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Katja’s perfectly tweezed eyebrows angled toward each other. "To help curb your appetite?" Her eyes roamed down my body, then back up to meet mine. "So what Kova tells me is truth?"
Paranoia struck again, but I maintained my composure and kept my face neutral.
"I'm not sure. It depends on what he told you about me. I allowed a hint of uncertainty to layer each word.
"No, he did not tell me about you, but how gymnasts in general must keep an extremely strict diet. I knew some coaches enforced it, but I have always been curious about how the parents handled things behind closed doors, if they are strict or not."
We walked side by side toward the kitchen. "Oh, well, I can't speak for others, but my mom is extreme. She'll test any diet fad out to lose a few pounds. And if it works for her, she assumes it will work for me, and usually has me on it too. The only difference is that I'll eat when she's not looking so she thinks the diet isn't working."
We stepped into the kitchen together. I glanced at the group and said hi. My eyes softened when I spotted Hayden and I smiled at him.
"But why would you ever do that?" Katja continued.
I shrugged as if it was obvious and leaned against the marble countertop. "I wanted her to stop using me as her guinea pig and get off my back."
"Is she really all that bad?"
"Sometimes." I gave her an honest answer.
"Is who that bad?" Kova asked as he strolled into the kitchen. Good God, my blood pressure skyrocketed being this close to him and Katja at the same time. How does he stay cool and collected?
"My lovely mother and her obnoxious diet fads."
"Ahh. Joy. Does she still have those special meals ordered and delivered to you? I remember that being mentioned when you first arrived at World Cup," Kova asked. There was a distinct glimmer in his gaze that gave me such a rush. I tried not to smile like an imbecile, obnoxious teen but failed miserably. I liked that he remembered.
"Yes, but I do my own food shopping now," I answered. Kova's gaze shifted from me to his girlfriend. Katja handed me a cup of coffee, then leaned her elbows on the counter. We were shoulder to shoulder when a strong fragrance assailed me. I closed my eyes and inhaled, trying to sort out the scents. Jasmine and hydrangeas mixed with vanilla coffee. It was the most intoxicating aroma I'd ever smelled, and it seeped from Katja’s skin.
I frowned and opened my eyes just in time to see Kova step to Katja. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and dropped his chin onto the curve of her shoulder as he gave her the warmest hug. My stomach flipped when he looked at me, a reserved smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. I’d love to know what he was thinking. If he took satisfaction in me and his girlfriend being in the same room together. The urge to turn away was strong, but I knew I had to fight it, otherwise it would look odd.
"I am sure you can afford to eat whatev
er you want," Katja said, and took a sip of her coffee. "You are young and athletic. You have a great shape to your body."
"Yes, she is in terrific shape," Kova added, too pleased with himself. "Perfect for the sport. She is much better now than when she first came to me."
My cheeks flushed and I gave them a timid smile. "I guess."
"Ah, that is because you have a gifted touch and a sight unparalleled to others when it comes to the gym, statnyy."
Kova chuckled under his breath. I wish I knew what that word meant. "You flatter me." His voice was low and rough, and it tugged at something deep inside me. He kissed the corner of her mouth and she gave him a sultry smile in return.
"Katja, what kind of perfume do you use? I love the smell," I asked to distract my thoughts.
She turned and smiled sweetly. "Oh, I do not use perfume."
Kova snuggled her closer. I didn't understand.
"It is her body wash. I have it shipped in from Russia for her," he offered up.
Ah, okay. "That's cool." I wasn’t sure how else to respond to that.
They probably took a shower together this morning and he washed her body with her special smelly shit. I kept my grimace to myself.
"Why are you wearing that?" Reagan walked over to us with her nose pointed high in the air. I'd never been so relieved to see her until now.
I glanced down at my attire, then at hers. She wore the custom team uniform typical when traveling for gymnastics competitions, where I was in boots with knitted socks, dark jeans, long-sleeved shirt, and a chunky scarf. I didn't like to be cold.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked, confused. "You realize we're going to Pennsylvania in February, right? It's going to be freezing."
