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If I was going to push it like I told myself I would, I needed some backup, just in case.
Later that afternoon, I called my mom and told her I was done with the fresh food deliveries. They were disgusting and I wasn’t going to eat them anymore. I wasn’t an idiot. I could read; therefore, I could cook. It wasn’t rocket science, and, if anything, the internet was always a click away. To say she wasn’t happy was an understatement. She flipped out and said I was going to get fat because I didn’t know how to food shop properly, let alone cook. Hysterically enough, neither did she. Mom went on and on about how only fat girls eat late at night and to stay away from dairy, carbs, and sugar, otherwise I would have cellulite on the back of my thighs and saddle bags within six months. She wanted updates on my weight, and she was going to call my coaches to make sure they were watching out for me.
I told her to fuck off. Then I went to the grocery store, and while I was there buying food I wanted to eat for once, I texted her a picture of a chocolate ice cream container in my shopping cart.
I didn’t buy it though. I just wanted to aggravate her.
I did, however, buy some good dark chocolate.
I was on a mission with a one-track mind to rid myself of negative crap and people, like Kova and my mom. It was the only way I could move on, otherwise it would hold me back more and more each day. I was putting a stop to everyone holding me back.
That earned me a call from my dad. Not the “fuck off” comment, the ice cream picture. Go figure. He didn’t even know about that.
I spent the rest of the afternoon getting caught up on schoolwork. I made a bunch of premade recipes I found online and stuck them in Tupperware labeled with Post-it notes. I searched new conditioning techniques for gymnasts online. Not that I didn’t already know what to do, I did, but it was good to change things up. That way I would find new muscles to work. I screenshot the skills and marked them as favorites, then went to bed early. I was ready to let the beast inside of me out and prove just how resilient I was.
I took in everything he said. Kova saw me. He saw me.I wanted so badly to throw my arms around his shoulders, bury my face in the crook of his neck, and thank him for seeing me, for understanding me. I wish I had a reason why when he spoke to me it mattered so much, but I didn’t.
I realized I didn’t need one. It was in his touch when he spoke. The honest, indisputable look in his empathetic eyes when he looked at me. His relentless commitment to me and the sport. It was all there. Kova paid attention to me. He didn’t look over me.
It was all-consuming. As a coach, he was supposed to see me differently, learn my flaws and polish them. But this was singular, more intimate than a coach. Not in a carnal way, but in the way of someone who cared about another person and wanted to see them flourish.
When I planned to come in today, I had it all mapped out.
I’d designate a specific amount of time to each event, working on skills I knew needed attention, followed up with intense conditioning and drills, then I’d run a couple of miles.
Naturally, Kova had other plans.
Plans to break me on beam.
Plans to break me on bars.
Plans to work every single muscle in my body until I was depleted.
Plans for me to be so unbelievably sore that, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be able to attend practice the next day.
Plans that included everything I wanted to do, and then afterward, endure his satanic practices.
This next cut was another puzzle piece meant for Execution with the intention of showing the inner turmoil Kova exuded when he was intimate with Adrianna in her condo. This scene was difficult to remove. I relished in his anguish and the torment in his body language through Adrianna’s eyes. It was raw and one of those few, rare moments he expressed himself.
Kova’s feelings were deepening, further complicating the situation. He’d attempted in his own fashion to stop the affair between them. But she needed him in a way only he could help, even if it destroyed him. And he was going to give her whatever she needed.
I woke with lingering exhaustion—and a sweet ache between my legs. Something that seemed to happen when Kova was around.
I’d fallen asleep shortly after Kova climbed into my bed, and I woke sometime well after midnight with a dry mouth, a headache, and Kova nowhere in sight.
My heart dropped into a void of emptiness. He’d left me.
I struggled to fall back to sleep, my mind replaying his adamant refusal I hadn’t picked up on. The more I thought about it, the more it hurt that he was truly trying to put a stop to us. Avery’s phone call was still hurting my heart too, and then a bunch of pointless bullshit kept me wide awake for hours after.
I yawned and released a sigh. I felt guilty. I shouldn’t have pushed him. I’d already apologized to Kova, but I felt like it wasn’t enough for him.
I finally got out of bed to get a glass of water. My throat was so soar it hurt to swallow. I needed something cold. I walked into the living room and halted after a few steps, my lips parting. Kova was on the couch.
He hadn’t left me.
My gaze shifted to the coffee table. His phone was vibrating, the screen lighting up the space around him. Kova had an arm thrown over his head and one leg cocked up to the side against a cushion. His face was knotted with torment and I felt it in my chest. He was still reeling from us.
I stepped closer and he sensed it. Kova picked his head up and looked in my direction. My teeth clamped down on the inside of my cheek. Our eyes locked for a moment before he brushed me off with a swipe of his hand.
