“Good idea,” he says. “Come with me to get something to drink? I’m thirsty.”
“Sure,” I say.
We walk by the bench with our bags so Ryan can grab his wallet, then wander down a maze of hallways until we find a vending machine, chattering the entire way about the highlights of Hallie’s performances.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get over that floor routine,” Ryan says with a note of awe in his voice. “I mean, it was perfect from start to finish. She’s never been better.”
“I can’t believe we pulled that off,” I say, feeling giddy.
“We? No, that was you,” he insists. “I’ll take full credit for hiring the best floor coach on the planet, but that whole routine was all you.”
The vending machine is stocked with Gatorade bottles lined up in bright, color-coded rows. Ryan tilts his head.
“Berry or Fruit Punch?” he asks.
“Berry all the way,” I say.
“I’ll get two, then,” he says.
He feeds dollar bills into the slot and presses the right buttons. I lean against the side of the machine as it whirs to life, retrieving the plastic bottles and dropping them down with two solid thunks. It’s cool and quiet here. After today’s whirlwind, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Tonight, I’ll sleep easily in the luxe hotel bed, and tomorrow we’ll all book our flights to Tokyo. This doesn’t feel real. It’s unbelievable, somehow, that after all these years, I’m finally going to the Olympics. Everything is falling into place. Or, rather, almost everything.
Ryan bends down to pick up the drinks and hands me one, interrupting my train of thought.
“Thanks,” I say.
He starts to open his bottle, but I stop him.
“Wait,” I say, reaching for his hand.
“Yeah?” he asks.
I kiss him before I can lose my nerve, sliding my arms over his shoulders and pulling him toward me. I can feel the muscles in his shoulders tense for a split second, and I lean back, but then I see a dimpled smile spreading across his face.
“Come here,” he says softly. “I like that.”
We find our way back to each other tenderly. His hands brace my hips, and soon, our lips fall into rhythm together. I’ve spent so many months aching to be close to him, and from the way his mouth moves against mine, it’s clear that he’s felt the same way. He kisses me deeply, and it just feels so right.
“I didn’t expect that,” he mumbles into my hair.
“I didn’t plan on that,” I explain.
“I’m glad it happened, though,” he says earnestly.
“Me, too,” I say.
I didn’t know it was humanly possible to feel more relief and happiness than I’ve already felt today, but I’m so glad that my gut instinct was right—he wanted that kiss as much as I did. Ryan takes the Gatorade out of my hand and places both bottles on the linoleum floor by our feet so that he can kiss me again. It’s perfect.
“Look, I know I messed up—” Ryan starts, but I shush him with another kiss.
“There’s no need to keep apologizing,” I say, wrapping my hands around his waist.
“No, hear me out,” he insists. “I never stopped caring about you.”
He speaks slowly and fiercely, giving each word the weight it deserves.
“I didn’t say it before because I was an idiot, but the past few months have made me realize exactly how I feel,” he continues.
I go very still, even as my heart races. His dark eyes search mine.
“Avery, I love you,” he says.
I feel a rush of pure joy and a ballooning sense that everything is right in the world. This moment? It’s better than a perfectly stuck landing. It’s sweeter than the view from the top of the medal podium.
“I love you, too,” I say.
I know I’ve never stopped. This time, I’m not self-conscious to voice how I really feel. Suddenly, the significance of where we happen to be standing hits me, and I can’t help but laugh.
“What?” he asks.
“Do you remember our first conversation?” I ask.
“The night I called you about coaching at Summit?” he guesses.
“No, think—the very first time we ever spoke,” I prompt.
His eyes light up. “It was Nationals. I asked if you knew where the vending machine was.”
I smirk and lean back against this current vending machine, fingers dancing over his chest.
“Here we are,” he marvels.
JULY 2020
• EPILOGUE •
It’s competition day in Tokyo. I gasp when I enter the arena for the first time; the space is larger and flashier than anywhere I’ve ever competed, and handmade signs written in multiple languages wave in the crowd. Cameras capture every angle.
Hallie and the rest of the Fantastic Four warm up for the competition’s first rotation. They’re resplendent in matching royal blue leotards, and they work with an efficient, upbeat energy. Even though the stakes are higher today than ever before, everyone seems just so plain happy to be here. Hallie’s on floor first.
While the gymnasts get ready to compete, I stand on the sidelines with Ryan. We flew to Tokyo a few days early so Hallie could prep for the competition while adjusting to the fourteen-hour time difference, and though we’ve been working a lot, there’s also been just enough downtime to sneak out together on dates. The sushi dinner, sumo match, and Zen garden visit were amazing, but truthfully, we could’ve had just as much fun sitting in the supply closet at Summit. Since we got back together at Trials, I’ve felt so at peace. We’ve decided to keep our relationship private until after the Olympics.
A competition official signals to Hallie that she has time for one more tumbling pass, and then the warm-up will be over. Hallie nods, and I watch as she launches into a high-powered, tight double Arabian with a cleanly stuck landing. I shake my head in awe.
“Today’s going to be a good day,” I predict. “I can feel it.”
“Me, too,” Ryan says. He watches me studying Hallie on floor, then asks quietly, “Do you wish it were you out there?”
The question catches me off guard. For so long, I so desperately wanted to be in Hallie’s exact position. Losing out on the chance to compete in the Olympics was the single most devastating experience of my life—worse than surviving Dimitri’s rage, worse than watching my relationship with Tyler fall apart, worse than the time I thought I lost Ryan for good.
But the funny thing about your dream coming true is that it never quite happens the way you think it will. There’s always a twist. When I walked into the Olympic stadium for the first time, nobody cheered for me or waved signs with my name. My heart didn’t race with anticipation for my upcoming routines. Sports reporters didn’t hound me for interviews. And even stranger than all that? I didn’t care. I’m overjoyed to be here as Hallie’s coach. I’ve let go of my old dreams. My new life has replaced them.
Before I can tell him any of that, though, Hallie joins us on the sidelines for a slurp from her water bottle.
“We were just talking about how strong your tumbling looks today,” I tell her. “You’re gonna kill it out there.”