SIX WEEKS WITH HIM

Final session

Friday. 4 PM.

Day 14. Last session.

The physio room smelled the same as day one. Antiseptic, old sweat, and the faint hint of rain coming through the window.

Lucas was already there. No crutches. No brace. Just him, sitting on the edge of the bed in grey shorts and a black t-shirt, looking like he’d been waiting hours.

“You’re early,” I said, trying to keep my voice normal.

“So are you.”

We both knew why.

I set my clipboard down and pulled on my gloves out of habit. Then I stopped.

“Dr. Onyango cleared you yesterday,” I said. “You don’t need me anymore.”

“I know.”

I nodded. Sat on the stool across from him.

For a long time, neither of us spoke.

“How’s the knee?” I asked finally. Stupid question.

“Good,” he said. “Strong. I jogged 2km this morning. No pain.”

“Good.” I swallowed. “That means I did my job.”

“You did more than that.”

I looked up.

Lucas wasn’t looking at the ceiling anymore. He was looking at me.

“Kip,” he said, and my name sounded different now. Less careful. More real. “I don’t know how to say this without making it weird.”

“It’s already weird,” I said quietly. “We made it weird.”

He smiled at that. Small, crooked.

“Yeah,” he said. “We did.”

I took a breath. “Lucas, I can’t—”

“I’m not asking you to break the rules now,” he cut in. “I know what this cost you. I know what’s at stake.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m just asking… after today, can we try?”

“Try what?”

“Try us.”

The word hung in the air between us.

Us.

Two weeks ago I would’ve laughed. Lucas Kimani, rugby captain, cheerleader’s boyfriend, didn’t do ‘us’ with guys like me.

But he wasn’t looking at me like I was Kip the student physio anymore.

He was looking at me like I was just Kip.

“I don’t know if I’m good at this,” I said honestly. “At dating. At… whatever this is.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “But I’d rather be bad at it with you than good at pretending I don’t want to.”

My chest tightened.

“Dr. Onyango will kill me if she finds out,” I said.

“Then she doesn’t have to find out,” he said. “Not yet. Not until I’m officially discharged and you’re off the contract.”

I laughed, despite myself. “That’s literally in ten minutes.”

“Exactly.”

He stood up. Walked the three steps between us. Stopped right in front of me.

“Kip,” he said again.

I stood up too.

For a second, I thought about the rules. About my dad. About my placement. About everything that could go wrong.

Then I thought about two weeks of stolen looks, accidental touches, and the way he said my name when he thought I wasn’t listening.

“Okay,” I said.

His eyes lit up.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” I repeated. “After today. We try.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks.

“Good,” he said.

Then, before I could overthink it, he reached out and brushed his thumb across my knuckles. Just a touch. Light. Public enough that it wasn’t a risk, but personal enough that it made my pulse jump.

“See you outside the room, Kip,” he said.

“See you outside the room, Lucas.”

---

Dr. Onyango came in five minutes later for the discharge paperwork.

“Range of motion?” she asked.

“Full,” I said.

“Strength?”

“95% of baseline. He’s cleared for return to play.”

She signed the form, then looked at me.

“You did good work, Kip,” she said. “Professional. Thorough.”

“Thank you, Dr. Onyango.”

She paused at the door. “And Kip… keep it professional.”

“I will,” I said.

She left.

Lucas was waiting in the hall.

He grinned when he saw me.

“So,” he said. “Dinner? My treat. To celebrate my knee.”

“Your knee,” I said, rolling my eyes. But I was smiling.

“Yeah. My knee. And whatever comes after.”

We walked out together. Not patient and physio. Just two guys leaving campus as the sun went down.

Six weeks.

It felt like both the end and the beginning.

---

*Epilogue - One Week Later*

Lucas’s text came at 9 PM: _Rugby win. Come watch the next game? I’ll save you a seat._

I replied: _Only if you promise not to reinjure yourself showing off._

His reply was immediate: _No promises. But I’ll try not to make Kip the physio have to run onto the field._

I smiled at my phone and typed back: _See you Saturday._

Some contracts were worth breaking.

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