Her eyes narrowed. “Anything else, Coach?”
There it was again, the fire. I could never decide if I wanted to fan the flame or stamp it out. Instead, I brushed past her. “Go change.”
She laughed under her breath. “Right away sir.”
Chapter Eight
Brie
“Well that was a disaster,” I said, reclining on the couch. I’d showered and put on my comfiest pair of pajamas. Practice had kicked my ass and I knew I’d be paying the price tomorrow. Or in an hour.
“I think Erik liked your tail a little too much,” Molly said, handing me an extra ice pack and sliding down to sit at my side.
I dropped the pack onto my shoulder and closed my eyes, ignoring her statement.
“Agreed,” Lexi said, dropping onto the couch on the other side of me.
My first instinct was to argue with them, but I’d learned it wasn’t worth the effort. As far as I could tell, Erik was the same as he’d been the day before: distant and chilly. During practice, I’d finish a routine and glance over at him. I’d try to glean a sliver of emotion from his face, but he always wore the same unreadable expression. It wasn’t filled with kindness or hatred; no, the chill in his piercing blue eyes was somewhere in between, too confusing to pick apart. He’d blink, shake his head, and spout out a random recommendation. “Your feet were apart in that final pass…You nearly went out of bounds there at the end…Keep your legs straighter in the first double.”
I knew my routines weren’t perfect, but coaches usually mentioned at least one good thing I’d done before harping on everything I needed to fix. After thirteen years of gymnastics, I understood that I hungered for other people’s approval. I loved impressing my coaches. I blossomed under their praise, and after one day of working with Erik, I knew I’d have to adjust my standards. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat criticism. There’d be no thumbs up or smiles during practice, just cold, critical indifference.
I shivered at the thought.
“Ugh, I wish this stupid house had an oven,” I said, peeking my eyes open just to confirm one hadn’t magically appeared in the kitchen while we were away. “I really want to bake something.”
Molly laughed. “What is it with you and baking?”
I smiled and shrugged. “It’s my favorite thing to do. When I was younger, sometimes my mom couldn’t pick me up from practice right away because she was stuck at work. At first I’d wander over to wait at a bookstore near the gym. There was a bakery next door, and when I got bored or hungry I would inevitably end up drooling over the pastries in the display case.”
Molly smiled. “Sounds like my kind of place.”
I nodded. “It was heaven. Anyway, the owner took pity on me. In the beginning, she’d slide me the day-old baked goods, and then once it became clear I wasn’t going away, she let me go behind the counter and help her.”
“Is that where you learned to bake?” Lexi asked.
I smiled. “She taught me everything I know.”
“So that’s what you would be doing if you weren’t competing in the Olympics?” Molly asked, laughing. “Baking?”
I stared up at the ceiling and closed my eyes, picturing myself behind the counter of the bakery. It was almost purpose-built for inducing nostalgia; the haze of flour hanging in the air might as well have been pixie dust, enchanting me with the everlasting aroma of fresh baked goodness. The radiant warmth from the enormous ovens enveloped my tired muscles, soothing them better than any heating pad could. After the technical demands of the gym, I reveled in the simplicity of following tried and true recipes.
“I guess,” I answered honestly. “I haven’t thought about it, really. It’d be fun—”
“GUYS!” Rosie shouted.
She was walking into the living room from the kitchen, but something had caught her attention out the window. “LOOK.”
All three of us jumped off the couch and ran to the window.
“Holy…”
Erik was walking back to his house from the hangar after a workout. He was shirtless, sweaty, and ripped. I’d seen his body the first day I arrived and I knew he worked out a lot—I’d nearly passed out trying to keep up with him during our morning run—but the sight of him still stole my breath.
“I want to lick this window right now,” Lexi said, pushing her face closer.
She wasn’t kidding. The glass was fogged over in front of her lips.
“He looks like Wolverine,” Molly said.
“Or Superman,” Rosie added.
“We’re gonna need a cleanup on aisle three,” Lexi said.
I waved my hand in front of the window to get them to stop. “Gross, Lex, we get it.”
“But look at that back.”
I am. It was broad and tan and glistening with sweat. He pulled his tank off his shoulder and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. When he reached the steps to his back porch, he took them two at a time.
“He’s so…” Rosie pushed her palm to the window. “Perfect.”
When he reached the top step, he glanced toward the guesthouse and all at once, we ducked and barrel-rolled away from the window.
“Shit!”
“Oh god! Do you think he saw us staring at him?” Molly said, covering her eyes.
I crawled back toward the window and pushed myself up on my knees just enough to peek over the windowsill. Erik was still staring back at the guesthouse, but his attention wasn’t on the first floor. He was focused on the second story, on my bedroom window. He propped his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. Tingles spread through my body as I continued to spy on him. He looked nearly angelic, encased in the light from the setting sun. His tan skin glowed and the muscles on his back rippled when he shook his head and turned for the door, whipping the screen door open with a touch too much force. I fought the urge to run out and stop him, to exchange every remaining dollar in my bank account to know what he’d just been thinking, if his thoughts had possibly centered on me.