by Lucia Franco
I refused to let Reagan’s words invade my head with shit that wasn't true.
I braced myself against the sink with my other hand and inserted another finger, visualizing it was Kova's hard cock thrusting into me with pure dominance. Pressure rose as I reached that desired peak. My knees buckled, and I fell into a small state of bliss, rubbing the little bud in circles as I came hard.
"Let's go, princess!" Reagan pounded on the door, and my eyes popped open. "I don't have all day!" she yelled.
I really fucking hated her.
Chapter Twenty
Coaches always stayed on the same hotel floor as the gymnasts to make sure focus stayed strictly on the competition. There was no playing around, no staying up late. No sneaking into friends’ rooms. No laughing. We were perfect little soldiers ready for war.
The team huddled around Kova and Madeline in the hallway near our room. I snuck a look at Kova, who stood across from me. He was busy writing something on the clipboard in his hands. As if he could sense me staring, his eyes shot up and connected with mine. My cheeks heated and I quickly glanced away in embarrassment. I was afraid he’d know what I’d just done in the bathroom.
"All right, ladies." Madeline was cheerful this morning, it was the start of meet season. She took a sip of her coffee, then flipped over one of the stapled papers she had in her arm and read out loud.
"Since you guys aren't competing until about six-ish this evening, we're going to warm up in the back in the warm-up gym. It's large and we'll share it with the other competitors. We just want you guys to run through the motions and get you familiar with everything. For now, we'll have a light breakfast"—she raised her eyes above her glasses without tipping her head up—"and then head over. Kova rented an SUV so we'll drive together. I suggest texting your parents now and letting them know what time the meet starts and what the plans are, then silencing your phones and putting them away. We don't want any distractions. If they have any questions, tell them to contact me or Kova."
Within the hour, we were pulling into the gymnastics center. We parked and I took in the size of the building. It was massive. World Cup was large, but it had nothing on Parkettes. I released a sigh of longing. I couldn't wait to see how the inside faired. Teams of all levels, both male and female, made their way inside. Uniformly dressed, and ready to compete, they were picturesque mannequins.
The Parkettes Invitational was one of the oldest and most prestigious meets. They had one of the top elite programs in the world, the best elites would be competing here today. I was curious to see who I would be up against in the next few months.
"Pay close attention to those around you. Listen and watch," Kova said only for my ears. I looked toward him, but he picked up the pace and walked ahead of me. My eyes traveled the length of his backside. His tailored black dress pants fit like a glove. Too perfect, really. The slate gray polo shirt with World Cup's emblem on the front lapel was a nice contrast to his dark hair and features. He topped it off with an expensive sports coat, and I bit the side of my lip. While I loved the athletic look he typically sported at the gym, seeing him dressed up caused a thrill inside my belly.
I had a serious love-hate relationship with this guy.
I walked inside and stuffed my hands into my pockets as I observed everything around me. At first the sights and sounds overwhelmed my senses. The overabundance of colorful scrunchies holding back snug, gelled buns; giggles; praises and criticisms from coaches; applause in the distance; and classical floor music were too much. My eyes and ears were on overload. But then I focused on every sound, every detail, and it was an exhilarating rush. I smiled to myself. I couldn’t get enough. Gymnasts were everywhere.
"Hey, Madeline?" She turned and looked at me. "Should I go and sit in the stands since I'm not warming up?"
"I'm not really sure, you'd have to ask Kova."
I nodded and looked for him. It didn't take long to find him—he was already looking at me. I walked toward him, around a cluster of people. He didn’t take his eyes off me until I reached him.
I rocked back and forth on my toes, a stupid grin displayed on my face. "Where do you want me?"
Kova looked at me like the answer was obvious and I should know it. "With me, of course."
I was confused. "Just standing here? Doing nothing?"
He gave me a firm nod. "Yes." An impatient breath blew from his lips. "Did I not tell you what to do? Listen and watch. You are at an elite meet, Adrianna. You have a ton of knowledge of the sport, use it to your advantage. These are the girls you will be competing against soon."
"What should I be looking for?"
Kova stepped closer and invaded my space. His gaze bore into my eyes and he lowered his voice. "Pick apart the routines. Watch the scores. Watch the skills. Watch every event. Pay close attention to detail, be their biggest critic. Be a heartless judge. Be callous. Be cruel. Find places for improvement. Being nice will get you nowhere. Remember everything, so when you are at practice you avoid making the same mistakes. You will see a lot of the same errors, but if you look closely, you will see even worse ones. These athletes are the best of the best, but even the best make mistakes. It is easier to pick out someone else's faults than your own. Use everything you see today to your advantage. Be greedy." He lowered his voice to just above a whisper, and his eyes turned tender. "Ria, you have a dream. I am trying to make it a reality. Go with it. Please, just trust me on this."
I jerked back and gaped at Kova. He was staring down at me, looking too deeply into my eyes, trying to convey something.
It was in that moment that realization dawned on me. Everything leading up to now, to today, struck me hard, and I wasn't sure how to handle it. I felt Kova's words, his passion, his fire, his desire to give me what I wanted more than anything. He understood it because his own dream became a plan that became a reality. He had someone behind him championing him to the finish line, just like he championed me.
Sometimes the moments in life that caused the most damage to the heart put us on the path of reward and gratification. To the greatest glory. And in that moment, when Kova explained what I needed to do, I felt like everything that happened up until this point, was meant to happen. Where there was perfection, there was pain hidden in darkness. Most days were brutal, and I often questioned my sanity. Others filled with regret, but then something magical happens and everything falls into place. All the heartache and pain once dealt washes away and forgotten when that one moment you've been chasing your whole life is caught and becomes reality.
I didn't give Kova enough credit, and that bothered me. I took him for face value and didn't look beyond the words. I hated to judge a book by its cover, yet here I was constantly judging him. I was ashamed of myself. He may have a cold heart and a black soul, a cruel demeanor as a front, but beyond that was a man who cared what happened to me. He cared about my future and what mattered to me.
"What did that one author say?"
"Huh?" I tilted my head to the side, puzzled by his question. "Which author?"
"The one who invented the Harry Potter? I do not know her name, but in one of her books she wrote, 'anything is possible if you have got enough nerve.' It is true, and I have never forgotten those words. This—gymnastics—takes courage. It takes heart. And it takes nerve. You got this."
"You read Harry Potter?" I gaped at him.
He cracked a very small smile, one he'd only given me a few times when we were alone, and it seized my heart. His eyes glimmered. A laugh escaped his lips and I felt it down to my bones. "Possibly. Do you understand what I am asking of you now? Why you are here?"
I nodded. "I do now. Thank you." My eyes softened.
"I want only the best for you. You come out on top, we both come out on top."
"Sometimes you can be so nice, you know."
He chuckled. "Do not tell anyone. You will ruin my cover."
I swallowed back the knot in my throat and tried not to smile from ear to ear. My heart was so full I
thought it was going to combust. When he removed some of his layers and gave me a real glimpse of the man he was, I had an overwhelming urge to be closer to him. He was more laid back, casual, confident. Even flirtatious. He was rarely like that with me. If hundreds of people did not surround us, I would've thrown my arms around his shoulders and hugged the shit out of him.
"I don't want to distract you. Do you want me to wait outside until practice is over?" I felt like I had asked this five times already.
"I want you with me." His voice was raspy, barely above a whisper.
I knew better than to allow those words to hold more water than how he used them, but I couldn't help but hear the double meaning. When he said things like that, I think he meant it.
"Okay Kova, I'll stay." I'll do whatever you want.
* * *
For the next few hours I stayed by Kova's side. I found it difficult to walk away. When I did, he'd look for me. The thing was, I liked being near him. Not because I was insanely attracted to him, but because he knew what he was talking about when it came to gymnastics and I loved that so, so much. I wanted to see from his point of view. I became enraptured with being on the other side of the fence, watching him coach instead of taking instructions from him. I pictured myself on the greener grass wondering if I could be like him one day.
I liked watching him coach my teammates on what they needed to do at the last minute. I could hear it in his voice how much he believed in them, the way he bent at the hip and clapped his hands when a skill was executed perfectly, or when he made a fist and whispered joyous words to himself. I got a thrill out of it because he got in the zone and his true passion and colors came to life. This was his reason. His eyes lit up, and it in turn made me happy. I watched closely and I listened to everything. I’d followed his gaze and started noticing little things, things I may not have noticed before, and wondered if I made the same mistakes myself. And not just the small wobbles either. The little jerks or bends in the knees of the perfect body line required in elite gymnastics. The hips out, shoulders too low. I thought I executed it right, like I was sure they did. Now I was curious if I looked like them.
Observing them made me more aware of myself.
I started paying attention to other gymnasts warming up and picked at their routines. Every little thing mattered. Something as stupid as an undergarment showing could cause a slight deduction. I saw split leaps not reaching exactly one hundred and eighty degrees. Legs separating when transitioning to the high bar. Knees separating in a double back tuck. And sometimes there were deductions for the legs not parted enough. Missed connections on the beam where the gymnast is required to complete a series of skills without breaking between them, no step or stopping or balance check. And another mistake I noticed was taking a long pause before attempting another skill.
An over-the-top, angry voice jolted me from my observation. I leaned over and glanced down the runway, spotting a coach bent over with his hands on his knees as he yelled at a gymnast just inches from her face. Spit flew from his mouth when he spoke and she flinched. Her eyes dropped to the floor, color filled her pasty white cheeks. I was embarrassed for her. I'd been yelled at in the gym countless times, but never at a meet. She nodded her head and walked past the coach.
The young girl, who looked no more than twelve at most, mounted the low bar. I scrutinized her routine while her coach shouted from the side of the bars. Her shoulders were closed when they should have been opened, her posture was horrible, and she struggled to extend her handstands. Her amplitude was low, easily a deduction, and it made my stomach drop because I freaked she was going to hit the bar on her way down. This was not the kind of emotion one looked for while watching gymnastics. This terrified me. She cast to a handstand and completed two giants before tapping so hard on the second swing that she used her hips to gain power for the dismount. It's not something easy to spot by the untrained eye, but it was obvious to me when she dragged her toes coming down and whipped her hips hard.
The bar ricocheted as she released, echoing throughout the gym. She completed her dismount but took a huge step, her knees dropped to the floor. I sucked in a breath at how awful her landing was and the fact that her coach was no doubt about to lay into her. But those knees hitting the mat was a massive deduction, and all because she didn’t get enough power and height when she released the bar.
That was her coach’s fault. The way he berated her struck so much fear in her she couldn't concentrate enough to focus on the task at hand. A little fear was good, but she wasn't calm and collected as she performed. She was frightened and unsure of herself. The kind of mentality not meant for gymnastics. His coaching skills sucked. He started once more. Her chin trembled, and my heart ached for her and the tears she fought to hold in.
I sensed a pair of eyes on me. Kova stood off to the side observing me with his hands propped on his hips. He tilted his head and waited. His gaze bore into mine. I knew what he was expecting, but it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. I felt bad for the girl. He wanted my criticism, to take out the emotion so I could learn to recognize flaws without an ounce of compassion, something he would no doubt do. But the way the girl's shoulders hunched over…it was a sucker punch to the gut. Kova may work us to the bone, but he'd never humiliate us in public.
Kova walked toward me and followed my gaze. He did a double take, almost stumbling over his feet. He sneered and mumbled something under his breath.
"Her routine was atrocious. She did not do well under pressure. Then again, that coach is a piece of shit, so I cannot blame her."
I shook my head in sympathy. I had this overwhelming urge to go to her and give her some positive reinforcement.
"I kind of want to talk to her."
His head snapped down, and his eyes glared so bright I winced. "Adrianna, you better not go to her. Do you understand me?" Kova said through a tight jaw. His voice was so low I could barely hear him. "Do not interfere with what is going on between her and her coach. That is none of your business. Stay out of it. The last thing I need is for him to say something disrespectful to you. That guy is a dick and thinks everyone is below him."
I looked up at Kova. "Do you know him?"
He dipped his chin. "Yes. He used to coach with me. Guess it did not take him long to find another gym."
My brows shot to my hairline. "He did? When? What happened?"
"I fired him the moment I bought World Cup. I made him pack all his shit the day I signed the papers, then I kicked him to the street. All he did was degrade the girls. I have seen him physically throw and push them into things, bruise them, scream until they cried. I refused to put up with that shit," he spat.
I'd never seen that sort of thing happen, but I couldn't say it surprised me either. The rumors that floated in the gymnastics world were horrific.
Kova stepped closer to me and glanced above my head. He was quiet as he said, "Believe me, I know I have no room to talk when it comes to you, but I did not like the way he looked at the girls…it made my skin crawl. He is not right in the head—I do not trust him. He is a pig. Mark my words, someone will come forward one day and accuse him of something awful."
My heart went out to the girl. "That's terrible. I can't help but feel bad for her."
"Do not feel bad for her. Your feelings will only hinder your performance. Block out the emotion and watch how far you go in this sport. Think only about yourself and how you can better yourself."
That upset me. "I feel bad for her because I've been there, Kova. So have you. Working so hard to be the perfect gymnast and then failing. What she's doing matters so much to her. Making those mistakes hurts, especially when your coach sucks. I feel her pain."
"Yes, we all know what it feels like, but use her mistakes to improve yours. Leave your feelings at the door. You have one job to do, one chance to get it right. Adrianna, you will never get a second chance at a first impression. One chance, Adrianna. Make it count. Emotions will just screw you if you let them take o
ver. Regret forms. It drives you in a direction you are not meant to go in. Block it out. Do not let that happen. Harden yourself and keep your eye on the prize. Ruthless, yes. Cruel, yes. You need to shut down inside and only allow your love for gymnastics to shine through. Only feel the sport and the motions and use all of it to express yourself in the best way you can. That is what you need to get ahead. Trust me. It will be worth it in the end. I give you my word."
His words were a hard pill to swallow. I needed to sacrifice my emotions to win and I wasn't sure how to make that happen. Keeping myself calculated and controlled would be a hard task to achieve, but it made sense because no one thrived in the business world with emotions riding on their sleeve. In some backwards way, he had a point. It would only improve my odds of reaching the podium.
"Okay. I can try."
The coach finally stopped yelling at the girl and stood up. She picked at her nails and kept her head slanted toward the floor. He glanced in our direction and locked eyes with Kova. He pushed his chest out, and his stare was lethal.
They glared at each other until his eyes traveled down to mine and he covered my whole body with his seedy gaze. Kova stiffened next to me, his hands fisted into tight balls, turning his knuckles white. I could see what he meant now. I shivered, my stomach churning with unease. I didn't like the way he looked at me. I wanted to get as far as I could from that man.
"Go take a seat. I will be there soon," Kova said under his breath, not taking his eyes off the coach. I nodded and he walked toward the man, intent heavy in his stride. His body moved like a caged tiger. His thick legs were strong and powerful, and his shoulders swayed with persuasiveness that demanded attention. As he stopped to speak to the coach, Reagan appeared in my line of view.
My stomach pitched at her icy glare and the apple I had for breakfast suddenly felt lodged in my throat. She was malicious, and the calculating look in her eyes tangled with me. Then I remembered her little secret, and like sap dripping from a tree, the anxiety over Reagan’s accusations faded away and a smile slowly pulled at my lips.
