“I’m fine,” I say. “You’re not fine,” she retorts. “You’re on crutches, Ryan. What happened?” She steps closer, her nakedness now within my reach. I grip tighter to the handles of my crutches. “I got clipped during the game,” I explain. “It’s nothing. Just a knee sprain—” Her eyes go even wider, her brows arching high. “A knee sprain?” She reaches for me. “Let me help you.” I stiffen, readying myself for the feeling of electric shock that is her touch. “M’fine,” I mumble, not daring to watch her hand glide up my arm. “Stop saying you’re fine. You look dead on your feet, and you’re swaying like
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