Blind Landing (Flipped #1) (10 page)

I
can still smell
Natalia’s scent everywhere as I file into the conference room for the Thursday night coaches meeting.

Even though my body is physically present, I’m still back in that gym this morning, my flesh pounding into hers as my thighs slam into the pommel horse. All the blood in my body starts to head south, and I have to suck myself back into the present moment, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance over and over to get my woody to dissipate.

“Come, come everyone. We have lot to discuss.” Novak waves all of the coaches around the large oak table in the center of the room.

The conference room is housed in the building of office suites on the outskirts of the Filipek compound. I’m hardly ever in here, opting to spend all of my coaching time in the gyms rather than behind a desk. Which is why I hardly ever recognize the staff that houses this building. They keep the camp and programs running with their accounting, business and marketing acumen. Things that could not interest me less.

A vegetable tray sits in the middle of the large wooden table, water bottles laid out, marking each padded office chair surrounding it. Of course they couldn’t even spring for donuts for this. Sugar was basically outlawed on this campus. Just like backbones or attitude.

The fifteen coaches plod in warily, most of us wanting to attend this two-hour ass-reaming almost as much as we wanted to get a root canal. Novak was going to tear us all new ones, as he always did at coaches meetings. Because it wasn’t just the elite, incredible gymnasts who were subpar here. Their coaches could always be better. Even if I never slept, didn’t do anything but stand on a spotter’s block all day and give great motivation and education … he still would not be happy.

Once we’re all seated, Novak starts in, addressing the room in his brusque Polish accent. “We have only one month before Olympic Trials. We must decide who will make team now, and focus on those girls and boys. Others will stay, just in case, but everybody know that we choose team before the competition.”

I hadn’t been here last time they’d done this. Well, I had. But not in this room. No, I was still out in the gyms, blissfully ignorant to things like injuries and the bullshit political agendas of Novak. But Rourke Bosco had warned me about this, the way they manipulated and controlled every aspect of USA gymnastics.

“Why even bother having Trials then?” I lean over to Rourke, who shoots me a look that is a mix between agreement and a warning.

“What was that, Spencer?” Melinda’s hawk eyes land on me, and I know full well she probably heard what I’d said.

“Nothing, Melinda. Can you pass me a carrot stick? I’m hungry.” I bat my lashes at her and earn a huff. And a carrot stick nearly chucked at my head.

“Let’s start with the men.” Novak looks around the table to the men’s coaches.

Rourke clears his throat first. “Well, since we apparently have to do this, we all know Duke and Jared are making that team, right?”

Each person around the room shook their head in agreement, and some of the breath I didn’t realize I was holding whooshed out of my lungs. I was glad the other coaches thought Duke and Jared were shoe-ins for the team. It meant I didn’t have to battle anyone at this table.

“Yes, Duke and Jared are sure to make the team. I think before the summer that Jared may have gone soft. But is good to see that he is still just as good.” Novak writes their names on a sheet, basically sealing their fate and their plane tickets to Rio.

I almost want to tell them later when I see them, but I’d probably be skinned alive. If Novak saw them resting on their laurels for the next four weeks, they’d probably throw them off the team just to spite me.

“James should be on that list too. We all know it. He vaults and does rings better than anyone I’ve ever seen. Well, besides you, Spence.” Ryan Bock, one of the other men’s team coaches, speaks up from farther down the table.

I salute him, thanking him for the props about my rings expertise. But I don’t miss the pit of sadness that lumps in my stomach. If I hadn’t gotten injured, I could possibly still be doing gymnastics. I could have been headed for Rio in mere months.

I clear my throat. “I second that, and his pommel horse has really improved. He’s a solid, consistent athlete; he’d be a smart addition to the team.”

Novak looks at me a minute before writing James’ name down on his sheet. This is all such bullshit anyway, they could totally rearrange this list when we leave, take out or put on whoever they feel like on any given day for the next month. Novak is sneaky; he wants to make the coaches feel important, like we’re a part of this process. Like our opinions are valued and we are really part of a family here at Filipek’s.

It couldn’t be a bigger pile of shit if a horse popped into the middle of this meeting.

“All right. I have thought it over and think Kyle and Oliver are the last two to round out that team.” Novak scribbles some more, not bothering to look up and confirm that the other coaches thought they were a good fit as well.

I wasn’t going to argue with him; if I had to pick a team right now, that would be it. But this didn’t sit right with me. What if a frontrunner came out at Trials and blew the competition away. Placed first all around and won the support of the audience and viewers at home. Were they not going to take him to Rio?

“Okay, next, the ladies.” Novak took out another sheet, and I knew at once this would not go as smoothly.

Melinda speaks in a hurry, eager to be praised by Novak but also to shout her opinion out. “Anna is a definite. She has it all, but her vault alone will win us gold. And Grace! She’s new; she’s the girl every young gymnast wants to be. She brings us star factor.”

Novak nods. “Yes, yes to both. I like Quinn as well, her beam and bar skills are strong.”

“And Julia as well. She doesn’t have the problem Peyton had. She may be old, but she is keeping her weight down and she hasn’t let up one bit. She will be our veteran in the mix, the older girl who the public will portray as the mommy figure.” Novak nods his own head, agreeing with every word coming out of his mouth.

The guy would eat his own shit if he thought it didn’t stink. Which he probably didn’t.

The room goes quiet, everyone pondering who the last spot on the team should go to. Novak peers around, a curious expression on his face. He might be fooling others, but he’s not fooling me. He’s been waiting for someone to bring her up, to challenge him on a gymnast that he has deemed unfit, too high-maintenance.

Natalia.

See, he doesn’t like her because he can’t mold her. She beats to her own drum. And normally, in a normal day, in a normal year … even with her attitude, Novak couldn’t touch her. She’s unstoppable, unbeatable. He could never deny that.

But this fear with her beam dismount has left her vulnerable. He probably salivates over the fact that she gave him a weak spot, and Novak will use that and exploit it to achieve a favorable outcome.

I didn’t want to have to bring her name up. What we’re doing — sneaking around with her private lessons, and our private fucking — is already risky enough. I can’t tie myself to her in anyway, can’t stand up for her and give her a fighting chance without some heads turning my way. I’m a men’s coach, there is no way I’d have spent any more time with Nat than any of the other female gymnasts.

If only someone would have told my dumb mouth that.

“What about Natalia Grekov?” I hear myself say before I even realize the words are coming out.

Novak raises an eyebrow in my direction and grins ever so slightly. He knows he’s about to do battle over Nat, and he’s damn happy about it. “What about her?”

I sigh, ticking things off my fingers. “Natalia shot up in the ranks the second she went elite. Made the junior Olympic team, and then the national team. She’s been the World Champion in all-around the last two years running. She has some of the most difficult routines, in overall skills and artistic ability. The public adores her, worships her. More kids probably have her poster on their wall than any other elite gymnast on the circuit right now.”

Novak speaks up. “What do you care so much about Natalia, anyway? How you know so much?”

My heart thumped in my chest. Fuck, I’d all but cornered myself. A trickle of sweat runs down my back as I thought of the excuse I’d give.

“Everyone in the world knows her stats. And I’m a gymnastics coach, it’s my
job
to know that. I just think it’s unfair that her name wouldn’t land at the top of that list.”

Melinda and Novak look at each other, but I think it’s more in agreement of their mutual dislike of Nat than of my suspiciously taking up for her.

“There is this business at the mock meet with her beam dismount. What is that about?” Melinda looks proud of herself for pointing out a flaw.

Fucking Melinda.

But then Rourke joins the conversation. “Her vaults are better than any I’ve seen, maybe even Anna’s. Spence is right, she is the real deal. She’s had Olympic gold written on her since she was born. I mean, come on, look at her parents. They brought her over from Poland for the sole fact of making her a better gymnast.”

Fucking Rourke! He all but goddamn speared Novak with his own Polish guilt. I’d almost forgotten that point. Nat’s parents had been part of the European system right along with Anka and Novak. They’d grown up in the same damn town, knew how hard life could be over there. Leaving Nat out would not only hurt Novak’s Polish identity, not that I thought he valued his home country in the slightest, but it would also taint him to the media. Especially here.

Imagine that headline,
Filipek Cuts Only Polish Gymnast from Olympic Team
. The press would have a field day.

I think Novak’s face might explode as he directs a glare over at Rourke. I toss him a nod, thanking him for sticking up for Nat as well.

“Fine. She goes on the list for now. But, final decision on Natalia will be made at Trials.” Novak scribbles angrily on his paper.

Great, so someone is going to get a shot of making the Olympic team at Trials. Too bad it’s not fair or regulated at all.

“Okay, meeting dismissed. I want to see your coaching and training plans on my desk by end of the week.” Novak waves a finger at us, communicating with his body language that we best not forget that.

Why they needed paperwork on our strategies was beside me. It’s not like they ran anything around here with one ounce of transparency.

“My ass doesn’t feel too stretched. How about yours?” Rourke massages his cheeks as he stands, crumpling the agenda we were handed on the way in and shooting it into the trashcan farther down the wall.

I look back at my own ass. “I think my hole is a little bigger than yours today.”

“Yeah, what’s with you sticking up for a female gymnast. What was that about?”

Rourke is kind of like a cool, older uncle. A single dad with a more laid-back attitude than me, we’ve become close over the last two years since he landed the vaulting job at Filipek’s.

I shrug, trying to play it off. “I’m just tired of everything around here being rigged. I don’t know what hard-on Novak has about Natalia, but it’s bullshit. She’s the best one here and they know it.”

Rourke nods as we walk out. “Ain’t that the truth.”

As I cross the campus, the light from the slowly setting sun casting rays over the perfectly manicured grass, I can’t help but wonder why I took up for Nat back there either.

Sure, she’s a great gymnast, anyone would be stupid as fuck not to realize that. But so is almost every other gymnast here. They’re elite, the best of the best. Any of them are good enough to make the Olympic team; picking five out of the dozens is like selecting the donuts in the bunch with extra frosting.

And sure, she’s a great fuck. I mean, spectacular. Nat is sexy but also innocent, not afraid to let me know what she wants, but still submissive and naïve enough to lay back and let me take her to where she needs to go.

But, there is something more niggling at me, a pressure in my chest that wouldn’t let up until I threw her name out in that coach’s meeting. More and more, I’m finding that I actually like her. As a person.

Maybe it’s because we were technically friends before we started touching each other below the waist. Even if it was a short period of time, I got to know her, actually talk to her and form a bond before she let me put my tongue in her pussy.

It hits me that I’ve never been friends with any girl I’ve slept with before. And that is scary. Not only because it makes me sound like a dog, a scoundrel, but because I’ve allowed myself to do it with Nat.

And I have no idea what that looks like. Or how it turns out.

T
he ball flies
over the net and I hear Jared smash his paddle into the table.

“Fuck!” He curses himself.

“Beat you again, motherfucker!”

“Wasn’t the game supposed to be to twenty-one? I think that’s only nineteen.” Duke looks up from his phone, the one that has zapped all of his attention for the last two weeks.

“Whatever, I don’t want to play with Spence anymore anyway, he always does that thing where he flashes me his ball sack or something in the middle of a round.” Jared throws his ping-pong paddle on the table. “Besides, I wish we could play an actual sport.

I grab my balls, motioning at him like a jackass. “Sorry you can’t take these nuts. And it’s not my fault you are all pansies. Psh, gymnasts, man.”

Feigning annoyance, I flop into one of the armchairs in the common recreation room. The one luxury Novak provides for the athletes here is a game room, complete with a ping-pong and pool table. Or, as we all know, the only two sports we are allowed to compete in besides gymnastics. There is an unspoken rule among elite gymnasts; there is no other sport besides gymnastics. You can’t play basketball, no baseball, no running for a down in football. Not only could those other sports cause grave injuries, even when we’re only having fun, but Filipek and his minions would have you cut from the Olympic team for even walking onto another court or field. It’s dangerous and irresponsible, and shows no concern for the sport we’re busting our asses for.

So, Jared and Duke have to stick with ping-pong, pool and video games. And I enjoy beating their asses every single time.

Duke snickers, his nose still buried in his phone.

“Why are you constantly on that thing these days, man? It’s like fucking attached to your fingers.” Jared swipes at Duke’s screen, causing his apps to change and keyboard to type.

“Yo! Chill with that, asshole. You don’t touch another man’s phone.” Duke pulls it close to him.

A laugh explodes from my chest. “Is that like that other rule? Never look at another guy’s junk if he’s peeing next to you in the urinal?”

“Dude, that is so fucking weird. One time I saw this guy checking out my junk, and I just winked at him. I know my dick is pretty.” Duke informs us of this little fact and goes back to his phone.

Jared sighs. “Okay seriously, what the hell are you doing on there?”

With Duke distracted, I jump in. “He’s probably saving pics of naked chicks or something. What’s that one website that women love to save porn GIFs from?”

The word porn must have caught the attention of Duke. “Tumblr, man. That shit is hot. Anyways, I’m talking to this girl on Tinder.”

“You’re still on that thing?” Jared hops up, starting a round of pool by himself. “Isn’t that just to hookup, meet up, and get fucked?”

“Basically,” Duke shrugs, “But this chick is different. She’s funny as fuck.”

I stick my face next to his, trying to get a look at her. “Show me her pictures.”

Duke pulls his phone away. “So … here’s the thing. All of her pictures are like cartoon characters. There are none of her. I’ve been trying to get her to send me a real picture for a week, but she won’t. But come on, I mean a girl this funny has got to be hot as fuck.”

“Hot girls aren’t always funny. Actually, those are kind of like unicorns now that I think about it. You can find a hot girl always, they’re a dime a dozen. But a hot girl that is also funny … that is rare.” Jared breaks the triangle of pool balls and begins moving around the table.

He’s right of course. I’ve been with plenty of girls who were a ten or more, and some of them couldn’t even count to ten. There were only a handful of girls I’d slept with, flirted with, whatever … who could hold a conversation or make me laugh.

Only one of them had ever held my interest for more than a night. Nat’s face pops into my brain, much like it had been doing for weeks now. Anytime the guys talked about sex or girls, which was literally every five seconds, my mind would wander to her.

She was hot, but it was more than that. I didn’t usually notice the way a woman’s face lit up when she smiled, or how her hair smelled. I didn’t usually recognize the little ticks in a woman’s face, the ones she showed when she was content or just a little bit upset. I didn’t usually notice the flecks of indigo in a woman’s blue eyes, or the way she pursed her full lips when she was thinking.

But with Nat, I notice it all.

And she’s funny. Her sarcasm and wit keep me coming back for more, our verbal sparring is just as good as our physical connection. And that physical connection, fuck it was good.

Things with Nat had started casually, just for fun, a little cat and mouse game. I thought that when I landed her, when I caught her tail, I’d be satisfied. That we’d fuck once, or maybe a few times, and I’d get bored.

I didn’t expect that I’d want more. That I’d think about her all the time. That she’d keep me on the edge of my seat.

Duke’s deep voice breaks my thoughts about Nat. “Dude … what is that?”

He points to a spot on my neck, and my hand flies up to feel it, but all I feel is skin. “What is what?”

He flips his camera app open on his phone and holds it up to me like a mirror. “That.”

In the camera I can make out a purplish blue bruise on the side of my neck. I touch it, but it’s not sore or painful. “I don’t know …”

Jared looks up from his pool game. “Bro, that looks like a hickey.”

My mind flashes back to yesterday morning when Nat was silencing herself by using my neck as a ball-gag, and I grin.

“DUDE! That is a hickey! Look at your face.” Jared points at me.

“Who is it from?” Duke shoves his face in for a closer look.

I waver, considering whether I should fill them in on what has been going on with Nat. I trust them, they’re two of my best friends, they wouldn’t tell anyone. But on the other hand, dread fills a tiny part of me. Talking to someone about it makes it real. She’s here, I’m here … they will know us. They will see us. And even if no one else knows, in two people’s minds, we exist as a couple. I’m not even sure if we exist as a couple in my mind or Nat’s minds.

But maybe I want us to. So for the second time in twenty-four hours, something comes out of my mouth that I don’t think about beforehand.

“Natalia Grekov.”

I let her name hang in the air for a few seconds. And then their rushing me and shouting.

“What?!”

“The hot blonde Polish girl!?”

“Spence, she’s hot as fuck!”

I hold up my hands to stop their onslaught. “I know, I know. But you can’t tell anyone. I have no idea what we’re doing, what this is.”

Duke fist bumps me. “So the sex is …?”

He and Jared look at me expectantly, with that glow in their eyes that guys get when they talk about dick in pussy. “Fucking awesome.”

They both hoot out laughter.

“Is she your girlfriend? Wait, I thought you didn’t do girlfriends?” Duke asks.

I didn’t know how to answer that. “I don’t know, man. We haven’t talked about feelings and shit.

Jared’s expression fills with apprehension. “Just be careful, man. I know what it’s like to date a fellow gymnast. Or well, be with one. When things end, if they end, they tend to blow up in your face. This is a small community.”

I knew Jared had been burned in the past. But that wasn’t Nat and I. This was new, shiny and good. We hadn’t even talked about things yet. There was no way two people like us could end badly, if this even did end.

Right?