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I didn’t want to appear weak, but there was no way to stop another warm tear from rolling down my cheek. Kova’s eyes darkened, his jaw set tight. He glanced at Reagan for a long moment before giving me one more look. This time it was filled with concern that caused my belly to clench. His gaze said more than I think he wanted to give away.
Before turning toward the bars, I wiped the tears away so Reagan wouldn’t see she got to me. I refused to show her she’d won this battle.
But she wouldn’t win the war.
Three long-assed weeks passed by where Kova and I skated around each other. To be fair, I kept my focus primarily on gymnastics.
It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. In fact, it was downright hard. Being in a gym and training for nearly fifty hours a week was a daunting task alone. I’d been taking extra dance classes and spending hours transforming my body just so I could reach Kova’s standards. Sadly, I didn’t know if I’d ever meet them, because he sure as hell wouldn’t tell me.
Add in an illicit act between a coach and his athlete and see where that got you. Especially an athlete he has to personally train for a number of those hours.
I’d caught him sneaking glances, touching me more than needed during gym, practices lasting longer. In his defense, I’d been doing the same thing to him. The tension was mounting between us, but where was it going? There was no outlet for any of it. It was just brewing, the pressure building to an unhealthy level.
Worst of all, I started to worry if anyone else noticed. Especially after the comments Reagan made.
Things were getting to me. Not to mention, I was almost positive there was something wrong with my calf, which wasn’t helping the situation—or my life. The pain would come and go in the beginning, so I tended not to focus on it. But now that it was starting to appear more often than not, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was something serious. It was stressing me out more than ever. My mind was on edge with all the thoughts running through it, and the silence of my condo was eating at me.
Today was my one day off. I’d been restless, all alone and nothing to fill the void. I needed to get out. Avery was nowhere to be found, which was pissing me off. If I knew her, there was a good chance she was with her mystery guy. She’d given me the fuck you button a few times already. I cleaned every square inch I could and there was nothing on Netflix worth watching. I even tried to read a book in hopes it would help me escape the monotony of my life.
Nothing helped.
I was beginning to drive myself crazy over everything that had happened since arriving at World Cup. My head was pounding. I needed to zone out and forget about it all, and the one thing that would allow me any form of relief was gymnastics.
I wanted to train, I needed to. I needed the release it brought on.
Pulling open the door to the gym, I blew an unruly auburn strand of hair from my face. The gym was typically closed on Sunday, which meant I would be alone and without the constant observation from my team and coaches.
Just what I wanted.
Flipping on the lights in the dance room, I dropped my stuff on the wood floor and walked to the shelf that held the radio. Funny how Kova had radios in the actual gym, but he wouldn’t put one in the therapy room. I needed music, otherwise the silence would ruin my train of thought.
&n
bsp; I decided I’d work on the skills I learned in the stupid ballet classes I was forced to take. I wondered how much longer I’d have to take them. They weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be, I just didn’t care for them. Maybe this was what separated me from being a mediocre gymnast and an incredible gymnast in Kova’s eyes. It was no secret I hated ballet, but I wasn’t naive enough to think I didn’t need it anymore. I hated admitting ballet played a large part in gymnastics. The components had not only increased my flexibility and balance, but the coordination and discipline required made a huge difference, especially on the floor.
Dance, primarily ballet, corrected my posture that was thrown off by the constant bending and twisting of gymnastics. Just like ballerinas, gymnasts needed to be tight with every movement—eliminating unwanted movement—control. Spotting a sloppy dancer was easy, even to an untrained eye. Gymnastics was the same way and it all started with building my core.
After pushing a few buttons, Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding vibrated through the speakers, rejuvenating my spirit in its wake. I felt a hundred times better already and allowed her poetic voice to take me away.
“YOU ARE DROPPING your chest.”
I jumped, snapping my back leg down and spinning around in fear, my heart racing. Kova’s unsympathetic voice startled me out of my concentration and I stared straight at him like a deer in headlights.
“What?” I asked breathlessly.
“Your chest. You are dropping your chest,” he stated for the second time.
He casually leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. He took in the length of my body with a long gaze. Instead of a leotard, I went with black mini workout shorts and a green sports bra. Moisture dampened my skin as sweat trickled down the small of my back. I’d removed my oversized T-shirt earlier, throwing it to the ground. My long hair was thrown into a messy bun at the top of my head. Little hairs had slipped out I hadn’t cared to fix.
I thought about what Kova said and I nearly growled. This man. I swear, he did everything he could to get under my skin. I most definitely was not dropping my chest.
“No, I’m not.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up, as if to say, Are you really going to challenge me?
Dropping his arms, Kova prowled forward with determination. Each step made my heart beat a little faster. My skin prickled as he neared me, vibrations coursed through my body. I was suddenly hyperaware of his presence and how secluded we were in the dance room.
“Yes, you are,” he countered. “Do it again.”
