“Do you have a condom?” I ask.
His face goes slack. “No, I wasn’t planning for this at all. There… might? be one in my backpack, and I’ll check, but it’s in the office.”
He kisses me and gets up to put his underwear and pants back on. He looks like he’s about to move toward the office, but thinks better of it. He grabs his shirt and tugs it on over his head.
“Just in case anyone’s out there,” he says, winking.
“There better not be!” I yelp.
I pull my knees up to my chest and watch him jog across the gym. He disappears around the corner, and once I hear the door swinging shut behind him, I can’t help but let out a laugh. It’s ridiculous that any of this is happening at all, much less at Summit. But, of course, it would happen here. This is where everything in my life has always taken place.
A minute later, Ryan’s back, with a look of triumph on his face. “I found one,” he says, shaking the foil packet.
Another minute later, and we’re both naked again—sweaty, breathless, and happy. There’s a certain stereotype about sex with gymnasts, and I heard enough jokes about it in my early twenties from gross guys at clubs to last a lifetime. The truth is that, yes, while we may be stronger and more flexible than the average person, we’re still just regular human beings who like regular sex. Putting your feet behind your head isn’t all that exciting when that’s just your typical Tuesday morning. That said, there’s nothing regular about sex with Ryan. He looks at me with awe, like he wants to memorize this moment. His fingers linger over the tender spots by my waist, the edge of my hip, the nape of my neck.
Later, once we’re exhausted, he puts his arm around me and I lay my head on his chest. It’s quiet, except for the low hum of the radio and us catching our breath. He kisses my temple and pulls me closer to him, so my thigh rolls over his legs. I kiss his collarbone and drift my fingers over the outline of his tattoo.
“Just in case I didn’t make this clear earlier, I, um, like you,” I say into his chest.
“I got that, yeah,” he says. “I’m really glad this happened.”
I grin. An easy silence passes between us. He strokes my hair absentmindedly.
“Sorry to derail cleaning the mats,” I say.
He laughs and looks around. “Now we have a lot more cleaning to do.”
“But we can do it together.”
• CHAPTER 16 •
I used to count time in days: thirty days till the start of football season; fourteen days till the rent is due; three days till I run out of clean underwear and have to do laundry. But now it drags out in minutes, ticking by slowly in my head: I know how many minutes it’s been since Ryan’s last sweet good morning text, or the last kiss we stole in the supply closet, or the last time he came home with me after practice and we stayed up until 2 a.m., trading stories over a bottle of red wine. I had forgotten how sweet it is to let yourself fall for someone. I can’t help but replay our hookup when I’m washing my hair in the shower, and I snap to attention when I hear his name in the gym. I feel giddy whenever his texts pop up on my phone. On Tuesday night, I was so distracted that I forgot I had brussels sprouts in the oven until the smoke detector jarred me out of my daydreams.
It’s nearly six thousand minutes later—four days—when Sara comes to Summit to give Hallie a private yoga lesson. Between Sara’s work schedule and Hallie’s training plans, Friday is the best day; it also happens to be Valentine’s Day, although I don’t dare fixate on that. It’s too soon into whatever this thing with Ryan is to celebrate the holiday in any real way.
Sara was thrilled when I asked if she would work with Hallie. Without breaking Hallie’s trust in me, I told Sara as much as I could—that Hallie is having a tough time in the months leading up to the Olympic Trials, and now more than ever, she needs to reduce her stress and build her confidence. Sara said it would be an honor to help her. And once I told her about what happened with me and Ryan on Monday night, she was doubly excited to come to the gym. I made her promise to play it cool in front of him, especially when Hallie is around.
“Since we’re not telling her about us,” I explained to Sara. “Because, you know, the whole point is to reduce stress, not add to it.”
“Got it,” Sara said. “I promise not to gawk.”
Of course, the moment she saw Ryan at Summit on Friday afternoon, she gawked.
“He’s so cute,” she mouthed dramatically the first moment his back was turned.
I take Sara, Hallie, and Ryan upstairs, where there’s a dance studio and a party room for children’s birthdays. I flick on the lights, illuminating the wooden floors and ballet barres installed against a mirrored wall. Sara sets out the two yoga mats and a pile of foam blocks. Hallie stands with her back to the mirror and one hip jutting out, her arms crossed skeptically over her chest.
“Sara and I are roommates, and she’s a great teacher,” I tell Hallie, trying to warm her up to the idea.
When I suggested yoga to Hallie, she had balked at the idea. Even after relenting to one private lesson, she still wasn’t thrilled to try it.
“Have you ever done yoga before?” Sara asks Hallie.
Her voice has an extra drop of honey in it. It’s clear that Sara recognizes this is not exactly Hallie’s idea.
“Yeah, once, back in middle school gym class, before I got a tutor,” Hallie says flatly.
I can practically read her mind: This is exercise?
“I didn’t really like it,” Hallie adds, as if she can make this lesson disappear just with the sheer force of her surliest teenage attitude.
“Well, this will be totally different,” Sara says cheerfully. “Look, I’m not some weirdo old gym teacher who wears basketball shorts with tube socks.”
It’s a good point: Sara’s wearing matching leggings and a cropped tank top in a pink, orange, and purple ombré that reminds me of the sunset. She looks visibly, recognizably strong, and this seems to soften Hallie to her slightly.
“I guess,” Hallie says, tilting her head.
“Here, why don’t you do the honors of picking today’s playlist?” Sara offers, handing Hallie her phone.
“Cool,” Hallie says swiftly, nodding.
She starts to scroll through Sara’s Spotify.
Sara gives me a bemused glance, as if to say, Look. We’ll be fine.
“Um, guys? This is a private lesson,” Sara says to me and Ryan, pointing to the two mats on the floor. “I promise I’ll return her in one piece once the hour’s up.”
“Right, right, we’ll be going,” Ryan says.
“Yeah, we’ll go… somewhere,” I say, scrambling to temper my voice so I don’t sound too thrilled by the prospect of a free hour with Ryan in front of Hallie.
“See you soon… and have fun,” Sara says.
I follow Ryan down the stairs to the first floor, but when we reach the lobby, neither of us has anywhere to be. He looks blankly toward the gym, then the office.
He steals a glance toward the parking lot. “We could get out of here.”
“We can’t!”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and gives me an irresistibly flirty grin. “Who’d notice?”