Balance (Off Balance Book 1)

by Lucia Franco

  Tightening my ponytail, I gripped the low bar and swung into a glide kip. With my hips back, I extended my legs as far as they could go so I was in a perfect horizontal line, and felt the pull in my stomach. I brought my toes to the bar and piked to a kip, then cast to a handstand, holding it for three seconds, before doing a glide kip out so my arms were straight and my thighs rested very lightly on the bar.

  I turned to Reagan. “Guess this means Coach will just be giving me more attention since I’m without my grips today.”

  Casting to a handstand on the low bar once again, I piked down and swung around in a straddle position and released the low bar. With my hips high in the air, I twisted my body completely around and reached for the high bar.

  Chalk sprinkled down lightly when I grasped the bar, and I closed my eyes. Doing a few light release moves allowed me to warm up as I swung from bar to bar with ease, while it stretched out my sore muscles. It felt good, and I had to admit I loved the pull on my body. Everything just faded away. It was like a stress reliever and I embraced it every single time. Especially now.

  I warmed up with a few handstands and pirouettes, making sure I hit them in vertical, then a Giant to a flyaway dismount. I warmed up once more and decided instead of doing a flyaway again, I would go for a double layout. It wasn’t really common in a warm up, but it was something I mastered long ago and could do in my sleep.

  Two Giants completed, I released. The bar ricocheted loudly, springs bouncing. I flew through the air, making sure I kept my body straight as a board and my hips opened while I flipped back two times before driving my heels into the ground. I landed with a slight wobble. A rolling flame of heat shot up my calf, but I forced it out of my head.

  “Nice, Aid!” Hayden yelled excitedly as he walked over to the pommel horse.

  All Reagan could manage was a glare. Before I could say anything, Coach Kova yelled across the gym, “Nice job, Adrianna. Tighten up a little more.”

  Naturally he saw my wobble, but nothing got past the man. “It was just a warm up, Coach.” I responded back and he nodded in approval, his eyes gleaming with contentment.

  That was the first real thing Kova had said to me in weeks. I needed it, I needed his backing after what Reagan said. I needed to know I was making progress in his eyes, that my hard work did not go unnoticed. Other than commands about gymnastics skills, we hardly spoke. I’d come to accept his stiff personality after what happened between us.

  I turned and smiled brightly at a seething Reagan, who stepped around to mount the bar and begin her routine. But just before she did, she threw an extra set of grips at my feet.

  “You know, Coach works with you the way he does because he feels bad. You’re not good enough to be here, and it’s obvious you never will be. Why do you think he puts in so much time with you? It’s the same way with Hayden. Holly told me Hayden said you have no friends and you’re alone all the time, so he’s friends with you out of pity. I’m not surprised, though. Hayden’s a good guy. It’s in his nature to go out of his way to help those in need.”

  The satisfaction I felt moments earlier was gone. Tears pooled in my eyes again at her heartless words. Months of hard work and emotional avoidance bubbled at the surface. I didn’t want to cry, but her words stung and I felt them ready to spill over.

  “No one here likes you, and the one friend you have isn’t a real one. Your coach and your only friend have no faith in you whatsoever.” She laughed, mockingly. “You should just leave now. You’ll never amount to being an Olympic gymnast, Adrianna Rossi. You don’t have what it takes and you never will.”

  With that, she smiled and turned to mount the bar. I walked back over to the chalk bowl, my heart pounding against my chest. I was sick to my stomach. Her words rang in my ears, getting louder and heavier. They couldn’t be true.

  A fat tear slipped down my cheek at the reality of my life and I quickly wiped it away. Embarrassment over forgetting my grips clogged my throat, and my chest tightened from the humiliation Reagan just dealt me. I was suffocating in a bowl of fucking chalk. Somehow I had been completely oblivious to my surroundings. I’d been used to snotty girls back home, but Reagan was a true mean girl, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I’ve been taught to handle things with poise and control, not act like a loose cannon, but her words were cruel and they struck deep. All I wanted to do was retaliate.

  But I didn’t. Instead, I took the higher road and began powdering my hands as another tear fell into the bowl, her words repeating in my head.

  Taking a deep breath, I exhaled and let all the bullshit out. I looked up at the gym around me and locked eyes with Kova, who was staring at me intently.

  I didn’t want to appear weak, but there was no way to stop another warm tear from rolling down my cheek. Kova’s eyes darkened, his jaw set tight. He glanced at Reagan for a long moment before giving me one more look. This time it was filled with concern that caused my belly to clench. His gaze said more than I think he wanted to give away.

  Before turning toward the bars, I wiped the tears away so Reagan wouldn’t see she got to me. I refused to show her she’d won this battle.

  But she wouldn’t win the war.

  Three long-assed weeks passed by where Kova and I skated around each other. To be fair, I kept my focus primarily on gymnastics.

  It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. In fact, it was downright hard. Being in a gym and training for nearly fifty hours a week was a daunting task alone. I’d been taking extra dance classes and spending hours transforming my body just so I could reach Kova’s standards. Sadly, I didn’t know if I’d ever meet them, because he sure as hell wouldn’t tell me.

  Add in an illicit act between a coach and his athlete and see where that got you. Especially an athlete he has to personally train for a number of those hours.

  I’d caught him sneaking glances, touching me more than needed during gym, practices lasting longer. In his defense, I’d been doing the same thing to him. The tension was mounting between us, but where was it going? There was no outlet for any of it. It was just brewing, the pressure building to an unhealthy level.

  Worst of all, I started to worry if anyone else noticed. Especially after the comments Reagan made.

  Things were getting to me. Not to mention, I was almost positive there was something wrong with my calf, which wasn’t helping the situation—or my life. The pain would come and go in the beginning, so I tended not to focus on it. But now that it was starting to appear more often than not, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was something serious. It was stressing me out more than ever. My mind was on edge with all the thoughts running through it, and the silence of my condo was eating at me.

  Today was my one day off. I’d been restless, all alone and nothing to fill the void. I needed to get out. Avery was nowhere to be found, which was pissing me off. If I knew her, there was a good chance she was with her mystery guy. She’d given me the fuck you button a few times already. I cleaned every square inch I could and there was nothing on Netflix worth watching. I even tried to read a book in hopes it would help me escape the monotony of my life.

  Nothing helped.

  I was beginning to drive myself crazy over everything that had happened since arriving at World Cup. My head was pounding. I needed to zone out and forget about it all, and the one thing that would allow me any form of relief was gymnastics.

  I wanted to train, I needed to. I needed the release it brought on.

  Pulling open the door to the gym, I blew an unruly auburn strand of hair from my face. The gym was typically closed on Sunday, which meant I would be alone and without the constant observation from my team and coaches.

  Just what I wanted.

  Flipping on the lights in the dance room, I dropped my stuff on the wood floor and walked to the shelf that held the radio. Funny how Kova had radios in the actual gym, but he wouldn’t put one in the therapy room. I needed music, otherwise the silence would ruin my train of thought.

&n
bsp; I decided I’d work on the skills I learned in the stupid ballet classes I was forced to take. I wondered how much longer I’d have to take them. They weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be, I just didn’t care for them. Maybe this was what separated me from being a mediocre gymnast and an incredible gymnast in Kova’s eyes. It was no secret I hated ballet, but I wasn’t naive enough to think I didn’t need it anymore. I hated admitting ballet played a large part in gymnastics. The components had not only increased my flexibility and balance, but the coordination and discipline required made a huge difference, especially on the floor.

  Dance, primarily ballet, corrected my posture that was thrown off by the constant bending and twisting of gymnastics. Just like ballerinas, gymnasts needed to be tight with every movement—eliminating unwanted movement—control. Spotting a sloppy dancer was easy, even to an untrained eye. Gymnastics was the same way and it all started with building my core.

  After pushing a few buttons, Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding vibrated through the speakers, rejuvenating my spirit in its wake. I felt a hundred times better already and allowed her poetic voice to take me away.

  “YOU ARE DROPPING your chest.”

  I jumped, snapping my back leg down and spinning around in fear, my heart racing. Kova’s unsympathetic voice startled me out of my concentration and I stared straight at him like a deer in headlights.

  “What?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Your chest. You are dropping your chest,” he stated for the second time.

  He casually leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. He took in the length of my body with a long gaze. Instead of a leotard, I went with black mini workout shorts and a green sports bra. Moisture dampened my skin as sweat trickled down the small of my back. I’d removed my oversized T-shirt earlier, throwing it to the ground. My long hair was thrown into a messy bun at the top of my head. Little hairs had slipped out I hadn’t cared to fix.

  I thought about what Kova said and I nearly growled. This man. I swear, he did everything he could to get under my skin. I most definitely was not dropping my chest.

  “No, I’m not.”

  The corner of his mouth tugged up, as if to say, Are you really going to challenge me?

  Dropping his arms, Kova prowled forward with determination. Each step made my heart beat a little faster. My skin prickled as he neared me, vibrations coursed through my body. I was suddenly hyperaware of his presence and how secluded we were in the dance room.

  “Yes, you are,” he countered. “Do it again.”

  Taking a few paces back, I inhaled deeply and visualized the Jeté before I moved again. With my shoulders relaxed back and my chest arched forward, I sashayed in two steps with my arms gracefully out to the side. Kicking one long leg forward, followed by a flick of my hip twisting in the air to bring my other leg around, I scissor kicked my legs quickly by tapping at the toes before I landed.

  I looked at Kova who wore a lovely, sardonic glimmer in his eyes.

  “Are you still going to tell me you did not drop your chest?”

  “I didn’t. I know I didn’t.”

  Kova tilted his head to the side. “You have too much power in your back swing, so you cannot balance it out. Do it again, but do not try and force open your legs as wide. Watch yourself in the mirror.”

  I did as he said, only this time it felt less than perfect.

  “That was a half-assed turn,” I admitted.

  Kova’s lips curved upward, his eyebrows lowered, and I felt his agreement in my stomach.

  “It was. It was terrible. But I told you why and you seem to think I am lying.”

  I did it again. And again. Four more tries and I became increasingly frustrated with each step I took, all while he watched closely with scrutinizing eyes. I wanted to prove him wrong, because surely I would know if I was dropping my chest or not.

  After I finished the fifth turn, I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair and clenched it, groaning in irritation over the fact I couldn’t master a move as basic as this.

  “Show me how to do it correctly.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Please?”

  He nodded silently. “Come with me.”

  Following Kova, he led me to the center of the floor. He stood in front of me and grabbed my forearms so my palms would rest in the crest of his elbows. He tugged me forward until both our arms were tightly bent at our sides, holding each other in place.

  Looking directly in my eyes, he explained. “You are going to jump once for power, then jump again and do the same move as before, only this time you are holding my arms. It will give you momentum, but will also allow you to condition your back kick and keep your chest up. It is the same as you would do on the barre, but I am holding you. Your chest will not drop in my arms the way it would on the barre.”

  I nodded, took a deep breath and jumped into the kick, only to lean into his chest with a grunt, getting a hint of his cinnamon and citrus scent but with a trace of something more. Whatever it was, he smelled divine, and it assaulted my senses.

  “Again. But this time stretch your legs as wide open as a kick split will allow you. Do it ten times, but on the last one stop with your leg in the air. Got it?”

  My brows scrunched together. “But you told me not to open them as wide just before.”

  “This is different. You will not be able to lean in my arms. Just trust me.”

  I jumped and then kicked back ten times, just as he had instructed me to, stretching my legs as wide as possible with each kick. Kova was right. I couldn’t drop my chest here and I felt the slight pinch in my back at this angle. I didn’t move. My palms were sweating and I wish I’d chalked up my hands before I gripped his forearms to steady my balance. Our eyes stayed locked the whole time, never wavering. His persistence to see me complete this kick correctly shifted something inside of me.

  Out of breath and leaning toward Kova’s chest, I waited with my leg elongated in the air behind me for him to speak. The air circulated around us from the exercise and I could smell him even better at this angle, not that I should want to, but I also couldn’t stop myself from drawing in a small breath.

  God, he smelled so good.

  Something felt different tonight while I waited in his arms to critique my form. I became more aware of the strength he exuded, the power in his hold, the way he stared down through his thick eyelashes. The complete domination. My stomach clenched at the sudden thought of what his strength could do to me...and the fact that we were alone in the gym...again.

  Craning my head as far as my neck would allow from this odd angle, I peered through damp bangs that fell in my face.

  The look from Kova’s eyes seared heat into my skin. His fingers tightened under my forearms as if he was angry. Surely, I hadn’t done it wrong again. A move that was normally so easy for me was giving me such problems tonight. Him staring at me like he wanted to wring my neck wasn’t doing wonders for me either.

  “What did I do wrong?” I asked breathlessly.

  Kova’s jaw locked back and forth at my question.

  “Point your toe. Bring your chest higher.”

  Really? That was it? Point my toe?

  He released the shell of my elbows and slowly slid his hands over to my ribcage, my bare ribcage, to rest right under my breastbone where the bottom of my sports bra sat. His hands held firm as my heart beat roughly against my chest.

  “Steady your breathing. Remember what I taught you. Breathe with your stomach,” he said, voice low.

  I couldn’t move.

  I couldn’t think.

  And I tried not to take deep breaths as if I was gasping for air.

  His touch ignited a cluster of sparks throughout my body that went off simultaneously. Never having this reaction to another person before, I didn’t know how to respond to his presence. Heat pooled in my belly as my breath caught, not to mention, my calf and ankle started burning while my leg was still held high behind me.

  �
��Your chest is too low and your hips are not squared,” he stated, annoyed.

  This fucking guy. He really knew how to push my buttons. He was irritating me, insinuating I didn’t know what I was doing. My chest might have been at a little low, but my hips were most definitely squared.

  My nose flared and I dropped my leg and stood defiantly. His warm hands slid to my waist then down to my hips.

  “My hips are squared,” I said through gritted teeth. “I learned that in beginner’s gymnastics.”

  He challenged me.

  “Either you had a shit for brains coach, or you just never comprehended the correct way to do it. Your hips are out and your chest is low. This is a very common mistake among gymnasts if they are not trained correctly from the beginning. I have seen you do this during practice many times and I thought we might have corrected it last time you were in here, but I guess I was wrong. Do not argue with me again over this, Ria. I have been doing this longer than you have been alive. I know what I am talking about, little girl. Now get over to the barre and I will show you how wrong you are.”

  “Little girl?” I mocked and pushed at him. “I didn’t ask you to come in here to help me out. You just walked right in and interrupted my time. And if you did see me mess up during practice, I highly doubt that you’d keep your mouth shut. You love to pick at every little thing I do. ‘Not enough. Faster. Higher. Why are you doing it this way? That is no good. Again,’ is all that seems to come out of your mouth. If it’s not that, you mumble in Russian under your breath.”

  My gut dropped. Oh God. Maybe I shouldn’t have added in a faux Russian accent.

  He stepped forward, and my heart skipped because I refused to step back. In a deathly quiet voice, he said, “If your obnoxious music was not blaring and echoing throughout my gym, I would not have had to come in here. Get your ass to the barre. There are so many things I need to correct where you are concerned. If I do not correct you now, you will just make more work for me down the line. There are not enough hours in the day for that, or patience.”