I could feel hers beating the same pace, but in an alternating rhythm.
Together our hearts filled every moment of time, never allowing for an instant where one of them wasn’t alive and active.
“Nik?” she called softly, her voice breathy but determined.
“Yeah?” I asked as I seated myself fully within her.
“I won’t ever forget this.”
My eyes closed tight, and my forehead touched hers. I moved my hands up her arms and linked our hands again.
When my eyes opened, I knew they were bright with affection.
“Me either, Cal.”
“Not ever,” she insisted.
I shook my head and started to move my hips as I reiterated, “Not ever.”
I knew it immediately. Her hot head and me, rational. The way she pushed when I pushed instead of shrinking back. The way she made me laugh and laughed for me like she wouldn’t anyone else. I knew the things that made her tick, and she knew how to hook me.
This moment, this feeling, the way we moved in sync like we’d done it forever.
We were better—
Together.
That’s how we always traveled to events in my parents gym, and the Olympic trials were no different. Most of the girls were traveling as spectators, or for a lucky few, as volunteers for the event. They’d act as runners for judges, communicating and shuffling scores, and getting water or other necessities. They’d help with the exchange of mats and equipment that needed to be moved, but mostly, they’d just get to live a childhood experience they’d never forget.
But coaches and gymnasts traveled in the same van, the same plane, the same train—whatever. It was one of the rules of the gym. And it hadn’t changed even now, at twenty-six years old and two Olympics deep.
But this time, it meant something different.
It meant traveling with Nik.
As I stood in line behind him at security in Atlanta International Airport a little less than two weeks after the first time we’d made love, my hands itched to touch him. Just to hold his hand and brush the ridiculous hair out of his face.
The problem with affection had shifted, going from inexperience and insecurity with the newness of it to the inability to stop doing it in just the matter of that time. The scrutiny and limitations traveling with my parents imposed only enhanced that urge.
He’d been wearing his hat all day, but with security regulations he’d begun the routine of stripping down. First went the shoes and belt, followed by the hat and sunglasses he had perched atop his head.
His jeans still looked good, and the laughable plain white t-shirt party had yet to end. I guess it made his outfits easy to coordinate, and the switch from athletic wear to motorcycle garb seamless, but I couldn’t help but laugh about it.
He heard me.
“What?” he asked, as he stepped away from the conveyor belt and into the line for the scanner machine behind several of the younger girls within our party.
They all laughed and giggled in front of him, too young to let the serious scrutiny of the TSA stop their antics for a second. My mom and dad had gone through first, so that they could be on the other end to keep track of everyone as they came though, and Nik and I were bringing up the rear to keep everyone together.
I could tell they were crushing on Nik, checking out his many assets and wondering what it’d be like to be with a guy his age. They weren’t coached by him directly, as I took up all of his time, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to romantically idolize him even if he was.
After all, no one knew how attractive and talented he was better than I did.
Cognizant of his tendency to poke fun at my expense, I nearly bounced on my toes at the prospect of getting back at him.
“Oh nothing,” I said loudly enough that everyone in the nearby area could hear. I waved a hand in front of my nose like a flag and scrunched my face in distaste.
“I was just imagining all the boys in the security office who just got a nice video shot of your fart.”
“What?!”
The girls behind him covered their mouths and giggled, bringing their free hands up to their noses to guard against the imaginary smell. They probably actually smelled it too, such was the power of persuasion.
I continued on with ruse, smirking more with every ounce of annoyance that coated his handsome face. “They’ve got an infrared camera, you know,” I explained with a smile. “It shows the cloud and everything.”
“Cal!” he whispered, exasperated.
I bit my lip to stop my smile.
God, he was cute when he got annoyed. Maybe this was why he poked at me all the time.
When the girls moved through the scanner and out of eye and earshot, I scooted up behind him and fit my body to his.
“Sorry, dear,” I apologized insincerely.
He smiled and shook his head, turning to look at me. “What the hell was that?”
I shrugged and put both of my hands on his hips. “The girls have a little crush on you.”
He scoffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure you can change that ‘have’ to past tense now.”
My smiled through a facial shrug. “Probably. Good thing my crush is still very much present.”
“Good thing, indeed,” he agreed, looking around before pecking me softly on the lips just one time.
His feet moved into an easy jog when I shoved him gently at the prompting wave of the screener. He held my eyes until he couldn’t anymore.
Hands above his head in the required position, the scanner scooted to one side and back again, and I used the brief window to admire the small strip of skin that had been exposed at the bottom of his t-shirt.
The process moved quickly, and I stepped into the machine just as a female TSA agent stepped forward to read my scan. Everything came back clear, and given permission to move on, I stepped forward to the conveyor belt and retrieved my belongings. Flip flops slipped on easily and my cross body bag passed easily over my head to settle on the opposite shoulder.
Nik was already halfway dressed, shoes on and his belt through the first three loops. My parents and the giggling set of girls stood ten feet away waiting.
I looked up to find my dad’s eyes watching closely, so I didn’t linger, instead scooting by a still dressing Nik and over to the waiting group.
One of the girls cleared her throat a couple of times after being pushed and prompted by the two others. I watched with curious disinterest until she finally got the courage to do what she intended.
It just so happened, the thing she intended was talking to me.
“Um, Calia?” she murmured timidly.
My eyes snapped into focus, taking in her sweet preteen face and the confident and mature way she held her body. In some ways, gymnastics forced you to grow up fast. It took more discipline than most adults could manage.
“Yeah…” I paused, hoping someone would fill in her name.
“Amanda!” all three girls answered at once.
I smiled. “You’re all named Amanda?”
Panicked eyes flashed between them as they hurried to explain.
“No!”
“No, just me.”
“She’s Amanda.”
“Right. Got it. So, just the one Amanda…what’s up?”
Her mouth curved up to frame her bright green eyes and a nervous hand reached up to twirl the end of her blond ponytail. “We were just wondering what it feels like to be in the Olympic trials.”
“Yeah! Is it intense?” one of the others chimed in.