Page 79 of Where We Belong
I don’t trust my voice to sound steady, so I simply answer with a curt nod, then turn my entire body toward the bars. To my right, I catch him moving away, but even without seeing him, I know he won’t go far.
With my eyes closed, I go through three sets of deep breaths. Only when I feel collected do I look up and begin.
The first part of my routine is the same. A combination of pirouettes, releases, flips, and transitions from one bar to the other. To a spectator’s eye, it always looks so easy, as if the gymnast is simply letting herself fall in the direction the wind carries her, but no other element requires this much out of me. It’s a heady blend of strength, agility, precision, and graceful power, and the gymnast who makes it look easy is one who’s mastered it all.
“Come on!” Finn shouts from the ground, the same way I do with my own students. Even through a pirouette, I have to fight my grin. He must’ve observed me at some point, or maybe we just have that aggressive way of encouraging in common. “Push!”
It feels just like being back in the gym with Andy, his rude remarks and loud calls only driving me to do better.
“That’s it,” he says when I catch the bar after having done a piked Jaeger, where I swung backward before releasing the bar in my rotation and catching it again after having done a forward salto. It’s a move I love, and also one that reminds me I’m almost at the end of the routine. “Easy.”
I start my second-to-last full rotation around the tall bar, forcing myself to breathe. It becomes hard as I complete that rotation and get to that last one.
Time moves in slow motion as my body completes that last 360 degrees. I can’t do it, I think over and over again. What was I thinking? I almost lost everything by doing it once, and suddenly I want to tempt fate again?
I’m about to release the bar and do a simple double back dismount, the same I’ve been performing during my last competitions. But then I spot Finn from the corner of my eye, standing right where he promised he’d be, his body on high alert.
He won’t let me fall.The realization comes to me as easily as my next breath. He’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. It’s a fact I believe in, even more than in my inability to perform the dismount.
Which is exactly what makes me decide to start twisting to the left while rotating into my first backflip. I don’t think. I don’t even blink as I let muscle memory take over my body and lead me to the right place.
The moment I feel hard ground under my feet, everything goes blank for a moment, as if I’ve landed in some other dimension, one that only exists in a dream. I still can’t breathe, not yet realizing what happened.
Finn’s the one who gets me out of my trance when he says, “Holy fuck.”
I blink, getting my bearings as I examine my surroundings. In a whisper, I say, “I did it.” Then, I turn to Finn, who’s gaping at me like he’s just seen a miracle take place.
“I did it,” I repeat louder. This time, Finn’s face splits into a huge beam. “Fuck yeah, you did it.” And then he’s there, and I’m running even closer, and the smell of earth and trees envelops me, and I can’t help but throw myself into his arms and hope he catches me.
Of course he does.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” I say against his neck, soft and warm, like a blanket I just want to wrap myself into.
“I can,” he says, squeezing me so tightly against him it’s almost painful. I love it. It’s nothing like the careful way he was five minutes ago, and it makes me feel so much better. So alive. “You’re a star, Lex. A goddamn supernova.”
I smile even bigger, and when he starts twirling me around, I can only yelp and hold on to him.
The last time we hugged like this, it was after New York, and just like then, I feel this immense sense of euphoria at being embraced by him, like he’s holding together all the pieces of me I thought would never fit again. For this moment, it doesn’t matter that I’ll never have him as anything more than this. I can live with it. Not everyone gets the chance of meeting someone this wonderful and having them be a part of their life the way Finn is for me. It doesn’t matter what he is to me. The only thing that matters is that he remains here.
When he finally stops turning, my head continues spinning, a carousel of glee and thrill, one I never want to get off of.
Pulling back, he lets me see those gleaming green eyes and says, “Those Californians need to prepare themselves. They won’t know what hit ’em.”
Chapter 29
Lexie
“Youneedtoleavethat guy.” Finn’s voice is firm, leaving no room for discussion.
Lilianne, who’s sitting on the seat opposite ours at the table outside the ice cream parlor, shakes her head and laughs. “You don’t get it,” she says before dipping her spoon into her cookie dough treat.
Today’s the first day that gives me hope that spring is around the corner, with temperatures in the high sixties and a bright sunshine that puts everyone in a great mood, my Arizonian ass included. So when Finn came to get me at the gym and asked if I wanted to go with him and Lilianne for ice cream, I didn’t hesitate. Cold weather has never stopped those two from going on their weekly dates, but while I’ve only agreed to accompany them a few times, I wouldn’t have passed on it today.
It’s been an exhausting couple of weeks. First, there was San Francisco, where I got my highest scores of the season to date, with a gold medal on floor and bars, and an all-around silver. Landing that dismount at the bars certainly helped, but more than that, it felt like finally, I was back to where I used to be. I was ecstatic about it, but while it was a step in the right direction, it still wasn’t enough. Next, I need to get that all-around gold. If I don’t win it at least once before the World Championships, I can pretty much kiss the idea of winning at the final competition goodbye. The moment I stepped off the plane back in Boston, I started training with a new fire, but also with a new level of discipline. Days off are a no-go now. It doesn’t matter that my body feels like it’s made of thousands of different cogwheels that don’t fit together, old and rusty, and that every morning, I’m in more pain than I was when I went to sleep the day before. If that’s what it takes to get my place at the Olympic trials, then I’ll endure it all.
This afternoon’s break is the first one I’ve taken in weeks, and I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t feel like a week-long vacation in the Bahamas. My frozen yogurt tastes like heaven, the scratchy music coming out of the cheap speakers sounds like it’s been composed specifically for me, and I’ve probably smiled more in the last half hour than I have all week. The only other occasions I’ve felt myself laugh were when Finn visited me at the gym or when he had me over for a quick dinner, and even then, those moments never felt like enough.
Things got a little less fun, though, when Lilianne mentioned how much of an ass her boyfriend is.
