Page 2 of Spring Break With A Gold Medalist
Phil
I’m far from a knight in shining armor, and I know the phrase ‘damsel in distress’ isn’t acceptable in today’s world, but I just can’t walk by when a beautiful woman is sitting on a set of stairs, crying. Especially when I’ve wanted to meet her since the first time I saw her a couple months ago. Stuffing the receipt from Choco-Love in my pocket, I stop and softly ask, “Hey, everything okay?”
She tries to convince me, and probably herself, that she’s fine but she’s barely holding it together. I’ve coached too many young athletes with the habit of negative self-talk and this young woman exhibits the same symptoms. I didn’t help the situation when I brought up the Olympics.
The first time I saw Maya was on the beach outside a local bar, practicing for the first Love Beach tournament. I was drawn to her short dark hair and how her muscles moved under what I imagined was satiny smooth skin. Then she was injured and had to withdraw from the event. Out of curiosity I’d followed the news about her torn ACL, although after her partner started winning with another athlete, there wasn’t much airtime spent on Maya Davis.
Fucking shame, that’s what it is.
Now I’ve reminded her of what she’s lost, at least for now. She could be back on the beach in a year, or her injury might have sidelined her completely. Blown out knees are a tricky bitch.
When I mentioned the Olympics, she’d caught back a sob. I’m an idiot. Now I need to make her feel better. Sitting beside her on the steps, I’m surprised when she allows me to take her hand. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made the reference.”
She tries to brush off my concern and bursts into tears. I did this to her and now I need to correct my fuck up. All these tears can’t be only because I mentioned the Olympics. How do I fix something when I don’t know for sure what I’m fixing. Taking a huge chance, I ease her into my embrace. “It’s okay to cry, baby doll.”
She sniffs against my neck. My cock stirs. What the hell? How are tears and snot an aphrodisiac? I haven’t been that long without a woman. When I can’t remember my last hookup, I’m forced to admit it has been a long time. A year? More?
Even though I knew Beryl wasn’t really the one for me, when she rejected me after her college boyfriend turned up in Love Beach, I wallowed for an unreasonable amount of time. I focused on training kids and when other professional sports teams in the area contacted me about building on to my gym to create space they could use, I threw myself into the expansion.
Guess I’ve ignored other parts of my life and now I have a stunning beauty in my arms. The only thing on my mind should be drying her tears, not kissing her.
She shrugs and presses the backs of her fingers to her nose. It’s not helping. Using the tip of one finger I lift her chin and use the hem of my tee to wipe away her tears.
“Oh don’t do that,” she complains and twists away. “I don’t want to ruin your shirt.”
“No worries, this shirt has wiped away a lot of tears.”
She gives me a disbelieving glare.
“It’s true. I coach kids. Some of them are still pretty little and their small hurts are huge to them. Or they haven’t figured out how to deal with the frustration of not getting a move right after fifty tries. Tears are a default reaction for many of them. Especially when their moms are around,” I end softly.
Tugging on the hem of her own shirt, Maya leans back and dries her face. “Okay, I’ll give you that. It’s the same with volleyball. I remember bursting into tears when I couldn’t serve the ball over the net.”
“And how old were you?”
She fights a smile. “That was last year.” Shaking her head, she continues, “No, I was six. My brother is older so he was already playing team volleyball in middle school. I wanted to be just like him.”
“And?” I prompt. Maybe she’ll talk herself out of her funk.
“Obviously, we both had successful college careers. He went to the Olympics on the National indoor team. Then he started coaching. He has a dream like yours though.”
What’s she talking about? “I don’t understand.”
“I know who you are, Phil. And I remember watching you at the games. You and all your gold medals. And now you’re helping young people discover and hone their abilities. Coaching future gymnasts. Even though he hasn’t really talked much about the possibility, I know my brother would like to do the same with volleyball. Set up a permanent facility for training and team development. I expect him to pursue that after Ellie wins her gold medal.”
Sadness tightens the skin around her eyes, but she sheds no more tears. There’s more she needs to say, but I know she won’t. I’m not sure how much she even realizes. “That sounds like a solid plan. They—your brother and Ellie are getting married? Is that what I heard before they left town?”
“Ha. Love Beach really is just a small town, isn’t it? All the rumors. I pushed for them to get married before they went back on the circuit. But Ellie insists it won’t happen until I’m able to walk the aisle as her maid of honor. That’s part of why I’m so damn weepy today. Therapy was hard. I hurt more than usual.”
She lifts the thick envelope from her lap. “Then I got this in the mail. She keeps sending pictures of dresses I’ll never be able to wear. I can’t. I don’t want to ruin her wedding by not looking presentable in any of her choices. And then… and then these steps. There’s so many of them and my knee just didn’t want to make the climb. I was resting when you showed up. So, there ya go. My life and today sucks.”
I’m inordinately glad I’d parked behind Choco-Love today otherwise I would have missed the opportunity to meet Maya. Hold her. Capture her tears with my shirt. Okay, that’s not a good point. However, I can give her a little help to make her day better.
“Allow me to help you up the stairs.”
She captures her bottom lip between her teeth and I swallow a groan. Eyes wide, her gaze darts around like she’s a trapped animal. I don’t mean to frighten her.
“Just some support for your tired knee. I know how difficult the physical therapy can be.”
