pace and direction. Do not pop that head up like a turtle."
I grimaced. Coach Madeline was starting to sound like Kova.
I didn't give up though. Not once. I fought through the tiredness and pain. If I didn't sacrifice myself in those moments and push, then what I wanted would become the sacrifice. I was too close to the victory tape to give up now.
Thirty-Six
Any exhaustion and fatigue I was dealing with earlier was long gone now.
A hot shower, four Motrin, and a cup of dark coffee would do that to you. Throw in some lemon garlic chicken and a detox salad, and I was ready to ride.
Too bad it was nine at night and I had nowhere to go. I hated this. The after effect following a long and demanding day made it difficult for me to wind down once I was home. I was restless, antsy, and anxious. I wanted to sleep, but there was no going to sleep until at least midnight. I was lucky if I got five hours of sleep, but it was never solid or straight through.
I had no homework. No one to talk to. And I didn't care to watch television. My body needed the rest, so it was a good thing, but I was jittery.
Alone, I sat on my bed with my knee bouncing, trying to read a book. My mind drifted every few paragraphs, I couldn’t focus. I thought about the meet coming up, my routines, how I was faring. A sharp pain shot through my chest. I was confident I had a good shot at testing elite the first time, but I frowned when I thought back to Kova's comment earlier today about my weight.
He insisted I had lost weight.
Standing up, I considered the floor length mirror. I ripped off my pajama shorts and loose shirt and dropped them to the floor. I took three steps and stood in front of the mirror in only a pair of panties. With wide, startled eyes, I stared at my reflecting image as I studied myself from head to toe.
My heart sank. Kova was on the money.
I had lost weight. A lot of weight—at least a good ten pounds, maybe more—which was depressing since I didn't have much to lose to begin with. And ten pounds on a gymnast of my stature was a substantial amount. I hadn't even noticed. My leotards were made to be snug, so were all my workout clothes. And I didn't take pictures of my scale and send them to my mom anymore. Though if I did tonight, she'd be happier than a pig in shit.
While I hadn't skipped every meal, thinking back, I'd skipped at least one a day. I wasn't starving myself, I just wasn't hungry.
As I pulled my hair up into a messy bun, my collarbone protruded and caused ghastly indents. Thank goodness for my Italian roots that blessed me with olive skin, otherwise I'd look sickly. My ribs strained against my skin when I inhaled deeply, displaying the length of the bones. While I could count each rib, there was no denying I still had elegant muscle definition. Toned and lean. Even my breasts seemed perkier. I turned around and looked over my shoulder, my gaze wandering down each visible vertebrate, and over my high, firm butt that highlighted gorgeous glutes.
In my eyes, I was perfect. When I really studied myself, I loved the way I looked and that's what mattered most. This was the best shape I'd ever been in to date. A smile spread across my face when I spotted the distinct thigh gap so many woman envied. My hand slipped between my legs, my fingers roaming the soft skin on my inner thighs. Arching my ass a little higher, I could see my supple sex through my tiny, white panties. My lips parted.
I loved the way I looked from this angle. A little sexy, a little innocent.
Walking over to the bed, I reached for my phone beneath the rumpled sheets and quickly shot Kova a text message. I'd been a bitch for no reason earlier and needed to make amends.
I'm sorry.
His response was immediate.
Coach: For…?
You were right, I lost a good amount of weight. I'm staring at myself…
I chewed my lip, debating whether I should tell him I wasn’t wearing anything, then thought screw it.
…naked in front of a mirror.
The corner of my lips curved as I stared at my phone, waiting. I felt like being promiscuous. Let him imagine me naked.