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Icy cold blasted through me at the mention of Katja. My heart sank. I hadn't even known she was here.
"Oh, that was nice of you."
His brows wrinkled. "Is that okay? You look pale."
I forced a smile. "Oh, of course it's okay. I just don't want anyone to see me crying and then ask why, you know? Once I get past the next few months with Worlds and the Trials, if I make it, then we'll tell people. Until then, no one. I’ll get cleaned up while you let them in."
I quickly made my way to the bathroom and shut the door. Turning on the faucet, I didn't let it warm before I cupped the cold water and splashed it on my face. The last time I saw Katja, she’d given me dirty looks and mouthed off to me in Russian. I may not speak her language, but it didn't take a genius to see she clearly had an issue with me.
I frowned as I splashed more water on my face. I really didn't want to be in her presence right now. What would I even say with the three of them talking? Maybe I could excuse myself and go to bed early.
I patted my face with a towel, then leaned on the counter and stared at my reflection. I dabbed the puffy, dark circles under my eyes with my ring finger wishing I had some dumb cream my mom—Joy—insisted I use. My nose was red from crying, and my chapped lips were a little swollen too. I needed makeup…and about seventeen hours of sleep.
When I moved into the two-room suite earlier, I’d unpacked to prepare for tomorrow so I wasn't frantically looking for things at the last minute. Typically, gymnasts weren't allowed to stay with family during a meet, only afterward, but Dad had insisted I stay with him, stating Kova had approved it. I was secretly relived. Being the only gymnast at this meet from World Cup, I was glad to not be alone where I could stew on my thoughts.
I grabbed my Louis Vuitton makeup bag and applied just enough makeup until I looked halfway decent. I threw my hair up into a messy bun then glanced down at my attire. Yoga pants and an oversized sweater would have to do. I wasn't trying to impress anyone, anyway.
Expelling a heavy breath, I opened the door and smiled, preparing for an exhausting night.
Seventeen
Kova was not his usual meet self on the second day, and I didn't like that one bit.
I fed off his energy. He gave me strength. Didn't he know that by now? He was what I needed to thrive. I was nothing in this sport without him. Nothing.
I had woken up feeling extremely emotional this morning. I hated when this happened, when these deep feelings hit, or when the littlest thing made me want to shed a bucket of tears. It wasn't often, but a few times a year I found myself more sensitive than usual, like I was due for a good purge to cleanse myself. I could definite
ly use one now, considering all things.
Sometimes being a girl sucked.
But Kova was broody and moody and walking around with a perpetual scowl since we got to the meet.
This wasn't him. He needed to get his shit together.
Last night after two hours of sitting in the same room with Dad, Kova, and Katja, I excused myself and went to bed. I'd sat with them, but mostly kept to myself reading a book on the chaise lounge. My eyes were on and off rolling shut and I couldn't take another minute. When the hardcover fell on my face and scared five years off my life, I knew I had to lay down or I wouldn't be fresh for today. They’d understood and wished me a good night, except for Katja. It wasn't like I’d participated in their conversation—I had no idea what they even talked about—but last night I got the memo quite clear. Girls always knew when another girl didn't like them, and for whatever reason, Katja seriously disliked me.
I glanced at Kova and watched him. Creases lined his forehead as he shot brief looks in my direction every few minutes. It made me wonder what he was thinking about, if it was about me, because every time our eyes met, I got the vibe his thoughts were of me.
That's it. I was going to ask him.
I sat on the floor with my duffle between my folded legs and rummaged through it for my tape and grips.
"Coach?" I said, and Kova looked at me. "Can you tape my wrists?"
He nodded without hesitation and squatted in front of me on one knee.
"Are you okay?" I asked only for his ears.
He nodded and wrapped the white tape around my wrist. "Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Because your mood is bothering me. You're not acting like you usually do when we're at meets together. I need the old Kova right now, more than ever."
He lifted his eyes but not his head. "What do you mean?"
"You're walking around like you're mad at the world. I don't like it. Did I do something wrong?"
"I am not mad."
