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He went straight into full swings, handstands, and flips, warming up his body. My jaw went slack. He maneuvered the rings with precision, like a champ. I’d never seen him use any apparatus at practice before. He was focused, completely unaware anyone was watching. And I was happy he was oblivious. I was mesmerized by the sight before me. He had such grace and beauty coiled in his toned body that I think if he knew anyone was watching he’d st
op. His control was remarkable at his age. Thirty-two wasn’t old by any means, but for a gymnast it was ancient. Christ, eighteen was over the hill.
Most gymnasts retired around the age of eighteen, very few made it to their mid twenties. Not by choice, but because their bodies could no longer handle the physical strain and demand of the sport. Almost always, there was an injury we sustained.
We defied gravity on the floor with insane jaw dropping tumbling passes, ran toward stationary objects to flip over, and balanced on a four-inch piece of wood with turns, tucks, and fulls. All the while killing our backs and feet from landings and dismounts. The impact shocked our ankles and zoomed up our spines, making us wince in pain. But we grinned and dealt with it and did what we were born to do, because we couldn’t imagine life without it. Just as Kova was doing now. He couldn’t let go.
Kova pulled up into a handstand then slowly extended his arms out to the sides so now he was in an upside down T, his back facing me. His body was pulled tight and locked solid. Roped muscles in his shoulders jutted out, and cut sharp as he began to slowly lower his body into a plank position. I held my breath as I watched. The skill was not an easy one to master. I’d seen teammates shake from the brute strength it took to hold this form. But Kova didn’t move, he didn’t shake. His arms were as steady as the rest of his body. There was no blowing like a leaf, as he once said I had on beam. It was beyond remarkable my coach could still do a skill of this capacity.
With incredible accuracy and control, he rotated his arms just a fraction so they were turned out. From his sculpted shoulders to the veins that snaked around his arms, he didn’t waver in his hold. It was utterly fascinating. His body exuded raw power and strength, and it was beautifully captivating. Remarkable. I’ve tried so hard not to associate Kova with anything other than him being my gymnastics coach. But seeing his determination and fight to make me a better gymnast on a daily basis compelled me to think of him in more ways than I should. And now, with how he was conveying control without anyone around, it was hard to see him as just my coach.
Once in a forward facing T, he pulled his legs up into a pike position. My gaze traveled down his solid chest, taking in his lean abdomen.
And my mouth gaped open, a gush of hot air rolling off my lips.
Mother of all hell.
There was a fairly large Olympic ring tattoo on the left side of his ribs. Unlike the colorful rings the symbol was known for, Kova’s five ring tattoo was in solid black. And with each breath he took, the tattoo moved as if it were floating on his skin.
Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I was gawking at his body, and it was hard to tear my gaze away. The tattoo and placement was unbelievably sexy. It upped his hot factor by ten million, not that he needed it.
Suddenly, he began swinging hard in circles and then landed a back tuck dismount. His feet pounded the ground, the chalk lifting in the air from impact. He rose to his full height, eyes closed and shoulders rolled back as his chest expanded from deep breaths. The tattoo grew then shrunk with each breath he took. It was almost impossible to tear my eyes from his ribs. My gaze traveled down his waist to where his shorts sat extremely low. He had those indents on his hips that formed a V, and my God, my mouth started to water.
For a split moment, I forgot he was my coach. I pictured myself running my hands slowly up his stomach, massaging his worn muscles, before tracing his tattoo and exploring his body. My fingers gliding over his arms, roaming over his shoulders in the dark where no one could see us.
Ten more minutes passed while I secretly watched Kova as just him, a man on the rings, and nothing more. I didn’t move a muscle, just watched in awe...until my phone started ringing.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Grabbing my cell, I silenced my mom then looked back over to the rings to see him glaring at me from under the apparatus. Standing up, I had no choice but to walk over to him.
Kova let go of the rings, whipped his hands back and forth, and firmly crossed his arms in front of his bare chest, his stance intimidating as he stood under the rings. His biceps grabbed my attention and I could feel his searing, pissed gaze focused on my face.
“Adrianna,” he stated more than called my name.
“Coach.”
“What are you doing here?” He asked, dropping his arms to rub his wrists then crossed his hands behind him, his pecs flexing. I openly raked my eyes down the length of his gorgeous body. There was no way not to, and honestly, I didn’t care that he saw me do it.
I shrugged, closing the distance between us. “I needed to think. Sometimes I like coming here when it’s empty.”
“So you come to the gym to just lie on the floor?”
He was skeptical. It was obvious, but I told him the truth. He could decide what to do with it.
“I do...I feel free in the dark, no one here to judge me,” I said, pinning him with honest eyes.
“But you are lying on the floor?”
I let it all out. “Exactly. No one can say I’m doing anything wrong, that my form is incorrect, or how my legs aren’t locked. Stupid things I already know. I’m not fearful I’ll slip on the beam, or I’m not blocking hard enough on vault. No one to make me feel like I’m not good enough, that I’m not graceful enough. There’s no one to hate the ground I walk on in here when I’m alone. No one can see me in the dark to point out my imperfections. It’s just me and the gym, all by myself to do as I please.”
He almost looked remorseful at my admission. “And you cannot do this at home?”
I looked away to conceal my emotions. “No, it’s too quiet there. Usually the loneliness doesn’t bother me and I embrace it. Some nights it gets to be too much, so I run away and come here,” I finished quietly. “The oddness of it all, I feel more at home here than anywhere else. Tonight, the silence in my condo was deafening and I needed to get out. The gym speaks to me. ”
“Hey,” he said, taking a step toward me so he was only inches away. “It is okay. I understand why you are here alone. Why do you think I am here?” His eyes locked with mine, and through the muted lights a shadow covered half his face as something stirred between us. My heart stammered, feeling it, and I knew he felt it too by the look of his dilating pupils that took up most of his bright eyes. His jaw locked, shifting back and forth.
Time stood still.
