Page 34 of Burnout
His brows lift in surprise, but he doesn’t say a word as he attempts it. He doesn’t know where to put his legs or how tomove and there’s a few seconds where he gives up and just holds the straddle, looking like I asked him to do the impossible. He drops back on his butt. It’s the first time in the past hour that he’s looked defeated, and I take a little pride in that.
“You might need to start with raised bars on the floor until your flexibility improves. It should look like this.” I go into the straddle and then press into a handstand.
When I sit back in front of him, he cracks a smile. His tone is teasing when he asks, “Did that win you a gold medal?”
“I didn’t win an individual gold and no.”
“Gold, silver, basically the same.”
“Yeah? You’d be happy coming in second?”
“Fuck no,” he answers quickly, then adds, “But it’s still cool that you went and placed.”
“Careful, you’re treading awfully close to a compliment.”
“Your workout sucks. Better?”
“You can’t talk shit about a workout when you can’t even do the exercises right.”
“Sure, I can,” he says, but he has the smallest grin as he does so. He checks the clock on the wall. It’s at least the third time I’ve caught him checking the time. I’m sure he has things to do, women’s hearts to break and all that. Wouldn’t want to keep him from it.
“I guess that’s it for today. Tomorrow I’ll set up some bars and we’ll see if you can get up that way.”
“Can’t wait,” he says dryly.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” I remind him. I’m doing this for free, giving up the same amount of time that he is.
“Thanks for the permission, princess.” He’s quick to get to his feet, grab his shirt, and head out.
The next night I half-expect him not to show up. I’m working on beam skills while Hope does dismounts onto a mat. Even when she doesn’t quite nail it, her smile never falters.
When Knox comes into the gym, he scans it, looking for me. In those seconds before he spots me, I drink him in. Black athletic pants, black shirt, black shoes. Black heart, probably. But damn is he good-looking.
“Who’s that?” Tristan’s voice startles me. He stops next to the beam and stares toward Knox.
“A friend of Quinn’s boyfriend.” I hop down. “We’re training together.”
He scoffs, walking with me toward the door where Knox is taking off his shoes and shirt. “He’s not really your type, Ollie.”
“Good thing I’m not dating him then. Besides, how would you know what my type is anyway?”
“Easy. Me.”
He’s so cocky and so wrong. I mean, sure, he’s attractive, but he isn’t the kind of guy I’d typically go out with. Nolan, my last boyfriend, was an athlete—he was on the basketball team, but he was also sweet and romantic. So not like Tristan, who probably thinks letting a girl sleep over is romantic. Then again, Nolan ended up cheating on me, so I guess he wasn’t that sweet after all.
Knox looks up and his gaze sweeps over my bare legs and today’s pink leotard before sliding to Tristan.
Tristan crosses his beefy arms and puffs out his chest. Ugh, boys. I don’t bother introducing them.
“Ready?” I ask Knox.
He glances at Tristan one last time and then nods.
I take him back to the corner where we worked out yesterday and lead him through the same stretches to warm up.
It goes faster tonight and Knox doesn’t speak until I’m placing the parallel bars on the floor for him to work on press handstands. “Your boyfriend is staring.”
I don’t have to look to know he’s talking about Tristan. I’ve felt his eyes on me. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
