“I don’t remember.”
“Who needs to remember to know that I’m the bad influence between the two of us?” I joke, trying to keep the mood light.
“You could have just told them the truth, that we woke up married and don’t remember the events from the night before.”
I shift uncomfortably. I feel bad about that night. That alone should be good enough to assign me the guilt. “Regardless of whose idea it was, it was my fault.”
Her brows pull together as she studies me, considering.
“I’ve been trying to ask you out since the day I met you. I was ecstatic to run into you in Vegas. It felt like…fate or something.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
“There’s no part of our story where you’ve been the one pursuing me, so yeah, I’m confident that what happened that night was all on me.”
Finally, that answer seems to satisfy her, and she turns back to look out toward the lake. The moon casts a spotlight down the center of the dark water. A gust of wind has her huddling into herself. Me too. I pull my shoulders up in a bad attempt to shield my neck. I should have brought a coat. A coat that I’d inevitably give her. Maybe I should grow my hair out instead.
“Wanna go back inside and watch me kick D-Low’s ass in a shoot-out?” I ask to save us both from freezing to death. “I’m much better at hockey than cards.”
She lets her head fall back and she laughs. “God I hope so.”
“Prepare to find me irresistible.”
More laughter spills out of her and her eyes twinkle.
“Ooh. Did I find your kryptonite? Do hockey players doing hockey things really do it for you?” I ask as I lead her back into the house. “And after all my efforts to walk around shirtless and flex my abs all week.”
20
HANNAH
“Better, Hannah, but you’re still off direction. Look at where you landed. Straight arms. Ankles together. Stick the landing every time.” Coach Rodier claps once and nods for me to do it again.
We’ve been working on vault today, breaking down every part of the routine before piecing it together. Skills I thought I had mastered years ago are suddenly too difficult for me. I feel like the biggest fraud to ever step foot in this gym.
I channel all that frustration as I walk back to the end of the runway. I fight the negative thoughts that ask me what the hell I’m doing here, and why am I spending so much money potentially wasting my time and Coach’s when I’m never going to get it. They’re thoughts I don’t truly believe but I entertain them anyway in a ten-second pity party. Before I turn to take my place and face the vault and Coach, I take a breath and release all the negativity. I can fucking do this.
I stare down the runway, psyching myself up. As soon as I start sprinting, something feels off. I realize as I approach the mat for my roundoff that it’s my timing. If I keep going, I’m going to enter too soon and likely miss the apparatus all together.
Coming up short, I look to Coach. “Sorry. I think I shortened my third step.”
Freaking amateur. I curl my hands into fists as I go back to the start.
I’ve only just gotten into position when Coach calls out, “Wait.”
I look up, focus broken, to see him walking toward me. I can sprint twenty-five meters, the distance to the vault, in three point two seconds. It feels like it takes three minutes for Coach to reach me. I’m already preparing myself for whatever he has to say. I like that he’s not a coach that doles out too much praise but today I’m doing enough berating of myself for the both of us.
“Close your eyes,” he says.
It’s surprise and not disobedience that makes me slow to follow his direction.
“Close your eyes,” he repeats.
My lashes fall like a curtain. It’s somewhat of a relief to be unable to see his disappointed expression.
“I want you to visualize the routine. Start at the beginning and move through it in real time.”
I’ve done this exercise so many times. Part of my weekly training now includes an hour of this daily, but even before coming to Premier I logged a lot of time lying in my bed and imagining what it would be like to train in this very gym, perfecting these skills. So much time it would be incomprehensible to anyone else.
