End Game (Bellevue Bullies 4)
Chapter Eight
Sofia
I’m leaningagainst a practice beam as Amelia goes through her routine. It’s solid. The difficulty is there, and she can land the skills, but she’s holding back. When she falls out of her triple back handspring series, she slaps her palm to the beam, and I hold up my hand to calm her down. Her face is red, her hair is a mess from where she has run her fingers through it at least ten times, and she looks like she’s on the brink of crying.
“You’re in your head.”
She shoots me an infuriated look. “Well, duh, this is a mind fuck.”
I laugh as I nod. “It is, but you’re way into your head. You think you’re gonna fall before you even give yourself a chance to finish the skill.” I go to her beam, leaning on it as she does the same moves from the other end, landing her trick on the beam in front of me. “It has to be fluid, dude. And you get so worked up that you rush it, and then you’re falling. You become Amelia Justice—hot mess express.”
She cracks a grin, and I smile before squeezing her wrist. “You know how I do this?”
“How?”
“I just do.”
“Oh my God, why don’t I just do that?” she says sarcastically, and I laugh.
“No, I don’t think about it. I just do it. I know the motions. I know what I have to do. I don’t break it down. I don’t even really think about it. I just do it.”
Her brows come in. “Oh, how wonderful it must be to be a robot.” She then starts to move like a robot, teasing me. “I am Sofia. I can’t do wrong. I move the way I am supposed to and get all tens.”
I smack her playfully as I laugh from my gut. “Shut up.”
She gives me a rueful look. “Not everyone is you. Give me something I can work with.”
“Fine. Maybe I should do to you what my coach did to me.”
She looks wary. “Which is?”
“Stand on the other beam and toss shit at you as you do your routine until you ignore everything, even your brain that is telling you to duck. He gave me a black eye once.”
She blinks as the silence stretches between us. “You do realize he was abusive, right?”
I shrug. “Yeah, but I got a ten at my first college meet.”
She thinks that over and then nods. “Hmm, maybe we should do that.”
Our laughter fills the gym. When she stretches her arms on the beam, my laughter subsides when I see a tear run down her face. “Amelia, it’s okay. You’ll get this.”
“It hasn’t always been my fucking struggle.”
“No?”
“No, and now I hate beam.”
I nod. “Well, it’s never been my favorite.”
She swallows hard. “It was my dad’s favorite.”
My heart aches for her. “Really?”
“Yeah, he loved watching me on it. He was always in the front row at every competition when he wasn’t at Ryan’s tournaments. When he was, though, my mom would FaceTime him or Skype him.” She looks down at the beam, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. I can tell she doesn’t want to cry in front of me; she probably feels weak like I do. “He hated vault. Bars and floor were okay, but when I was on beam, he said he held his breath. His heart would pound ’cause he was excited for me but also freaked the hell out.” When Amelia’s lips start to wobble, I take her wrist in my hand again, squeezing it. “He was always so proud of me.”
“He had a reason to be. Am, you’re amazing.”
Her lips quirk. “I’m not a robot like you.”
I chuckle because I know she means it as a joke. But little does she know, being a robot isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
“I think that’s why I struggle so much with it. Ya know?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice cracking. “When my mom’s MS was diagnosed, it came out of nowhere, and it knocked me off my game, big-time. I think I fell off the beam and the bar at least once a practice.”
She narrows her eyes. “Once a practice, you poor robot.”
I smack her once more as she laughs, but another tear rolls down her beautiful face. “But really, Am, I get it. This sport is a mind fuck. Plus, it’s only been three years, right?”
She nods, her tears shining on her cheeks. “Yeah.”
“That’s still raw.”
“But I feel like I’m letting him down.”
I pull her into my arms, the best I can with the beam between us. “No way! He is cheering loudly for you in heaven, and he wants to see you do it in a meet.” I whisper in her ear, “You can do it. I know you can.”
She whimpers against my shoulder. “I can.”
“You can,” I say, squeezing her. “Now, show me.”
She nods jerkily as I squeeze her biceps. She stares at the beam for a long minute, inhaling deeply before she exhales forcefully. When she looks to me, I know she is defeated. “I think I’m done for today.”
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but then, we aren’t the same person. I bury my feelings and push myself until I collapse or puke, sometimes both. I think Amelia might handle her feelings a bit healthier. “That’s fine with me. Wanna move to floor? We can tumble some feelings out.”
She smiles as she nods. “Yeah, can you watch my double layout? I don’t know what I’m doing with my hands.”
When she waves them in the air, I can’t help but laugh. Even when she’s sad, she’s still animated. “Duh, it’s my favorite.”
“I’m sorry I’m such a baby.”
I wave her off. “You’re not. I get it, and I think I have to admit that I like you as my best friend.”
She punches the air with a huge grin on her face. “I knew I’d make you love me.” I laugh as she leans into me. “I have bad days like this, though. Especially since I talked to my mom this morning, and she’s having—”
“Hey, so-called sister of mine!”
We both stop at the new voice, but while Amelia turns, I go still. I know who has just entered the gym, and I didn’t expect his voice to be so damn low and raspy. Demanding. Sexy.
Crap.