talking to the French gymnasts.”
I followed her finger and found June in a circle, smiling and chatting away without a care in the world.
“I don’t understand her,” Molly said.
Lexi turned to me with wide eyes. “Incoming.”
Before I could process what she meant, I felt a solid hand hit my lower back.
“Brie!”
I turned over my shoulder and locked eyes with Noah—sweet, handsome Noah. His bright brown eyes held my attention for a moment before I let my gaze fall down his body. He’d grown up since I’d last seen him; he wasn’t the boy I’d left at Worlds the year before. This version of Noah was a year older and half a foot taller.
“I thought that was you,” he said, bending to wrap me in a hug.
I inhaled his cologne and felt my heart flutter before he took a step back and gave me enough space to assess him. He was wearing black pants and a charcoal gray button-down rolled up to his elbows. His blond hair was a bit overgrown, falling over his forehead and adding to his boyish charm.
“You look good,” he said, raising a brow as he stole a quick glance down my body.
I laughed and thanked him before introducing him to Lexi and Molly.
“We’ve heard sooo much about you,” Lexi oozed. “Brie said you guys met last year at Worlds?”
He smiled wider, revealing a dimple on the right side of his mouth. “We became friends there and then I somehow talked her into going on a few dates with me.”
Molly perked up. “Oh really? What was she like as a girlfriend?”
I opened my mouth to correct her—I was never his girlfriend—but he spoke up first.
“Brie was…hard to nail down,” he said, eyeing me with mischief. “She had a way of always making me want more.”
Oh really? Because I remembered all but forcing him to try phone sex with me and him always seeming to redirect the conversation to his new protein powder.
“But now you’re both in Rio,” Lexi said, pushing me toward him. “So she should be easier to nail.”
“Nail down,” corrected Molly.
Lexi shrugged. “Whatever.”
I resisted an eye roll. “All right. I think he gets it.”
He laughed. “Come dance with me, just for a second, and then I’ll give you back to your friends.”
I peered over his shoulder at the small dance floor. There were a few couples lingering there, no one taking it too seriously. I figured the moment we hit the floor, cameras would swoop in; the media was always looking to shoehorn romance into their normally sterile sports pieces. Despite that, my previous experience with Noah told me it probably wouldn’t be an issue, so I let him take my hand and lead me over to the dance floor.
“I meant what I said.” He bent low to whisper against my skin, “You look so good, Brie.”
Noah seemed to have grown up; maybe now he wouldn’t be so clueless. I smiled and turned to glance over his shoulder as he wrapped his hands around my waist. There was a guitarist sitting a few feet away on stage, strumming a seductive tune that made slow dancing easy. I let the music wrap around me as I interlaced my fingers behind Noah’s neck.
“So how have you been since I last saw you?”
He shrugged. “Been training hard. You know how it goes.”
I nodded. “I’ve watched a few of your competitions.”
“That makes two of us,” he said, brushing a few strands of hair over my shoulder.
He led me across the dance floor, turning me gently so I could glide along with him. I tried to think of something to say, fully aware of the lull in conversation, but then I spotted Erik a few yards away. He was standing in a group of coaches, smiling at a woman as she spoke. He looked like the devil personified, dark and alluring. His black hair was styled in a way that made his sharp features even more unbearable. He was clean-shaven and impeccably dressed.
The sight of him completely stole my attention from Noah. He asked me questions as we danced and I mumbled replies, but my attention was on Erik—only Erik. He was wearing a fitted navy suit with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His espresso brown watch matched his belt and shoes. Until that moment, I hadn’t once considered Erik’s wealth. He kept it carefully hidden. He drove that beat-up truck and lived in his small cabin, but I knew hundreds—if not thousands—of gymnasts were shilling out