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“Sippin’ is sippin’.” He lifts his cup to his lips and takes a drink.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” As soon as the words leave my lips, my stomach turns.
“You good?” He chuckles.
“Uh-huh,” I admit.
“Go curl up with Kami, and I’ll bring you both some toast and pain relievers.”
“Gonna shower first,” I mumble as I set the cup down.
“She’ll still be in there. She’s watching aSay Yes to the DressMarathon.”
“Team meeting today,” I grumble.
“Ouch.”
“Yep.”
* * *
Upstairs,I turn on the shower, sticking my hand under the water until it’s scorching hot before stepping in.
Scrubbing the soreness out of my muscles from yesterday’s run with Cody doesn’t lessen the nausea that I know is part bourbon and part nerves. One p.m. feels a little like a death sentence at this point.
I worked hard over the summer, but I’m sure everyone else worked harder. I spent three hours a day, five days a week, in the gym, but I know that Bria and Hailey and the four new girls I let shadow me during their official visits probably trained more.
I didn’t really talk to anyone but Ellie, Leah, and Grace all summer, anyway. I have my friends from my gym and my coworkers at the ice cream shop, so I let myself slip into irrelevance in the gymnastic group chat. Happy birthday messages and Instagram comments were enough to remind everyone I was alive.
I love gymnastics, and knowing that I have two years left before that part is all over is more difficult than I thought it would be. More so now, after listening to the football guys talk about the combine and the hockey boys talking about who’s already signed to pro teams. Through my time with Simone, and choices I’ve made about moving on to med school, I have come to terms with it all, but …
I’m snapped out of mind-fucking my future as the water goes freezing.
“Leah!” I shout as I scramble out from under the glacial spray, mentally cursing myself as water splashes all over the newly finished floor.
I hear a faint, “Sorry!” from across the hall, but I know she’s laughing.
Bitch.
I quickly dry off as I walk out of the bathroom, into my room, and grab the black tennis dress I bought with my designated “fun money” mid-July. Leah keeps telling me I need to stop wearing Lincoln sweatpants and hoodies all the time, but I really don’t have room in my dresser after two years of bi-annual “merch Christmases.” This is the best she’s getting. I’ll wear it to class tomorrow. Today, it’s Lincoln sweatpants and a tee.
After dressing and squeezing the water out of my hair, I grab my pajamas off the bathroom floor, toss them in the laundry basket, and then flop on the bed and grab my phone from the charger.
I begin mindless scrolling through LU’s gymnastics IG and checking out my competition—I mean, my team. When I find myself being a judgmental bitch, I consider writing to Simone, but instead, I switch to the men’s hockey IG and see new pictures have been posted, and Theo Rivera is in almost every single one of them.
Fuck my life.
* * *
“Riley.”
I startle at hearing my name and sit up, looking around for my phone.
“Don’t you have to go do flips and shit?”
“Flips and shit?” Ellie laughs from her room.
“Flips and shit,” Leah reaffirms.
