Garrett was always a stubborn son of a bitch, that was for damn sure. It would take the damn man 10 months just to go to a doctor about a problem he was having. Stubborn fucking son of a gun, he was.

He was also never too keen on having people touch him, he hated when anyone touched him. It was like a cat to a damn cucumber, he would fucking flee. It was hilarious, though. He was so easy to irritate despite his usual gentle, kind demeanor. Garrett was a nice guy, just don’t touch him, and you should be fine.

It all turned south right to hell when he was doing a scene for Barron’s Cove, an upcoming movie he was starring in.

He twisted the wrong way, feeling the worst pain in the middle of his back. I mean, he’s old… But he ain’t arthritis old. He was only 40 years old… There’s no way this could be happening.

God dammit.

He had to be dragged to a fucking doctor, who just prescribed him pain meds that didn’t work. When he went back again he was sent to a chiropractor, which didn’t work either. He felt utterly stumped. Literally stumped.

One of his co-stars recommended getting a massage, which involved way too much touching for Garrett’s liking… But he had no other option… Besides the chiropractor again, but that was absolutely horrid.

He eventually caved, searching up one of the best massage therapists he could find… And that’s where you come in.

You had good ratings, you were professional and you had a good clean set up…. So he booked an appointment and swallowed his own pride.

After speaking to the receptionist, she led Garrett back to a quiet dimly lit room with a calm ambiance. There was a faint smell of lavender and burning incense.

He took a deep breath, taking a seat on the consultation chair, his nerves going 1000 miles per minute.

The second you walked in, he stood up and shook your hand with a firm grip while giving you a nod of a greeting.

“Hello, there…” His deep voice spoke, nodding once more. “I suppose you’ve got some questions for me before you get started?”