Blind Landing (Flipped #1) (15 page)

W
e always were
the same person. I should have expected the way things were going to end up the minute I went to Nat out of anger and not to seek comfort.

The moment I exploded on her, her temper went to one hundred as well. I said some things that were harsh and uncalled for, but none of it was untrue.

What she threw at me cut me deeper than I’ve ever been cut. She reached into my chest cavity and stabbed at my heart with a machete, her words slashing at the ventricles and leaving me a mangled mess. Nat had targeted my biggest failure, my greatest insecurity … the fact that I had no shot at the Olympics. That I never would.

She was right, of course. She had so much more to lose, just one month from her dream and I was asking something nearly impossible of her. If it were any other woman, I would never have done that. I wouldn’t have even gotten in so deep, become so emotionally invested.

But this was Nat. I wanted things with her that I have never wanted with another woman. Would never want. It hits me just now, three weeks after our knock-down, drag-out breakup, that there is finally something I love in this world more than gymnastics.

Natalia.

And because I love her more than gymnastics, I wanted her to put me before our sport as well. Would I feel differently if I were in her position? Probably. Was it fair of me to ask that of her? Probably not.

“Where you want this one, boss?” One of the buff movers motions to the large squishy mat in his grip, his thick Long Island accent shaking me out of my reflection.

“Ah, you can just put that over there.” I point to the vault against the back wall and smile.

My heart may be mashed up hamburger bits inside of my ribs, but the rest of me buzzes with intense happiness. I wasn’t lying when I’d threatened Filipek … I was coming for him. But even though one of my goals was to oust him from his dictatorship hold he had over the entire sport, my mission was so much bigger than that.

I might have been wishy-washy about the idea of opening my own gym for a while, but it seems as if my life was always leading here. If there is one thing I can thank Novak for, it is that he trained me well. Sent me to the best clinics and coaching courses. Gave me years of experience with world-class athletes.

Now I was ready to do it on my own. I’d taken my parents up on their seed money, signing loan documents with them to make it official. Of course Mom had insisted I take the money as a gift, no need to pay it back. But it was time to grow up, to take responsibility and do this my own way.

I’d scouted out warehouses up and down the Jersey Shore coastline. Sure, it was in Filipek’s territory, but well, fuck it. I loved the beach, wanted to be by it year round. I could do whatever I wanted with my new business. And I wanted to buy a warehouse so close to Ocean City that I could run in for Brown’s Donuts every morning at seven a.m. if I so pleased.

So I did. I purchased a seventeen thousand square foot warehouse, bare of anything but the concrete floors and walls, and started to build my dream.

I was calling the shots; making all of the equipment orders, reaching out to gymnasts to possibly train with me, coming up with colors and branding. Garden State Gymnastics, or GSG. I didn’t want to name the place after myself … it was too fucking pretentious. The colors were black, white and red … simple and classic but would pack a punch with cool gear and leotards. Who knew my fashion-ignorant ass would enjoy picking out and designing women’s leotards.

And today was delivery day. The walls have been painted, murals of twisting, leaping and flipping gymnasts in red, white and black. The movers I hired are hauling in brand spanking new mats, no chalk marks in sight. Brand new beams, bars, floors and vaults are being assembled, the entire facility coming together in a matter of hours.

My blood hums in my veins, my entire body one live wire of excitement. Now that everything is finally coming together, I can’t wait to open up.

A few hours later, I’m tipping the movers and shaking their hands, sending them on their way. And then it’s just me and my gym.

I walk out to the middle of the floor, basking in the silence and simplicity of it. Hopefully in a month, this place will be chaotic and filled with dust. But now … it’s peaceful. Gymnastics in its purest form.

“You really fucking did it, huh?” A male voice slices through the quiet.

Turning, the person I see walking through the glass front doors has a smile breaking out on my face. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Rourke walks to where I stand in the middle of the shaggy blue carpet. “I came to interview for a job, asshole. That is, if you have enough money to pay my salary.”

My jaw drops open. “What?”

He slaps his hand into mine, shaking my hand in a vigorous motion before bringing me in for a man hug. “Well, that … and to get the real story on why you left Filipek’s. I didn’t believe those rumors for a fucking second.”

The happiness in my body fizzles out with his words. “What rumors?”

God help me if Novak actually went through with his plan to ruin Nat. Actually, God help
him
.

“That Polish asshole has been telling everyone you were so jealous and bitter that you weren’t able to go compete in Rio that you left. No way would you ever be jealous or bitter. I kept telling everyone, you don’t have a jealous bone in your body.”

“Those fuckers,” I chuckle. “No, I didn’t leave because I couldn’t handle not going to the Olympics. The reason I left is much more complicated. To be honest, it’s a long story.”

Rourke points to the bag on his shoulder that I hadn’t noticed as he walked in. “Good thing I got a sitter tonight.”

Setting the bag down, he pulls out a six-pack of Hoegaarden and two Styrofoam containers. He opens one, the scent of pulled pork and french fries wafting up into my nostrils.

“Dude, are you serious? I might kiss you right now.” I plop down next to him, happier than I’ve been in fucking weeks.

“It would be the most action I’ve seen in about a year. But forget my shit … I brought you food. Now tell me what the hell happened.”

We dig into our sandwiches and gulp beer, with me asking him questions about how all of the guys are doing.

“Jared is killing it, he’s going to explode in Rio. This is going to be his fucking swan song, and he knows it, so he’s putting the pedal to the floor. Duke is doing well too, they should both have awesome showings at the Olympics.”

And then I launch into the explanation of the frustrations I’ve held about Filipek’s for years. How I hate their methods, the way they’re tyrants of the sport. How unfair the picking of the Olympic teams are.

“You don’t have to tell me. My skin crawls every time I sit in the same room as one of them. They’re the worst kind of people.” Rourke pulls on his beer again.

“Exactly. The thing is, I would never have left. I would have put up with their shit, let them walk all over people and belittle the athletes. Because I thought there was no other way. I was getting to train elite athletes, be part of one of the best sports institution in our country. But then it all changed.”

I took a sip of beer, the harsh bubbles stinging my tongue and nose, easing the lump in my throat.

“This is about a girl, isn’t it?” Rourke raises an eyebrow.

Dread fills my gut. “How did you know that?”

He sighs, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “Because it’s always about a girl.”

I nod, feeling his wistfulness. “I fell for one of the gymnasts. Natalia Grekov. It started as a friendship, and we … well, we never even intended to hook up. But, of course, I just couldn’t help myself. And then feelings got involved. Novak caught us, courtesy of Melinda. He threatened her, so I took the bullet.”

“Fuck, Spence. That’s all just … so fucked up.”

“I know. And it cost me Nat in the end anyway. We said some things, things we shouldn’t have. I tried to make her do things, things I never would and wouldn’t have even normally have asked for.” I shake my head, guzzling the rest of my first beer. I reach for another.

“That’s what love does to you. It makes you feel on top of the world. Like you’re hitting the peak of the best fucking tumbling pass you’ve ever done. And then it brings you crashing to earth. Landing on your neck and breaking your whole body.”

“Well, when you put it that way …” I laugh it off, our funk infecting the entire gym.

He was right though. Being with Nat, it was better than any high I’d ever gotten out of gymnastics. More exhilarating than letting go of the high bar only to catch it again in mid-air. More exciting than launching into a tumbling pass, more adrenaline in my blood than a jet ripping through the air. More stimulating than my feet connecting hard with the ground in a perfect landing.

Rourke finishes his beer. “Well, what the fuck do I know, though? So … you’re going to come to Rio and get her back right?”

The idea had run through my mind, but I’d pushed it off, convincing myself it was a stupid move. “Are you still going as a coach?”

He nods. “Yep. Haven’t handed in my resignation yet, I want to see my guys and gals place. But I do have an extra bed in the house I rented in Rio. I think it might just have your name on it.”

I
’m going
to the Olympics in a week.

For sixteen years, this was all I dreamed about. All I thought about. It consumed me, drove me forward until my body was only running on the notion that one day I’d be standing on a podium with a gold medal around my neck.

So the why fuck was I standing at the end of the vault runway picturing Spencer’s face instead of envisioning the perfect Yurchenko full in back out?

He’d thrown me off my game with his truths. He exposed the most vulnerable part of me, the part that cared about him and was too cowardly to say so. Sure, he’d been wrong in some aspects, but he’d been so dead on in others that I couldn’t shake the doubt off my bones.

Three weeks I’d gone with this lingering feeling of him, hoping that I’d turn a corner around campus and he’d be there. But he was gone, dead to Filipek’s and pretty much the rest of the gymnastics community. I couldn’t even ask about him without drawing attention to myself. Although I’d noticed Jared shooting wary looks my way across the gym sometimes. I had a sneaking suspicion Spence had let his friend in on our secret just like I’d told Peyton.

My life without him was like performing a technically perfect floor routine. The music was present; I could still execute all of the skills. But the
thing
that turned it into a ten was nowhere to be found.

My heart had split in two, the other half of my flawless performance missing. It was no use, the appeal that gymnastics had once held for me seemed to have left with Spence’s last steps out to Filipek’s parking lot. Memories of us flipped through my brain; our first meeting when I’d almost knocked him out with my cafeteria chair, the night we stripped down to nothing and jumped in the Atlantic Ocean. The first time he touched me, his fingers licking up my spine as he flipped me through the air. The first time he kissed me. The first time we made love, our sweaty bodies working each out in the most natural of exercises.

I missed him so much my teeth hurt. Every part of me, down to the very last hair follicle … all I could think about was Spencer Russell.

“Natalia, pay attention!” Novak screeches at me as the rest of the girls shoulder their gym bags, clearly moving to the next event.

“We’re going to bars …” Julia eyes me cautiously.

She’s caught onto my mood over the last three weeks, although she’s being an even better friend than I thought she was by not asking me about it. She’s just kept me present, bringing me by the arm into the next activity, telling me where I need to be.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” I grab my bag, slowly dragging my feet behind her.

“Is it that this is all coming to an end too soon?” Her chocolate eyes find mine.

“What?” I try to follow her conversation, but my mind just seems to be elsewhere these days.

“I’ve been feeling it a little too. I curse myself for not finding gymnastics sooner, it’s one of my biggest regrets. If I wasn’t so old, I could have gone to two Olympics, trained for a bunch more years. But now, this is my only shot. I’ve been training for Rio for what feels like forever, to you it must seem like a lifetime. I just think maybe … since it’s so close, the illusion of grandeur is fading. The Olympics is just becoming another competition for us, another hurdle?”

Pushing past all of my Spencer baggage, her words do ring true. “Maybe that’s a little of it. It feels like now that it’s here, there is nothing to wait for any longer. Nothing to hope for or strive towards. What will I do after? Who will I be?”

My thoughts wander again, and I almost don’t hear Julia’s next question.

“Or maybe this has to do with Spencer Russell?”

My head snaps towards her. “What?”

She lets out a sigh, her long black hair swishing down her back like a beautiful horse’s mane while she walks. “I’m not dumb, Natalia. I remember in the cafeteria all of those weeks back when Peyton accused you of it. You reacted way too suspiciously for a gymnast who wasn’t at least interested in one of the coach’s. And I’m also not blind. I saw how chummy you two were the past couple of months. Don’t lie and tell me this funk you’re in didn’t start the minute he left.”

Well, it looks like the other gymnasts and faculty might not have been as oblivious as we’d thought. No use hiding it now. It was over anyway.

“Yeah, it’s mostly about him. That asshole. All I wanted was a quick, sexy hookup. And instead I’m fucking hooked.”

She sighs. “Line and sinker, baby. Men, can’t live with ’em … nope, just can’t live with ’em.”

We both laugh at her corny joke. “You know, I’m not Peyton, but I am always here to talk, Nat.”

Her offer of friendship makes me feel marginally better. “Thanks. But really, now there is nothing to talk about. We had a fight, and the whole thing just blew up. He’s gone … and I’m going to Rio. I have to focus on that.”

We’ve fallen so far behind the group, I’m surprised Novak is not here biting at our heels. The moment of peace and friendship is a soothing balm to my soul.

“Do you love him?” Julia’s question is quiet, but I hear the gravity of it down to my toes.

I nod, unable to speak over the lump of sadness in my throat.

“Well, then. I may not be old and wise, but I am older than you so I can say this. Life is way too damn short, take it from me. If you find something, someone, that sets your soul on fire … grab it by whatever you can latch onto and don’t let go.”

Something in her tone makes me realize she isn’t just talking about gymnastics, that there is another piece of Julia I haven’t bothered to get to know about. It makes me ashamed, that I’ve been so wrapped up in my problems and drama the last three months that I’ve neglected my teammate.

It wouldn’t happen again.

My hand finds hers, squeezing gently. It’s a thank you, a gesture of understanding.

And for the first time in a while, the fire I’d always had going in my blood reignites, burning fast and steady like the Olympic Torch.