Just A Bit Wrong

Tristan Dewar was upset. "I still don't get it, why don't you find a physical therapist I know? I don't know that guy, okay?"

His personal assistant gave him a look that was "tortured" with an understatement. "Because the club's physiotherapists are overwhelmed," she said. "Dr. Sheldon put you in rehab with him because he trusted the physical therapist."

Tristan checked the time on his phone. "The man is late. I don't have time to wait for him all day."

Seeing Lydia gnashing her teeth in anger, Tristan turned his face away and secretly smiled.However, when she spoke again, her voice was surprisingly calm: "Tristan, he was only 7 minutes late, how about you? It's only been 5 minutes, and you have already complained three times."

Tristan gave her an innocent look. "But he's late!"

"You yourself are always late, what kind of princess air." Lydia muttered, obviously not intending to let Tristan hear.The girl had been his personal assistant for over a year, and she still had no idea how good Tristan's ears were.Therefore, she likes to speak ill of Tristan behind her back.She thought Tristan couldn't hear, but Tristan just thought it was funny.

This time, Tristan knew he couldn't deliberately annoy Lydia anymore, so he suppressed his laughter.But he was so idle that he almost grew mushrooms.Because he was injured and unable to go out, teasing his personal assistant was barely entertaining.Admiring Lydia's sloppy but unable to spit out look is more interesting, but it's not enough.

"Zach Hardaway was highly recommended by the club," Lydia raised her voice. "He's certainly excused for being late. He's going to cost a lot of money as a physiotherapist and a personal trainer, and he must be of a very high standard."

Tristan shrugged.His team medical insurance has certified him, and he will definitely find the best physical therapist to treat his groin strain.But who will be in charge of Tristan did not ask, this is Lydia's job. "If others are not here, what's the use of a high level? Can my injury heal by myself? I don't want to wait any longer."

"Then let's go back first." Lydia said and started to get angry again. "I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be walking around in the first place."

Tristan leaned against the tree trunk, staring sullenly at his house. "I'm not a cripple, I almost vomit when I'm bored at home every day." His complaint was not meant to make Lydia angry.Tristan was on the verge of losing his mind from not being able to move.He misses football, the healthy and strong body he used to have, the days when he was running on the court, the wind when he dribbled the ball and shot, and the ecstasy when he scored. His name has been repeated by fans over and over Reciting and singing again and again, the deafening tune seemed to be still echoing in his ears.Football is his life, the only thing in his life that is worth everything.

Tristan looked at the gray sky.It's already March, and the World Cup will start in three months.He doesn't have much time to waste. If he wants to impress the coaches of the national team, he has to go back to training quickly and restore his physical fitness to the level before the injury.In Tristan's humble opinion, he might be England's once-in-a-hundred-year talent.But Tristan rarely played international games relative to his skills, and he knew that his lack of experience in this area would prevent him from being selected for the national team, whose coach was very old-fashioned.Compared with fledgling rookies, he prefers to use battle-tested veterans.Getting injured at this point will only complicate the situation, and the longer it takes to recuperate, the less likely it is that Tristan will be able to make it to the World Cup.To make matters worse, it was already March, and he hadn't found a physical therapist—or rather, his physical therapist was obviously too busy to attend to his own serious work.

Tristan looked away and looked at Lydia again. "Call Dr. Sheldon and ask where the fuck is that idiot who doesn't care."

Someone cleared his throat behind him, and said dryly, "No need, that idiot who doesn't care about shit has arrived."

Tristan made a face.Embarrassed this time.He likes to make a good impression on people he meets for the first time. After all, he still has to take care of his public image, which is a bit tricky right now.

He quickly put on a smiling expression, and then turned around.

Then, he licked his lips with the tip of his tongue, and the fake smile on his face faded by three points.

The man named Zach Hardaway was standing a few feet away. He was not very handsome, at least Tristan had seen more handsome men than him.But his body is full of strength and confidence, and that strong masculinity makes people feel that he is an extremely handsome person.He was tall, broad-shouldered, and well-muscled.Thick brown hair flecked with gold.He has light brown skin, bony cheeks, and a sharp jaw.His eyes were steel gray.The outline of the lips is very delicate, and one corner of the mouth is slightly raised, but it does not soften his tough facial features at all.He looked at Tristan, frowning slightly.

"You're leaning on one leg," he said. "Go back to the house."

Tristan blinked. "What did you say?"

Hardaway came over and squeezed the inside of Tristan's thigh, squeezing the muscle there.

Tristan gasped, his eyes widening, partly from Hardaway's sudden movement and partly from the pain. "What's wrong with you?"

"Your situation is the same as I think." Hardaway said. "You shouldn't be standing. You need to rest."

"Have you touched enough?"

Hardaway moved his hand away. "Touch? Didn't your club hire me to rehabilitate you for a third-degree groin strain? Go in and sit down. If it hurts so much to touch, then you shouldn't be standing."

Note ①: In the case of a complete rupture of the muscle bundle, surgery must be performed to heal at this time, and the recovery time usually takes about 12 weeks.

Tristan folded his arms around his chest. "Thank you for the suggestion, but I'm fine standing like this."

"My words are not a request." Hardaway said.

Tristan blushed.No one has dared to order him like this, never before.

A snicker came from behind him, which quickly turned into a dry cough - Lydia, the little traitor.

Tristan gritted his teeth, "You're fired."

"Tristan, I'm sorry—" Lydia said quickly.

"Not you," Tristan said, staring at Hardaway. "I am talking about you."

Hardaway looked unmoved.If he had to say what reaction he had, it would probably be the flash of a smile in his eyes. "I'm working as hard as I can and you can't fire me for that. Oh yes, you're not entitled to fire me at all because you're not my employer, your club is. Now, Mr Dewar, Go into the house." Hardaway's mouth slightly curled up.

God, Tristan wanted to erase Hardaway's fake smile.He glared at Hardaway angrily, and was just about to retaliate, but unexpectedly, he turned his attention directly to Lydia.

"I'm Zach Hardaway," the man smiled politely and shook Lydia's hand.

"My name is Li, Lydia Esmond." She licked her lips and said softly.Is she flirting with that man?

"Put your tongue back and wipe the drool off," Tristan told her. "You look so disgusting."

Lydia's face flushed instantly, and she glared at him angrily.

Tristan just raised an eyebrow at her with a smile.

"Why are you so short-mouthed, you brat? Do you talk like this with others?" Hardaway asked.

Tristan looked at him innocently, his eyes wide open. "Are you talking about me? I think you misunderstood me."

"Yes, I misunderstood." Hardaway looked at Tristan. "Everyone says you have a good temper and no airs. I'm quite puzzled. How come I haven't seen the person they mentioned until now?"

Tristan smiled. "You know me? Wait a minute, are you my fan?"

Hardaway pouted. "No way. I'm an Arsenal fan."

No wonder you are such an idiot.

Hardaway laughed, as if he knew what Tristan was thinking. "Even if I liked your team, I wouldn't be a fan of yours. I think your brother's game is much better than yours. Chelsea should play him as a left-winger."

Hearing this, Tristan turned pale with anger, and he clenched his fists.Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia wince.She knew that in front of Tristan, praising his adopted brother for playing better football than him, it was definitely looking for death, even if it was implied - because Gabriel was not as good as him at all, damn it!

What a good first impression, fuck your uncle.Good breeding is wasted on such a bastard.

"Oh? Really?" Tristan stepped closer to Hardaway, their faces separated by inches.At this close distance, Hardaway's stare made Tristan uneasy, but he concealed it well.In addition, Hardaway is half a head taller than him, which also makes him very unhappy.Tristan's height is pretty standard, he's not short at all, thank you.

Tristan's eyes locked with Hardaway's, and he said softly, "I want to send you a friendly piece of advice." He smiled kindly. "You know, it's actually very easy to smash someone's job. Just blow the wind in the ears of the malicious person. So, if I were you, I would be more respectful. It's always right to be careful .Speaking of which, do you always have this attitude when you talk to guests? Then I am quite surprised, you have not starved to death on the street until now?"

Hardaway narrowed his eyes, and the smile just now disappeared completely. "It's not that easy to ruin my job. It won't do much for a spoiled young master to say a few words that are not salty or tasteless."

"Really?" Tristan tilted his head. "So confident?"

"I think you might be misunderstanding something," Hardaway said slowly. "Appointments to my name are usually a couple of months away, so I don't need the job. I'm doing it for Jared Sheldon's sake. So watch out, kiddos It's not me. I'm not going to suck up to you like other people, and if you don't like—"

"How do you know?" Although Tristan was full of displeasure, he still couldn't help asking curiously: "How do you know that everyone is flattering me?"

Hardaway frowned. "Because I've heard about your 'honorable deeds.' I was warned before I took this job."

"Who?" Tristan asked, but he already had someone to suspect in his heart.Now he finally knows why Hardaway looks like this. "Could it be my brother?"

"Yes, Gabriel told me."

Tristan laughed wildly.

When he had laughed enough, Hardaway asked him: "What's so funny? Say it and let's have fun together?"

"Because everyone likes me more than him. My so-called younger brother hates this the most." Tristan raised his hand and patted Hardaway's clean-shaven cheek. "You silly wretch, Gabe is jealous of me, because I'm more talented than him, better looking than him, and smarter than him, so he's always been jealous of me."

"And you're more 'modest' than him," Hardaway said.

"Shame is not as important as everyone makes it out to be." Tristan smiled, and he looked at Hardaway with raised eyelashes.

Hardaway grabbed Tristan's wrist expressionlessly, then pushed his hand away. "You don't have to look at me that way. Your light blue eyes, though nice, don't work for me."

Tristan blinked before realizing what he was doing—or rather, trying to do.Tristan always uses tactics to achieve the purpose of making others obedient.As a result, this kind of thing has been done too much, and now it has become a trick that he will use subconsciously.

"I'm used to it," he said angrily, looking away. "And are you color-blind? My eyes are not light blue at all, but they are greenish, okay?"

"It's a weird blue anyway," Hardaway said.Tristan pulled his face longer when he heard that.Hardaway looked at his groin. "As I said, now go inside and sit down."

"As I said, I'm quite comfortable standing here." Tristan wasn't entirely telling the truth, his groin muscles were a little sore, and the pain would get worse with just a little movement.It's just that even if this crazy bastard is right, he won't admit it to death.

"It's up to you." Hardaway shrugged, he nodded to Lydia who was watching the show with a curious face, then turned and walked away.

Tristan frowned: "Where are you going?"

"Go home." Hardaway replied without looking back.

Tristan hurried to follow. "What? Then what about my injury? You didn't do anything, how could you just leave like this!"

"I only do rehabilitation for adults. I will come back when you stop playing childish and are willing to do what I say."

"I haven't said you can go yet," Tristan said with gritted teeth as he took a few steps angrily.This self righteous idiot! "I don't like to be instructed by you casually, it doesn't mean that you can take the money and not work for nothing—oh!" Tristan suddenly stopped, clutching the muscles on the upper side of his thighs with both hands, and he couldn't stop saying a bunch of words from his mouth. bad language.Unbearable sharp pain ran through his whole leg, and he fell to one knee, cursing fiercely.

Hardaway immediately ran to his side. "Damn, I told you already. What you should do is to rest your groin well, instead of putting unnecessary pressure on the injured area."

"You shut up," Tristan gasped in pain.He tried to stand up, but failed.He tried again, only to groan in pain.

Hardaway sighed. "I'm so fucking..." He bent down and picked Tristan up, threw it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and walked into the house.

"Put me down," Tristan said, flushing with shame. "I can go."

Hardaway just snorted at his protest.

"You show me the way," he said to Lydia, "to his bedroom."

"This way." Lydia walked in front of the two.At least this time, she didn't make fun of Tristan.