Page 101 of Burnout
“Of course.”
Her hands go to her hips.
“Core tight, slow and controlled, yadda yadda.” I have no idea if that’s what she said, but it’s a safe bet.
Avery laughs and Hope joins in.
“You’ve got it bad,” the teenager comments in a tone that’s part annoyance and part inspired.
Avery ignores both of us. “I need to work on my beam routine, so I’m trusting you two to stay out of trouble on your own.”
I stare at her ass as she walks off, then get back to working on rings. Hope is doing vault, but between each run, she sits on a big mat next to the rings and chats with me. She talks nonstop, requiring me to say very little. I’m so used to Flynn and his silence that it’s a nice change of pace.
She tells me about gymnastics, about the boy she likes, how her parents are concerned she’s spending too much time on gymnastics and not giving other activities a chance. And thensomehow blocks everything else out while she sprints and hits the springboard, flipping her little body over the vault and landing on two feet. It’s impressive.
I’m taking a break and watching Avery do her thing on beam the next time Hope comes to slump on the mat next to me.
“She’s worried,” Hope says.
“Who? Avery?”
“Yeah. Her first competition is next weekend.”
“She looks pretty ready to me,” I say, and shoot Hope a questioning look. I don’t want to pry, but I’m not sure I understand why Avery is worried. She’s dynamite. I’ve seen her do this routine a few dozen times and she always nails it.
“She is,” Hope says, but her tone tells me there’s more that she isn’t saying.
Near the end of my hour workout, I walk over to where Avery is still practicing on beam.
“Time already?” she asks when she spots me.
“Pretty much. Thought I’d see an expert in action before I take off.”
She drops to sit on the beam. Her smile isn’t that different than many she’s given me before, but Hope’s words have me questioning if it’s a defense mechanism so no one realizes she’s not really happy.
“Hope said your first competition is coming up?”
“Saturday,” she says, letting out a breath.
I walk over and rest my hands on the beam next to where she sits. “That first race of the season excitement and nerves?”
“Mostly nerves,” she admits.
“Why?”
“I haven’t competed in nine months. Not since I hurt my knee.”
“It’s holding up well though, right?”
She bobs her head absently. “Yeah. It feels good.”
“You’re ready. I’ve watched you.”
“You mean you’ve stared at my ass and boobs while I worked out?”
I laugh. “Not gonna lie, done a lot of that too.”
Her legs dangle off one side and she kicks her feet out in front of her. “It doesn’t feel like it used to yet. I’m hesitating before my dismount and I’m wobbling sometimes on my turns.”
