Page 20

twenty

. . .

Tony

Despite some early distractions, once I was able to screw my head on straight, it turned into one of my best trainings of the past few weeks. It couldn’t have come at a better time; Ross, the national team coordinator, is at the training facility today.

After a break for lunch, Ross sets us into a mini competition. He wants to see our final routines, not just the bits and pieces we’re training. There are sixteen men on the national team plus another eight on the senior developmental team who have the potential to be named in the next year if their scores are up to snuff. Only nine of us train here at the national team’s facility; the rest are throughout the country, some are still in college or high school, at the gyms of their choice.

One bonus of training year round at the national team’s campus? We get more eyes on us. When Ross wants to see our progress, he can do it in person and not through a shaky video recorded on the coaches’ phones. We get extra chances for visibility ahead of formal selection camps, like the one coming up next week. Even though it technically will all come down to our results on the day of, the selection committee—Ross, Coach Jack, and a few other national federation staff members—will take our recent performances into account.

We run through full routines on each apparatus. The Worlds team will be composed of five men, plus two alternates, and the Pan-American Games, the next major competition a few weeks later, will consist of another five men and two more alternates. Altogether, there are fourteen spots to fill, and almost double the amount of men competing for them.

If I can put together a good showing today, and then another on the day of selection camp, I have a good shot of pulling away with a spot. The team needs my high potential scores on vault and floor.

I’m about to run through my floor routine when I catch a flash of black out of the corner of my eye. Turning, I’m surprised to see Vivienne in my gym, my sister by her side.

She’s wearing dark jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt, her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She looks effortlessly casual and put together in a way I envy. I’m not put together even with a lot of effort.

Cari waves and gives me a thumbs up. Vivienne checks me out, her gaze lingering on my thighs, exposed by my small shorts, before a slow, smug smile spreads over her face.

“So, that’s new,” Brody mutters, following my gaze.

“Isn’t that the chick from the bar?” Tommy says.

Dylan, the fucker, grins and waves at them.

Coach Jack clears his throat. “Do you need a minute, Gonzales?”

“I’m fine,” I mutter, trying to focus.

Brody shoves me forward. “Go say hi to your adoring fans.”

“Take a break,” Ross announces, making a note on his clipboard. “We’ll regroup in a few.”

When I catch a glance at Coach’s face, he actually looks amused rather than pissed.

I make my way over to where Vivienne and Cari are waiting. A sudden bout of awkwardness overtakes me. What do I do? Do I hug her? Kiss her? Shake her hand?

She surprises me again when she reaches for me and pulls me into a hug.

“Hi,” Vivienne says, before she gives me a quick peck on the lips. “I wanted to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her, and I’m surprised to find that it’s one hundred percent true.

Did I expect it? No.

Will there be repercussions for me? Possibly.

Do I want to send her away? Not at all.

Leaning down, I brush my lips against hers again, more firmly this time. She lets out a soft sigh.

“You two are gross,” Cari says. But she’s grinning, happiness bright in her eyes. I don’t think she’s upset in the slightest at this development.

Gently, I shove my sister’s shoulder, and she laughs.

“My agent wants to talk to you,” Vivienne says out of nowhere.

I blink. “What? Why?”

“Do you have an agent?”

“Why would I need one?” I almost laugh. I don’t get major social media endorsements. The few I have, I’ve done the legwork of reaching out to the brands and pitching myself. I don’t do it very often because I have trouble believing they’re interested in working with me. Usually Brody has to peer pressure me into sending the email.

“Well, she wants to sign you,” she says. “A few of my sponsors have reached out. They approve of us.”

My stomach drops. Is that something we have to consider, how other people perceive us?

“If there is an us,” Vivienne adds quickly.

“There is,” I tell her quietly. “I’d like there to be.”

“Well, this is one of the bonuses of dating me. Pump It Up Protein wants to do a collaboration.” Her smile is strained. “You don’t have to. It’s totally fine if you’re not interested.”

“What would it be?” I hold my breath. I almost don’t want to know.

“It would be eight posts over eight weeks, we’d get paid five for each post. We’d record videos of ourselves drinking their protein and talking it up.” She blows out a breath. “It’s a lot. I know. Especially since we—well, it’s a lot of pressure.”

My mind is spinning. “Can I think about it?”

Vivienne nods. “Yeah. I totally get it. I gave my agent your email, she’s sending you some details to look over.”

It’s a lot of pressure to put on a new relationship. What happens if, on week three, she decides she wants nothing to do with me? All for five hundred dollars a post? Sure, I wouldn’t sneeze at an extra four thousand dollars, but not if it means jeopardizing what we have.

“This probably isn’t the time.” I glance back over at Coach Jack, who’s talking to Ross and glancing in our direction.

“Just think it over. Forty thousand dollars could be huge toward paying for vet school.”

“Four—” I blink a few times. “I thought you said it was five hundred a post.”

Vivienne shakes her head. “Five thousand dollars a post. Times eight posts. That means you’d get forty thousand. All you have to do is put up with me for eight weeks.” She gives me an awkward, uncomfortable smile.

Forty thousand dollars . That’s almost one year of tuition, right there. And all I have to do is make a few social media posts with the woman I’m crazy about??

It takes a couple of seconds for my brain to come back online. When it does, I give her a hard kiss on the lips.

“I don’t need money to put up with you ,” I tell her. “I want to be with you. If you want to do this, I’m in, but I don’t need this. I don’t want to use you. I just want you .”

A brilliant smile slowly spreads over her face. “You’re in?”

“I’m in.” I give her a quick kiss. “But now I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Go, go. I can’t wait to see you out there.”

Jogging back over to the rest of the group, some of the guys are laughing, but the rest are stretching and trying to keep warm. They’re actually focused on the goal.

I need to be focused too. I can’t get distracted.

Forty thousand dollars. That’s, like, life changing. Do I want to gamble Viv’s and my fledgling relationship for money?

No. I’ll talk to her agent, but I’ll make sure there’s a clause in there to protect both of us. The protein company probably doesn’t actually care about me. They can sub in any guy in my spot. As soon as someone better, more suited for her, comes along, I’m sure they’ll be shoving me out the door.

I meant what I said; I don’t want to use her to get ahead. If it comes down to it, I’ll do whatever it takes to put us first. What we have is infinitely more important than money. I just hope she agrees.

Coach Jack blows his whistle and we get back to work.

And when I nail my floor routine, giving the performance of my life… I start to hope that maybe I can have both—Vivienne and a new start at life. I’ll do what I have to do.