled with challenge as he spoke. “You want to know what it feels like when someone calls you out? Take a fucking look in the mirror, Maeve. You’re saying I do whatever I want and throw a tantrum, but you’ve just ensured my entire career is now under microscope all the while you get a fucking promotion because of who your dad is.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, we’re back at this?”