Page 18 of Burnout
He pauses, myriad expressions crossing his face before he says, “Avery. You met her last weekend. Quinn’s friend. Her roommate too.”
An image of the pretty blonde fills my head and the hope I was feeling vanishes. “She’s a trainer?”
“No. She’s a gymnast at Valley U.”
“That prissy-looking chick is a gymnast?”
He nods his head adamantly, smirking like he’s taking joy in my surprise. I run that through my mind, trying to imagine her doing cartwheels and backflips. Interesting.
“And you worked out with her? Doing what?” I’m still curious even if I don’t think there’s any hope of her helping me.
“Lots of stuff. Gymnastics is fucking hard. She taught me how to hold handstands, get out of them gracefully, Japanese handstands, cartwheels, somersaults, combination tumbles, and I even did a little ring work. It was tough.”
A smile breaks out on my face. “What I’d give to have seen that.”
“I know it sounds crazy, but it helped a lot. I made huge improvements in a shorter time than other guys.”
If I know Colter, he was putting in a lot of hours riding and practicing too, which is probably what truly made the difference.
“I’m going to see her tonight. I can ask if she’d have time to help.” He looks at me like he’s hoping I’ll take him up on it. I hate to disappoint him, but doing somersaults isn’t my idea of working out.
“That’s okay.” I hold up a hand. “I can work out on my own and put in more time here.”
“You’re already here from the time you drop off Flynn in the morning until you gotta run to pick him up after practices.”
“It’s only the third day. Besides, my heel clicker is almost as good as yours now.”
He scoffs. “Yeah-fucking-right. You wish, Holland.”
I walk around to the driver’s side door of my truck, open it, and pull myself up, calling out, “Just you wait, I’m going to be doing it upside down in a backflip before you know it.”
SIX
“I don’t feellike doing beam today,” Hope says, voice full of teen admonishment as we walk over to the right corner of the gym.
I glance back at her as I pull myself onto one of the lower beams so I can do the routine with Hope. “Why not?”
“You should see your face right now.” She giggles and her expression looks every bit of her thirteen years as she smiles, showing her braces with lavender bands. “You look so offended, like you can’t imagine anyone not loving beam as much as you.”
“I can’t,” I say honestly.
The local club gym is busy tonight with young gymnasts. Boys that don’t look any older than four or five to girls that are in high school and preparing for the club season competitions. I come here most evenings to get in more practice. It’s nice to work out with all the energy of young competitors around me.
Hope mounts, straddling the beam, then tucking her legs before standing.
“Let’s work on turns first,” I suggest.
“Ugh. I was hoping we’d work on dismounts.”
That’s because she’s good at that part. Tumbling is her strength. She is great at the floor routine and it’s all she wants to work on. But with a little extra effort, she can translate some of those skills and be great at beam too.
“If your turns look good, then we’ll move on to split jumps.”
A little spark of excitement flashes in her eyes. Most kids would be thrilled to work on the easier skills, but not Hope. I think that’s why I like working with her so much. She’s fearless.
I’m not officially coaching her or anything, but since I started coming here, she’s just sort of followed me around. I can’t work out like I want to, so it’s fun to see her improvements since I’m not making any of my own.
“Is Tristan your boyfriend?” she asks.
