Page 53 of Game On
With little hesitation, Levi’s roped into being an extra spotter for some of the stunts. The girls decide it’s best to start him off slowly, despite his protests to be thrown straight into high-level skills.
Ella and I split off with Ash after a few minutes of watching Levi make a fool of himself. We move to the power spring floor, to focus on tumbling. The bouncier surface is ideal for what I need to reacquaint myself with: a roundoff, which I haven’t executed perfectly since my high-school days. Sure, I’ve messed around here and there. Done a few backflips as a party trick. But nothing as daunting as what I’m about to attempt now.
“I know you’ve done this before. Supposedly,” Ash addswith a sarcastic wink. “But just remember that it’s all about the setup.”
I nod, breathing slowly, focusing on the mechanics that I haven’t practiced in a long time. The muscle memory must still be there somewhere.
I back up to the starting point, shake out my arms, and then charge forward. My hands hit the mat, pushing off hard, but my timing is off. The roundoff is shaky, unpolished. I land with a thud, rather than lightly and controlled like I’m aiming for.
I glance over at Ella and catch her watching.
“Not bad for a first try in years,” she comments, her voice neutral but her eyes kind. “You’re rushing the takeoff. Let the momentum build a bit more before you snap down.”
“Got it,” I reply, grateful for the guidance. Ash steps in, giving a few more pointers about hand placement and hip rotation. I take a moment, then reset, focusing on Ella’s advice and Ash’s technical tips.
This time, when I sprint toward the mat, I pace myself better. Hands down, legs up, snapping down at just the right moment. I stick the landing, a solid finish that has me grinning with relief.
I glance back to Ella, searching her face for any sign of approval. Her lips twitch into a small smile.
“Much better,” she says, a measured sort of praise.
While I’m catching my breath, Ash is busy setting up for the next phase of our training, laying down a row of chalk crosses to extend the roundoff into more complex tumbling passes.
“This is a good way to play with angles,” he says. “It’ll help you learn how to steer your momentum.”
As Ash works, Ella and I stand aside wordlessly. Her eyes meet mine, filled with an emotion I can’t quite decipher. Finally, she breaks the silence. “You were really serious about this, weren’t you?” I can tell it’s a genuine question, not laced with any mockery or condescension.
My gaze is steady. “About what, exactly?”
She waves a hand around the gym. “Cheer.”
“Ah.”
“You really let your guard down when you’re here, you know? I can see the look in your eyes when you nail something. It’s the same one I see in the mirror after a good practice. It’s a glimmer of … unfiltered joy, I suppose.”
“Maybe,” I confess. “There’s a certain thrill in it. A different kind of adrenaline than I’m used to.”
She grins at that, strangely satisfied by my response. “You mean to say that cheer is a better sport than football?”
“If I meant that,” I say, “I would have said it.”
She laughs. “Because you always mean what you say, huh?”
“You already know me so well, Davies.”
She gives a humorless snort, and then Ash calls us back over. We’re guided through a tumbling exercise using the formations he’s set up. A series of three roundoffs onto the first X, followed by the second and third. It’s a game to help us set, to help build our air awareness, and I have to admit, I’m really fucking awful at it.
I stumble my way through the first few rounds butmanage to get back up and try again—each time better than the last. Finally, I string together a perfect series of roundoffs. And then I move onto two back handsprings followed by a layout—landing solidly on my feet.
My heart pounds with exhilaration as I turn around, panting, to assess Ella’s reaction.
For the first time since we started our training session, she flashes me a big smile. When she steps forward to meet me, her hazel eyes are sparkling. “That was impressive,” she says sincerely. “Brilliant, actually.”
I can’t suppress the grin that splits my face. “Thanks,” I manage, still catching my breath. “Feels good.”
Her gaze lingers on mine before she abruptly smooths her palms over her thighs and steps back. “Well, I’m gonna see what the others are up to.” There’s an awkward pause as she hesitates, then turns and walks away, her stride quick and purposeful.
I watch her go, the flush of success cooling into confusion. Was it that obvious how much I craved her praise, and was she hoping to deny me the satisfaction of it?
