Page 4 of Burnout
“Is your knee hurting?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It still feels off and it’s swollen from the little bit of tumbling I did this week.”
“I think that’s normal. It’ll take time, but it’s only September. You have plenty of time.”
I thought that too. Right after the surgery, then this summer when I was cleared to work out, but I feel years away from competing and the season is looming.
“Coach told me that next week she wants me on floor only.”
My roommate’s dark brows rise, but she’s slow to speak, like she’s considering her words carefully. “Maybe that’s best.”
My face heats and my expression must show my outrage because she quickly adds, “For now. A-babe,” she says, using the nickname she gave me. It’s way better than ‘Ollie.’ “You’re the best gymnast on the team. She isn’t worried about you perfecting routines, she just wants to make sure your knee is good to go and your head is on straight.”
It’s logical, or maybe I just want to believe it so I don’t have to think of it as another setback. But it annoys me that it’s basically what Tristan said too.
“Maybe you’re right. I think I’m just cranky because I ran into Tristan.” I groan as I think of his stupid smirk. “I can’t believe I kissed him. Bleh.”
“You were drunk and fresh off a breakup. And he is really hot, so it’s forgivable.”
I shudder at the memory. Tristan is cocky and entitled. He’s a great gymnast, I’ll give him that, but his personality sucks.
“Where did you run into him?” Quinn asks, moving out of the splits and into a handstand. She’s the only person I know that could manage to still look cool and collected with her skirt bunching up like a belt around her hips.
“At the gym. Some of the guys stayed after their practice.”
“Of course they did, what else do they have to do on a Friday night?”
“You mean like us? You’re tumbling in party clothes and the only place I’m heading is to the shower and bed.” For not going all out at practice this week, I still feel like I got run over by a bus.
“Not true.Weare going out. And I’m just making sure I haven’t lost all my skills. I might not be competing anymore, but dropping into the splits or busting out an aerial are great party tricks.” She drops back to her feet and fixes her clothes. Somehow, she still looks fab, not a lock of dark brown hair out of place.
I laugh at the big smile on her face. She’s one hundred percent serious and I love her for it. Quinn and I joined the Valley U gymnastics team together as freshmen, but at the end of last year she quit so she could have more of a life. It’s hard to blame anyone for wanting more free time. I spend two to three hours at the gym every day, and most days even more. Add school and studying to that, and there isn’t a lot of time for anything else.
I love it too much to quit, but I understand Quinn’s decision.
“Weare?” On a scale of one to ten, my desire to go out is hovering around negative five.
“Yes. Colter’s performing tonight and I promised him we’d stop by.”
“Oh.”
“He wants you to see how much you helped him,” she clarifies.
“Yeah, of course. It’s just…can’t you take some video for me? It’ll take me at least an hour to get ready and I’m not really in the mood.”
She shakes her head slowly from side to side. “You said that last weekend.”
I open my mouth to protest.
“And the weekend before.”
My lips clamp closed. Dammit.
She laughs and places both hands on her hips. “It’ll be fun.”
Quinn and her boyfriend Colter are the cutest couple ever. She’s all petite and sweet-looking (even in her leather and boots) and he’s this wild and crazy freestyle motorcycle guy. I adore them, but the last time I went out with the two of them I felt like a third wheel.
As if she can read my thoughts, she says, “Colter will be busy, so it’ll be like a fun girls’ night with great eye candy.”
