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Lifting the stopper with my toes, I let the water drain and said, "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Bye, Coach."
* * *
I chalked up my hands then spit on my palms before submerging them back into the huge chalk bowl once more. I moved them around under the mound of powdery chalk to build up a thick coat, clapped my hands together, and then pulled on my grips. Leaning my face into my shoulder, I coughed.
With vault under my belt, I had three rotations left for this competition: Bars, beam, then floor.
I was in first place after one rotation, which wasn't really a surprise. Vault was my specialty, and very few gymnasts could do what I could with a clean landing. I was only two-tenths away from a perfect score, but I'd take it. I had worked hard for that vault, no one was going to take it from me.
"Do you want me to spot you?" Kova asked when he walked up to the bowl.
I shook my head, flexing my fingers to make sure my grips were on just right. "Nope. I got this."
"Are you sure? I can be there if you need me, or if you would rather Madeline, she can as well."
It would be nice to fuck with Kova and have Madeline in his place, but I wouldn’t go there. This was too important for both of us to play childish games.
"I'm good, Coach. Thanks," I replied as if I was talking about the weather.
Kova stared at me for a long moment, not blinking once. "Okay. If that is what you want."
"What I want never matters." With a saccharine smile, I walked away.
I was surprised by how much Kova had backed off. He hadn't so much as been flirty, or shown me a sarcastic side of him, and he hadn't given me any encouraging pep talks before each event. Even though I did sort of miss those little moments with him, I was relieved. It was helping me focus.
Between arriving at his house last night with the team, flying out of state, to now, we’d spoken maybe five words to each other. That showed me he had at least an ounce of respect for my boundaries.
Baby steps.
Reagan landed her dismount, her feet slamming into the mat. Chalk rebounded around her calves as she saluted the judges.
Taking a deep breath, I walked onto the mat and stared at the uneven bars, visualizing my routine. I let everything roll off my shoulders and exhaled what little nerves I had left.
My dismount was more difficult than Reagan's, but her routine had a slight edge over mine. It really came down to execution. Come next week, though, I had planned to add another element or two and a change to my dismount that would kick up my difficulty score by a lot. Once I mastered those skills, which shouldn't take more than a week, I'd outrank my teammates on vault and bars. I also had plans to add one more tweak to my floor routine that would put me in a league of my own.
Until then, now was the time to risk it all and do whatever it took to prove I had it in me to go the extra ten miles.
The judges gave me the green light and I raised my arms. Clearing my mind, I mounted the low bar. I had approximately forty seconds to complete seventeen skills effortlessly while floating from one bar to the next. With pirouettes and twists, and multiple release moves paired together for extra points, I pushed hard and moved freely and elegantly between the six-foot-width distance. My form was tight, with my body elongated in handstands, and toes pointed. I prepared for my dismount, tapping hard to gain momentum, and released on my second rotation. I soared through the air, flipping backwards and twisting, knowing in the back of my head I had to reach a height and distance acceptable for max points. Spotting the ground, I landed, sticking my dismount with both feet together. I swallowed, saluted the judges, and finally exhaled.
I felt good, really good.
Trying to catch my breath, I walked off the mat and peeled back the Velcro strips of my grips and replayed my routine, wondering if anything was off. I stepped down from the platform, shoving one grip and wristband under my arm when Kova rushed up to me with wide, wild eyes.
I glanced up and my movements slowed. Dread filled my stomach. Shit.
"How bad," I croaked.
His brows furrowed and he pulled back. "Bad? No." He almost laughed. "Not bad at all."
"Then why do you look so panicked?"
"I am speechless."
I pulled off my other grip and walked around him toward my duffle bag. "Your words are not matching your expression," I said sarcastically. "I hate when you get like this."
He brushed my comment off. "Between vault, and now bars, I just have never seen you perform so… incredibly."
I looked at him in confusion. "I've done well at previous meets, though."
