Page 37 of Burnout
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m going out of town with Colter and the team.”
“Oh, right.” I pull on sweats and slip into my shoes. “Are you doing tricks yet?”
I know it sounds bad but working together I sort of forgot the point of all of it. Most of our sessions I’m just trying to get through it without wanting to strangle him.
“Unlikely.” With another small shake of his head, he says, “Just setting up and tearing down until I get better.”
“Are the sessions helping?”
“You mean the handstands and shit you have me doing?” He arches a brow like the answer is obvious. “Not as far as I can tell.”
Ouch.
“O-kay. Any suggestions?”
“If I had any idea how to do this myself, I wouldn’t have come to you for tumbling lessons.” He pulls on his T-shirt. The movement makes his hair messy, and I find myself wanting to run my fingers through it.
“If you think this whole thing is dumb, why do you keep coming back?”
He shrugs. “Last resort, I guess.”
FOURTEEN
Tristan livesin an off-campus apartment complex that is filled with college students. It’s especially popular with the hockey team, who live two buildings over.
We’re hanging out at his place on the balcony and noise from several other parties combines to make it feel like all of Valley U is here. Most of the gymnastics team is here, guys and girls. Tristan’s neighbors across the hall, Nico and Whitley, are on the university golf team and brought a lot of their teammates, too.
It’s still early and the atmosphere is chill and friendly. It was a long week and Quinn didn’t even have to convince me to come. I needed to do something other than obsess over training—mine and Knox’s.
I keep replaying his words from yesterday.Last resort, I guess.
I don’t like thinking of the time I’ve devoted to him as a last-ditch effort, but I knew he was hesitant when he agreed to it. The real issue, the thing making me want to chew on my fingernails and mess up my manicure, is wondering if I’m making any difference at all. He said he didn’t think so and that stung.
“Need a refill?” Tristan asks as I stare out at the party around me, not really seeing it.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “No, I’m good.”
He takes the empty camping chair next to me. His blond hair falls into his eyes and he pushes it back with a flick of his head. “How’s your knee?”
“Fine,” I say quickly.
His gaze narrows and drops to my bare legs. “You’re still holding back in practice.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Coach has me on mats still. She wants me to ease back into things, so I don’t reinjure myself.”
“Bullshit.”
If I had any beer left in my cup, I’d be tempted to toss it at him.
“She’s coddling you. You could already be back at one hundred percent if you wanted to be. What I don’t get, is why aren’t you pushing yourself? We’re two months out and everyone is looking to see if you’re going to let this setback end your career or if you’re going to be hungry enough to let it fuel you to dominate.”
Tristan has been competing in the spotlight since he was sixteen. He’s been to the Olympics twice and medaled both times. He doesn’t get it. No one has ever doubted his talent or chalked it up to luck.
“Admit it.” He leans closer and lets his fingertips brush my thigh. “At least to me. I know you, Ollie.”
“Just because I let you feel me up once when I was drunk doesn’t mean you know me.” Moving my leg away from his touch, I stand. “I think I do want a refill.”
Inside the apartment, I step into the kitchen and mix another drink. A splash of vodka with strawberry soda. Quinn is in the living room playing video games. She hands off the controllerafter she wins another round of Mario Kart and bounces toward me.
