If he took satisfaction in me and his girlfriend being in the same room together. The urge to turn away was strong, but I knew I had to fight it, otherwise it would look odd.
"I am sure you can afford to eat whatever you want," Katja said, and took a sip of her coffee. "You are young and athletic. You have a great shape to your body."
"Yes, she is in terrific shape," Kova added, too pleased with himself. "Perfect for the sport. She is much better now than when she first came to me."
My cheeks flushed and I gave them a timid smile. "I guess."
"Ah, that is because you have a gifted touch and a sight unparalleled to others when it comes to the gym, statnyy."
Kova chuckled under his breath. I wish I knew what that word meant. "You flatter me." His voice was low and rough, and it tugged at something deep inside me. He kissed the corner of her mouth and she gave him a sultry smile in return.
"Katja, what kind of perfume do you use? I love the smell," I asked to distract my thoughts.
She turned and smiled sweetly. "Oh, I do not use perfume."
Kova snuggled her closer. I didn't understand.
"It is her body wash. I have it shipped in from Russia for her," he offered up.
Ah, okay. "That's cool." I wasn’t sure how else to respond to that.
They probably took a shower together this morning and he washed her body with her special smelly shit. I kept my grimace to myself.
"Why are you wearing that?" Reagan walked over to us with her nose pointed high in the air. I'd never been so relieved to see her until now.
I glanced down at my attire, then at hers. She wore the custom team uniform typical when traveling for gymnastics competitions, where I was in boots with knitted socks, dark jeans, long-sleeved shirt, and a chunky scarf. I didn't like to be cold.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked, confused. "You realize we're going to Pennsylvania in February, right? It's going to be freezing."
"Yeah, but not that cold. We’re supposed to dress up, you should know this." Her voice grated on my nerves, like nails on a chalkboard. "We're not going to Siberia, jeez."
I barked out a laugh. "I would need many more layers than this to go to Russia," I said. Katja chuckled softly next to me. "I'd need an Eskimo suit."
"I said Siberia," Reagan responded in her snobby tone. I covered my mouth and laughed. She looked around in confusion. "What?"
"Siberia is in Russia. I figured you mentioned it because of Kova and Katja. It's supposedly like the coldest town there."
Reagan looked down and fidgeted with her nails. "Oh."
"What do you care what I'm wearing? I'm not competing anyway. And the meet isn't until tomorrow night, no one will see us coming off the plane."
"I don't know… I figured you'd act like you're part of the team."
I saw red. "I am—"
"Ah, Reagan," Kova interrupted. He always said her name a little differently than the rest of us, like when people said tomato two different ways. "I told Adrianna she did not have to dress up." The austerity in his voice caused her to stand taller and close her mouth. He let go of Katja and stepped aside to face all of us.
He never told me that.
I smiled inwardly at his defense.
"All right, ladies," he said, and rubbed his hands together, "we need to leave in three minutes. Katja will be driving us to the airport where Madeline will be meeting us. Once we are there, you will not leave my side or Madeline's unless you ask. You all are old enough to know not to wander off, so this is the only reminder you get. When we arrive in Pennsylvania, we are going straight to the hotel. You are not to leave your room unless you phone me, or I come to you. Do you understand?" The three of us nodded in unison. "Once I get the itinerary from the gym, I will let you know. Since none of your parents will be present until later, Madeline and I will be your chaperones for now."
It wasn't uncommon for parents to arrive separately from their children. Gymnasts always traveled together with their coaches. We'd sleep together, eat together, get ready before the competition. We needed our heads in the game and our focus on the sport. No outsiders influencing us negatively, like pushy parents who lived vicariously