“Oh, yeah!”Tyler bounced on his toes, almost twitchy with the need to move.“I'll see you guys in the floor gym, right?”
“Five minutes,” Stephen agreed.
It was closer to fifteen minutes before eight muscular, young, enthusiastic guys were out there, running laps around the competition floor to warm up.Tyler watched his teammates as they ran, knowing they were doing the same thing to him.He nodded to Corwin, the oldest guy on the team at twenty-eight, dark and compact, and then kicked up his stride to pass Greg, with his power-shoulders showcasing all that bar and ring strength.Mark, who'd been named to the team at just nineteen, was much slimmer with lean lines that looked good on his specialty, pommel horse.His gaze was fixed on the floor ahead of him, his expression intense, as Tyler passed him.
Stephen was a blonder version of Tyler—except for the platinum hair, he could have been Tyler's twin, same build, similar height.He laughed and dug in to match Tyler stride for stride.They both carried enough muscle in their thighs for power on floor and vault, enough in their arms for rings and bars but not the kind of upper body that Greg had.Stephen was an alternate, although he had to have been damned close to making the team.Everyone looked fit, looked ready.This team was going to kick ass.A shrill whistle cut their warm-up short.They gathered in the center of the floor as Coach Andre stalked toward them, his assistants behind him.Tyler pulled himself up straight as the coach's gaze passed over him.Coach Andre stopped in front of them.
“I won’t make a long speech,” the coach said.“You're all top-level competitors.You know what the Olympics are.This is the big one.Whatever problems you have in daily life, whatever distractions, whatever bad habits, you leave them at the door.We have three weeks to become the team that stands at the top of that gold medal podium in London.I have confidence that each of you will dig deep and come up with the performance of a lifetime, and we’ll win this thing.From today, you have just one job: making this a team we'll all be proud of.
“Each of your regular coaches had his own way of doing things, but your asses are mine now.If something I tell you isn't clear, say so.Otherwise you will give me a hundred and ten percent, without question, starting now.Is that clear?”
The coach looked sharply at each of them, and Tyler found himself nodding eagerly with the rest.“Okay,” Coach Andre said.“7:00 a.m.every morning we meet here.For those of you not living on site—” He stared right at Tyler, the only Colorado native.“—traffic is no excuse; nothing is an excuse for being late.Start at seven, half hour warm up with your usual routines, then we'll split between the floor gym and the bars gym.Today, you show me what you’ve got.I’m going to pull each of you out tomorrow morning to individualize what you need.Lunch on site, no one wanders away.We'll finish at seven.You're free for the evenings, but I don't care what your old coach said, I don't want to hear about even one bottle of beer until those medals are around your necks.You relax, unwind, sleep.Clear?”
Once again the team did their bobblehead routine, although Stephen grinned at Tyler.
Coach Andre folded his arms, his stare cool and assessing.“Good.Twenty more minutes to warm up and I'll assign you to the equipment.Go.”
Tyler found himself against the wall with Stephen, alternating handstand push-ups with stretching.Stephen glanced at him upside down, as they dipped almost in rhythm.“This is gonna be great!”
Tyler rolled out of his handstand and dropped to a split, pulling his back leg up behind him to stretch his hip flexors.Ouch, damn, he hated that.Stephen followed suit, obviously a bit more limber than Tyler.Tyler grunted, “Is it tough being an alternate?”
Stephen's bright smile dimmed for a moment and then came back full force.“Not that bad.Anyway, I figure one of you old guys might have to take it easy and give me a chance.Two alternates made it into the last Olympics.I'm looking on the bright side, well, bright for me.”
“Old guys.Right.”Tyler switched legs, despite the little twinge from ass to knee it gave him.That was probably just the muscles, not his back.Probably.
Stephen's grin was unrepentant.“Just kidding.Sit-up speed contest?”
“Not on your life.”But Tyler had to smile back.He'd always loved being part of a team.Gymnastics was that odd mix, an individual performance that sometimes counted for a team score.Doing his best for himself was great, but doing his best for a team?That always pushed him one step farther, and this time that step would take him up onto the podium in London.He pulled his leg higher, ignoring the pain.Life was just awesome sometimes.
By the time he dragged himself home that night, awesome had faded a bit.Coach Andre was a tough taskmaster and he had a few favorite elements of conditioning that Tyler had stopped doing because they seemed to aggravate his back.He could have told the coach, but that would’ve meant confessing that his back still hurt, which he wasn't about to do.He could get through it.Going back to those exercises might even be good for him, to work some of the muscle groups he'd been neglecting, although right now he felt like road-kill.
For once Eli was home, sprawled on the couch with the TV on low while he drew in his sketchbook.He glanced up as Tyler dragged his battered carcass in the door and frowned.“The new coach was a slavedriver?”
“I wouldn't go that far.”Tyler wandered into the kitchen to get some bottled water and ice packs.
Eli set down his sketchbook and followed him.“Are you going to eat before you crash?”
“I should.”But bed sounded far more appealing.
“Here.”Eli dug in the refrigerator and pulled out a plate with a thick sandwich cut in quarters and a mound of grapes.“Eat that.”
“I can't eat your dinner.”
“I made it for you, doofus.I already had mine.I figured you might be dragging your ass after the first official training day.”
“Wow.”Tyler grabbed a piece.Through a mouthful of cheese and roast beef he muttered, “If you were gay, I’d kiss you.”
“I am gay.But given that you're spitting crumbs and just yuck, I'll take a pass.Do you want help with the ice packs?”
Tyler looked at him sideways as he wolfed down the food.“I thought you were mad at me.I thought you were moving out.”
“I am,” Eli said.Tyler's heart dropped painfully, even when Eli added, “As long as I'm here, I might as well lend a hand though, right?”
“Right.”Tyler was too tired to come up with any innuendo about where he wanted that hand.He dropped his empty plate in the sink and headed to his room.The bottle of painkillers stood ready and he popped a handful, chasing them down with the water.Automatically he pulled off his shorts and T-shirt and stretched facedown in his briefs on the bed with the tub of ice packs beside him.
The bed dipped as Eli sat on the edge.“Just the usual?”
Tyler muttered into his pillow, “Tweaked my right knee on a landing off the vault.”
