by Lucia Franco
“Okay. Let’s do one name at a time because you just threw like thirty at me. Core...ne—”
“Konstantin Kournakova,” I said in a terribly fake Russian accent.
“How do you spell that? There are too many vowels and corn in it.”
Rolling my eyes, I laughed under my breath from her exaggeration then spelled it out. Dead silence for a good ten seconds, then...
“Fuuuuccckkk, Adrianna, seriously.”
I chuckled into the phone. “What?” I said blandly. I knew what she was getting at.
“Fish lips and all, he’s smoking hot!”
“Fish lips? You did not just say that. He most definitely does not have fish lips.”
“So you admit to checking him out,” she replied swiftly.
“No!”
“Admit it!”
“So what? I already said he’s hot.”
Avery laughed again. “Okay—I won’t call them fish lips, but they are nice and full. Kissable.” She paused, then shouted, “Oh, my God! Coach Kissable!”
I groaned loudly. The last thing I wanted to think about was my coach’s full, kissable lips.
“And it appears he is...actually thirty-two years old.”
“Wow. If you saw him in person, you’d never guess.”
“Seriously, though. He’s fucking gorgeous. Have fun with that. I wouldn’t mind having a cheerleading coach who looked like him. Shit, I wouldn’t mind having a damn co-ed team in general. All those strong guys to lift me and then cradle me to their chests with their huge ass arms? And have you noticed how hot the guys are? What the hell are they eating to bulk up the way they do?”
“You’re crazy, Ave,” I laughed, cutting her off. Avery lusted after every boy who crossed her path. She took boy crazy to a whole new level.
Sighing, I looked around at the boxes that still needed to be unpacked.
“I need to finish getting things unpacked and hit the sack early. I have practice at 6:30 a.m., which means I need to be awake by 5:30 to get ready and be there on time.”
“Oy. Why so early?”
“Practice, lunch, school, practice again. I won’t end until close to six-ish, I think? I’m not really sure.”
“Wow. Well, try and call me tomorrow if you can.”
“Will do.”
“Have fun! And remember—snap a picture for me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Later, girl.”
The smile I heard in her voice made me miss my best friend dearly. Moving to Florida’s West Coast was my choice and something I desperately wanted. I’d prepared for it, and was ready the day it finally came, but I hadn’t anticipated missing my friend so much so soon.
I needed to stay focused on my goal, all these sacrifices would be worth it in the end.
The sun hadn’t even begun to peek above the horizon as gray clouds drifted across the charcoal sky when we pulled up to World Cup. Thomas, my driver, knew exactly where to go.
My eyes were swollen and puffy from the restless night of sleep I had. I’d been so anxious for the following morning, I tossed and turned all night in bed, thinking about how my first day would go. I was finally going to begin the next phase in my gymnastics career, and it was all I could think about. Just as I was about to fall back asleep, my alarm clock went off, jolting me upright. If I had to guess, I’d say I had about three hours total of sleep.
Stepping outside with my duffle bag, the humidity in the air smacked my face. “Bye, Alfred. I’m not sure how many hours I’ll be here, so I’ll text you when I get out.” Alfred was a personal nickname I used for Thomas. He wasn’t crazy about it, judging by his expression every time it rolled off my tongue. In fact, I think he loathed it, but went along with it to appease me.
“I’ll be on standby, Miss Rossi.”
An exasperated sigh escaped my throat. “Alfred. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Adrianna?” I had been reminding him more lately. I hated the Miss crap.
“How many times have I told you my name is Thomas?” he retorted.
My eyes narrowed, trying to appear mean, but I knew it was a piss poor job.
“Old habits.”
“I’ll try harder,” he said with a wink.
Shutting the door, the sound of fallen leaves fluttering in the wind caught my attention. I glanced over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see anything in the dark and continued on.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, I walked in front of the SUV. Thanks to the headlights shining through the window, I got a glimpse inside World Cup. When we arrived the first day, I hadn’t been able to see through the tinted glass, but the early morning hours along with the bright lights illuminated a large portion of the gym.
My eyes zoomed in on a gymnast throwing a tumbling pass. She must’ve been warming up since all she did was a round-off, back handspring, one and a half twist, and then walked off like it was nothing. It really wasn’t much on our level, but she made it look effortless. Like a ribbon floating in the wind. Beautiful, really. I could only pray I had that kind of grace. Coach Kova clapped his hands, his lips moving and head nodding in approval. I took in his attire and noticed he wasn’t wearing dress pants.
I shuffled my duffle bag around and opened the door. As I did, another hand reached above me and pushed back the metal frame. I looked over my shoulder and came face to face with muscular arms. Stepping inside, I locked eyes with the cutest boy next door smile I’d ever seen. He hardly had any clothes on: shorts, flip flops, and a loose tank top with huge arm holes. Typical South Florida beach attire.
“I got it.”
I gripped my strap tighter. “Thank you.”
“I’m Hayden,” he said, walking in closely behind.
“Adrianna.”
He smiled, and a dimple appeared in the center of his chin. “I know, we met the other day. I’m Holly’s twin.”
“Huh.” I stared at him. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
His smile grew larger. “That’s good to know. The last thing I want is to hear I look like a chick.”
Chuckling at his comment, I followed him down the hall into a small room that had two walls of lockers, one each for the boys’ and girls’ teams. He stuffed his bag into a metal cage. His movements were comfortable and natural as if he’d been doing this for ages, and maybe he had.
Hayden looked over his shoulder. “Are you nervous about today?”
I bit my lip and shuffled my feet. “Yeah, is it obvious?”
“Not really—but I just remember my first day being able to train at a new level. It’s exciting but more nerve-racking than anything.”
Hayden reached behind his head and pulled off his shirt. He rolled it into a ball and chucked it in with the rest of his stuff. It took everything in me to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor, but that didn’t mean I didn’t give him a good once over, openly gawking at his body.
“I’ll be honest...I’m petrified.”
“That’s totally normal. You’ll get past it in a couple of weeks once you’re comfortable.” He slapped his door shut. “Want a tip?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t talk back. Do what your coaches tell you. Don’t show them you’re scared. Don’t hesitate. They don’t want to hear excuses. Show them you’re confident and want to be here, that you can handle what they give you and have what it takes. Basically, just agree and nod and that will take you far. They know what they’re talking about. I’ve been through a handful of coaches at this gym, and these are by far the best.” He paused, then said something I needed to remember. “And most importantly, there will be days when you’ll want to quit because you can’t take any more. Those days will come and they’ll come often. Just don’t give up, because the reward will be worth it in the end.”
I took in Hayden’s words with a serious nod. He cupped my shoulder with compassion and said, “Good luck,” then pulled the door to the gym open and stepped inside.
Looking through the window, there was only
one girl out there, and I thought it was Reagan, but I wasn’t sure since I met her for only a split second the other day. I watched as she landed a front handspring double twisting front layout into a punch front tuck, her arms out in a T landing to balance herself, but she pulled to the right and took a large step.
“What are you waiting for?”
A deep, baritone voice startled me from behind. I jumped, looking over my shoulder as my heart raced. My hand flew to my neck. Where had he come from?
“What?” I stammered.
Konstantin tilted his head to the side, his face expressionless. “I thought you were a gymnast, not a spectator. My time is valuable. Get in the gym now or leave.”
I pulled back, my mind reeling from his unexpected nasty tone. My jaw hung open, silently moving up and down. I struggled with words, trying to find the right response. The way his eyes bore into mine made him unapproachable...And intimidating.
“Where...Where do I put my things?”
He gave me a look that said I should know where my stuff went. He hadn’t assigned me a locker, but I had a feeling mentioning that wouldn’t be good, so I didn’t bring it up.
“Okay,” I responded quietly. “Where to after that?”
“This is just like any other gym, Adrianna,” he said with a bite, rolling the R in my name. “Let this be a lesson learned after today. After you come in, you place your things in a locker, and you get your ass into the gym quickly. I do not care where you start, as long as your feet are on the blue floor every morning by six thirty and you are coming to me. Yeah?”
With wide eyes and parted lips, I nodded at his dick attitude. Coach marched off and I quickly did as he said as my knees shook. Jesus. He acted as if I was late, which I wasn’t, he just hadn’t explained what to do once I arrived.
I stripped out of my hot pink, Juicy Couture two-piece zip-up and pants set and rolled it up, shoving it into a metal locker. I’d stick it in my bag later, the last thing I wanted to do was make him wait any longer. I threw my long burgundy hair into a messy ponytail and made my way toward the gym.
Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I pushed my shoulders back, stepped into the gym and walked over to where the women’s team was. Coach stared me down, tracking my every footstep. His gaze made me feel two inches tall and insecure.
I chewed the inside of my lip as our eyes locked. His black short-sleeved shirt hugged his muscular biceps. His arms were firmly crossed in front of his chest, muscles perfectly rounded, and his stance spoke of authority. He tracked me all the way across the gym. Heads turned my way in the middle of their stretching, so I quickly tiptoed to the floor. I’d have to let Alfred know we needed to get here a little earlier tomorrow to avoid these uncomfortable stares, just in case. No one liked being the center of attention, so I needed to make sure I’d slip in quieter and unseen.
Legs spread out, I leaned forward and lay on the floor, my arms and legs parallel to each other. I expelled a breath and closed my eyes, rejoicing in what my body was doing. I loved the way my muscles pulled tight and then loosened like they were just waking up. It hurt and felt good all at the same time. Flexing and pointing helped my shins, and I pushed my legs as wide as they could go by scooting up to stretch out my groin.
I was lost in the feeling when I felt the spring floor dip as someone came up next to me and grabbed my ankle, lifting my leg.
“What the...” I mumbled under my breath. I sat up and looked over my shoulder. I almost said fuck, but I caught myself. Coach knelt so close to my face I noticed how incredible his eyes really were. A brilliant green, the color of fresh basil and lime interwoven with each other pulled me in. Mesmerizingly beautiful, and when his hand moved to the crease of my hip and thigh, I drew in a breath.
His fingers dug into my skin where my leotard met my bikini line and he carefully rotated my leg so my knee faced up.
“Back down,” Coach ordered. I had no idea what he planned, so I listened and laid my chest flat on the floor, which ended up being a good thing. I didn’t want to get caught staring into his eyes.
Or think about where his hand currently was.
Slowly, he lifted my leg and pressed down on my back so I couldn’t move. A little grunt left my lips as he stretched out my hips.
“Toes pointed, knees up, Adrianna,” he said, like I was an idiot. Maybe the arrogance in his tone was a Russian thing.
Coach slowly pulled my foot up so it was slightly higher than my back. I felt the burning stretch in my groin grow as he raised it. Unwillingly, my body tried to sit up at this tense position to ease the strain, but Coach just pressed harder on my back, not allowing me to move. I held my breath, my fingers spreading wide on the carpet and my stomach flexed. His forearm dug into my back as he leaned over and pressed me down. This shit hurt. I thought my groin was about to be ripped out, even my butt felt like the muscles were being pulled to their max.
“Breathe,” he whispered.
I groaned in the back of my throat as he lowered my foot to the floor, where I began to melt and release the tension in my muscles. It felt so good, but not for long because he switched to my other side and applied the same amount of force. This took stretching and flexibility to a whole new level for me.
“Girls, sit across from the low beam, put your toes on it and wait for me.”
Opening my eyes, I was faced with two large knees just inches from my nose. He may have been wearing workout shorts, but I could see the width of his thighs and the muscles surrounding his knees. They were huge and his legs were free of hair.
Not to mention, he smelled really good. Too good.
Twenty years later, Konstantin lowered my leg but I was stuck and stiff. Slowly, I sat up by walking my hands toward me.
“Partner up and take turns stretching out your knees. Bounce lightly, girls. We don’t need any broken knee caps.”
That accent...I was quickly realizing I liked his accent a hellava lot. Every time he opened his mouth, it begged attention. Maybe it was an American thing to like someone else’s enunciation, but then I wondered if foreigners liked American accents too. Probably not. There was nothing exotic about an American dialect. We didn’t roll our r’s the way Russians did. It would come off as a speech impediment if anything.
Moving behind me, Coach’s fingers grazed delicately down my forearm. He grasped my wrist, then reached for the other one. He carefully extended both wrists back, stretching my arms out behind me.
“Do not drop your chest. Shoulders back, back straight.”
“What are they doing?” I found myself asking as my eyes drifted over to the girls on the low balance beam just a couple of feet away.
“It is a stretching technique that overextends your knees. It helps with jumps so your legs are bowed. You have never done them before?”
“No.” I watched the girls lightly bounce on their teammates’ kneecaps. This had to be something he picked up in Russia. I could actually see their knees bending backwards as they sat like soldiers taking it. Never in my life had I seen this and I began to worry my knees would pop out.
“What happened to using two mats and putting our feet on them in splits?”
“We do that too, but I change things up and like to use my background. It is things a lot of other coaches do not do. It is a little intense, but it gets the job done.”
He let go of my arms and said, “Shake your legs out.” I bounced them lightly to a closed position so I could stand. My legs were stiff and now I had to overextend my knees even more?
A hand appeared in my vision and I reached for it. Coach helped me up, and I automatically fixed my leotard from the slight reposition.
Gymnasts picked wedgies out left and right without a second thought and kept walking. Which is what I just did. Hey—it came with the territory. Sometimes it got stuck up in there, so we had to remove it or our ass hung out.
“Reagan, please work with Adrianna, yeah?”
Reagan glared at me for some bizarre reason as I got i
nto the same position as the other girls, my toes elevated on the low beam. I ignored her. When she sat down, she didn’t hold back and bounced on my kneecaps like she was bouncing on a giant yoga ball.
It took everything in me not to scream at her and call her a bitch. I didn’t see the other girls jumping this hard, but I knew better than to complain. So I rolled both my lips between my teeth and took the newfound pain being delivered to my body.
We switched places, but I didn’t go as hard as she did. Honestly, I didn’t want to injure her.
“Harder,” Reagan demanded. “You won’t hurt me.”
I stopped and looked at her, because I was really worried I would. “You sure?”
“Yup. Just do it.” I followed her command, all the while smiling internally and taking way too much delight in inflicting a fraction of the pain she just handed to me.
After group stretching, we split up amongst the different apparatuses: vault, balance beam, floor, and the uneven bars. Coach walked over to the bars.
“Do a few warm ups and when you are ready, let me know so I can see your routine.”
“Okay,” I said, tightening my grips. Then he walked to another part of the gym.
Taking a deep breath, I watched as one of the girls warmed up on bars, doing light release moves where she flowed freely from bar to bar, giant after giant, an overshoot that involved a half-twist mid-air to the low bar, clear hip circles, where the gymnast circles backward without touching the bar to her hips, and then an easy dismount, like a back tuck. The other two girls went and then I was up. We all pretty much did the same warm ups, some adding pirouettes and other elements, but the real fun was about to begin.
A straddle back was one of my favorite skills to do on bars. It wasn’t used as often since most did the half twist mid-air to the low bar, but I loved it. There was something powerful in releasing the high bar to straddle the low bar mid-air into a handstand. It took me a while to master this move. My ankles kept hitting the bar, not to mention, initially it scared the shit out of me. Until I figured out the trick to tackling this skill was getting your hips to rise as high as you could manage by flicking them up and back, not your feet. Lifting your feet in a straddle back was a hard habit to break, but it didn’t actually pull you in the air the way your hips did like you’d think it would. Basically, I lifted my ass, stuck it up and out, and I was golden.
