Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(72)
“We know she’s a great gymnast,” ribbed the anchor. “But what is she like outside the gym?”
“Well she definitely has a strong head on her shoulders. I think you’ll find in her interviews that she’s not afraid to give her opinion.”
Melissa laughed. “Good! She fights back, I like that.”
Ha.
“That’s crucial to compete at this level,” I continued. “Gymnasts have to be exceptionally confident. There comes a point in their training when they know what’s best for themselves, and sometimes that’s the point when they stop being coachable.”
“Do you think Brie’s past that point?”
I shook my head. “She wants to win, probably more than any athlete at these games, and even though she completes routines that leave me speechless, she’s not perfect. Until she has gold around her neck, she will keep looking to learn and improve.”
Melissa nodded thoughtfully. “You know, some have said if Brie leads the team to its first all-around gold in twelve years, it will make the Committee seem like geniuses for appointing you as the replacement coach, give you a little job security, eh?”
I smiled. “It’s definitely an honor to have been selected, but like you said, I’m only concerned about helping this team win.”
She glanced down at her cue cards and then back up to me, leveling me with a sincere stare. “To delve into that question a step further…it’s no secret you and your father have a strained relationship. I have a quote here where he states that he believes you’re ‘ultimately a quitter.’ What would you say in response to that?”
I unclenched my fists, trying to keep my cool on live television.
“Melissa, my father had thirty years as head of this program and it’s been twelve years since we won all-around gold. My father was a good coach—no one would deny him credit for launching U.S. women’s gymnastics into the 21st century—but change was coming long before he started having health problems. I’m glad the committee could see reason through pride, even if he couldn’t.”
Her brows perked up with interest, surprised by my lack of diplomacy. “It’s rumored you and your father haven’t spoken in nearly ten years. What was it that first put a wedge between the two of you? Did it have to do with your premature departure from the sport—”
I smiled, tight and thin, before cutting her off. “That stuff is old news. I’d rather focus on the future.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Brie
Life in the Olympic Village wasn’t quite how I imagined it to be. Most of the athletes were beautiful and fit, but I was too busy practicing and worrying about qualifications to peep at pecs or gawk at glutes. I woke up early, trailed after my team to the food court on the first floor, and ate breakfast with my earbuds in place. I practiced in the competition arena, and when that was full, I moved to the less glamorous practice gym they’d built next door. After I was done, I crashed in our condo, too anxious and exhausted to worry about the famed “village orgies” and “parties that make you bow at the altar of debauchery!” Despite Lexi’s wonderful way with words, I still preferred to stay low key. We’d been in Rio for a few days and other than the alley with Erik, the most excitement I’d seen was the mob of athletes that formed around the salad bar every time they put out a new batch of hard-boiled eggs.
Qualifications were scheduled for the following morning and I tried not to think about Erik as I laid out my competition leotard—just like when I would try to not think about Erik while I brushed my teeth, or ate my lunch, or y’know, generally existed on earth. I knew it was futile; he conquered my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to resist.
Deep down, I knew he was bad for me. Every time I thought of him, my heart rate kicked up a notch and my stomach clenched tight. He was a sweet poison and I was so addicted, I didn’t care that our encounters left me choking for air.
Letting him f*ck me in that alley a few days earlier had been the single most exhilarating experience of my life. An ever-shrinking part of my consciousness screamed HELLO! PEOPLE COULD HAVE SEEN US, but as a whole, did I care? No. Nope. Nuh-uh. It was so hot I couldn’t think of it all at once or I would literally start sweating. Even after I finished laying out my competition gear for qualifications, when I was tucked in bed and supposed to be counting sheep, I closed my eyes and guided my hand down past the hem of my sleeping shorts and replayed the best parts: the way he’d gripped my thighs, pulling my legs apart so he could see all of me. He’d watched when he guided himself inside me, moaning with the sight of it. God, he’d done it so slow that first time, letting me slowly stretch out for him. I’d thought I would pass out by the time he was buried all the way inside.
He’d held me there against the wall, not bothering to cushion it for me. My back scraped the concrete, my legs ached. I dug my nails into his arms, begging him to slow down, to give me time to adjust. He didn’t care that it was too intense. He’d growled into my ear, pumping into me until I thought I’d break in two, but right before I’d hit the edge and cried out, he’d slipped his hand between us and started to swirl his thumb over me. I’d squeezed my eyes closed and tried to will the rising tide to recede. I didn’t want to come that easily. I didn’t want to reveal how much he owned me.