Yet still, my coach will push. He will push until my feet bleed, until my back aches, until my body can’t take it any longer. Then, and only then, will he tell me that I did okay. Never good, just okay. It doesn’t matter that I’m his champion, he’ll never let me hold that title with pride, it will always come with some twisted stab at my self-esteem.
“What has gotten into you today?”
His voice is rough, and for a small man, he can be quite intimidating. His brown eyes narrow, causing his nose to pinch, and his face scrunches with rage that I just know he wants to unleash.
“I’m trying, Brady,” I mutter, pushing off the rail and shaking my head in frustration.
“If that’s trying, then we all might as well go home and be done with your career because it’s fucking not even close to being good enough.”
Breathe, Grace.
“I’m not feeling well, can we pick up tomorrow?”
His eyes flash, like he’s trying with all his might to hold something in, something he knows isn’t worth releasing because my father would murder him where he stands. After all, without my father, this man wouldn’t be getting paid what he is to make me the best.
Money makes the world go round, and all that.
“You’re leaving tomorrow, or have you forgotten?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t forgotten, but I’m still unsure why we all need to go on a fucking vacation right now, when the showcase is a matter of months away.”
“You’re telling me,” Brady mutters. “That one is on your father.”
My father, one of the most powerful men in this town, decided a few weeks ago that he was going to send me and my team on a vacation. Considering my father has never, not even once, sent me away for anything nice, I am more than a little sceptical. Dancing has been everything to him since he figured out I could move right. And he doesn’t let me miss a single practice unless I am absolutely unable to move. It’s just lucky I love it, because otherwise it would destroy me.
It isn’t dedication to him, it’s control.
Brady does the thing where his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth and it is clear he has plenty to say, but chooses not to. Instead, he just throws his hands up and stalks into his little glass office. I don’t bother saying goodbye. I grab my bag, wipe the sweat from my shoulders and face, and make for the back doors before anyone else stops me.
Out in the hallway, I run into the only people in the world I actually want to see. Not just teammates, but my best friends. Tatiana scrolls on her phone, her long black hair swaying down near her lower back as she leans against the wall. Her lashes are thick enough to make her eyes look bigger than they are, and when she looks up, the beautiful, slanted shape reminds me that her oriental background only makes her that much more spectacular.
Next to her, Aggie stands, her long, thick red hair tied up, curling around her shoulders. Her skin, more pale today than usual, glistens under the dull light, telling me she just had adifficult practice, too. She looks up at me when I walk out, her emerald green eyes pinning me, and then softening when she realizes I’m alone.
Nobody likes to talk with Brady around.
“Brady was in quite the mood today,” Aggie mumbles. “For once, I was glad not to have him.”
I snort. “He is less than pleased we are going away.”
We start toward the locker room, muscle memory guiding us past all the trophies lining the wall. My name on three of them. My father’s name on the brass plaque above all of it, for ‘generosity and support.’
Tati rolls her eyes, walking with such grace it’s almost like she’s gliding. “Gosh, he is such a bitch sometimes.”
She’s not wrong.
The three of us sink down onto the old worn bench, letting the aching silence fill up our lungs. Then it’s Tatiana who finally says, “You packed yet?”
I exhale. We’re all supposed to be excited about this ridiculous trip, which still makes very little sense to me. It is without a doubt some kind of publicity stunt. We’re going on a private yacht, for a week of luxury relaxation, and yet I’m more than sure when we get there, we’ll be greeted by some unknown surprise.
“Almost,” I lie. “Still narrowing down what to bring. Considering they’re not really giving details other than luxury yacht, it makes it difficult.”
Aggie sighs, leaning back. “Well, I don’t plan on getting out of my bikini. I can’t believe we’re taking Rachel and Iris, though. Your dad knows those two hate us, right? They’ll probably throw us off the yacht in the middle of the ocean.”
I laugh, tying my hair. “Oh, trust me, I’ve made it known I’m not happy about it but they’re on the ‘team’ which means wedon’t have a choice. But don’t worry, I’ll be throwing them over the side long before they get their hands on me.”
We all laugh, and for a second, it almost feels like we’re just girls. Not investments, or trophies, or elite athletes. Just normal, everyday girls about to go on a vacation.
If only.
