Liv
Hunter’s fingers have been laced with mine since our last rest stop. Every nerve ending in my body is on high alert, even forty-five minutes after that insane make-out session in the parking lot that fogged up the windows to the point where we had to run the defroster at full blast before pulling back onto the freeway.
I’ve never wanted anyone like this. I’ve never felt such an adrenaline rush; not even when I take the mat at competitions. This is so incredibly different – a combination of nerves, heart palpitations, and pulse-throbbing desire that makes me want to scream out with joy and shed tears of agony because my longing for Hunter has been pent-up for far too long. And before this weekend, I’d had no indication or hope that said agony wouldn’t eventually choke me to death.
Being with the person you love and knowing he returns those feelings – God, there is just nothing better. No national championship trophy can come close to comparing to the constant butterflies or incessant tingles, nor the smiles that I just cannot stop from spreading across my face just because. Nope, this truly is the best thing in life. And after all of this time, I finally get a chance to experience it. The real thing.
I peek out the window to see dusk settling over the lush green campus. My love-hazed mind has been on vacation for the better part of the last ten minutes, and I didn’t even realize we’d pulled into the gates. Hunter drives through the parking lot next to our dorm and pulls into an empty spot not too far from the entrance. I swallow hard. I want this. I really do. But…
Hunter puts the car in park and turns to face me, his eyes glimmering with need. “Liv…” he whispers, pulling me into his arms and brushing his lips against mine. They feel so good on my mouth. Soft and gentle, yet oh so hungry…
The kiss is broken without warning, and a cool breeze flutters between us, chilling my insides. No, no, no…why is he stopping? I don’t want him to stop!
At least, I don’t think I do.
He strokes the back of my head, his forehead pressed against mine. “Liv.”
“Yes?” I whisper, still breathless from that kiss. My skin prickles under his heated gaze.
“I’ve never allowed myself to feel this way about anyone before. And I need to make sure I don’t mess things up.”
I nod because the lump in my throat is just too big for words to push past.
“That means waiting.”
“W-waiting?” My voice trembles, but if I’m being honest, there’s a flicker of relief in the depths of my heart. I mean, yes, the fantasy is in full force. It has been for quite some time now. I’ve dreamed of Hunter being my first, but he’s right. It’s too much, too soon. And it will make life so much more complicated than it needs to be right now when the greatest pleasure I can possibly feel comes simply from being here next to him. I’m not ready. We’re not ready. And thank God he is strong enough to say it.
He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear and leans in to brush his lips against the side of my face. “I want it to be perfect. Something worth waiting for. Your first time…your first time with me…is going to be nothing less than amazing. But I want to make sure you’re ready, and I think we need some time.”
“You’re right.” My lips curl upward. “Wow, who’d have ever thought Hunter McKinnon would ever speak those words to a girl? Your reputation would take quite a hit if word got out.”
He smiles. “Let it. I don’t need it anymore. I’m already staring at my forever.”
Hearing those words will never get old. Ever.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to let out a squeal of sheer delight every time he tells me something delicious like that. I could melt into a puddle of goo right here where I sit, captivated by his half-hooded gaze, but it’s not completely dark out here, and I don’t really want to put our whole Titanic steamed-up car window scene re-enactment on display for the entire campus.
I’d much rather put on that show behind closed doors, although it doesn’t look like it’ll be running tonight. I step out of the car as Hunter pops the trunk and hoists our bags over his shoulders. The sky is a blue-purple color, the horizon a deep orange. Such a striking contrast. The colors don’t look like they should belong together, but yet they blend so perfectly.
Just like us.
Liv
One Month Later
“Hold still. If you keep blinking, I’m going to poke your eye with the mascara wand,” Cori warns, waving it in front of my face to get my attention. “And stop chewing that gum so furiously. It’s making your whole face move.”
“Sorry, you know this gum is the only thing that relaxes me before a big comp.” I take a deep breath, stop chewing, and force my eyes to stay open so she can swipe on the mascara. “But I don’t want to aggravate my personal makeup artist. Nobody does me like you do.” I want to wink, but I don’t dare.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Cori snickers and dips a big fluffy brush in powder. She sweeps it over my face to set the makeup, then picks up a smaller one and taps it over my cheekbones.
I can feel a hot flush creep over my cheeks, and the butterflies that I thought had been reserved for the competition suddenly awaken from their slumber and swarm my belly like they’re trying to escape a net. But I know they’re for Hunter.
She peers at my eyes, tapping an eye shadow brush to her cheek. “You need a little more shimmer, and then we’re done! Now, close your eyes.”
My eyelids drift closed as the fluttering in my belly becomes even more persistent, if that’s possible.
“I’m really happy for you guys,” Cori says. “And I’m glad you both finally decided to admit your feelings. Lord knows, you guys have been carrying torches for one another for what feels like a million freaking years.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t in love with him all of that time.”
“Open your eyes.”
I comply, and Cori nods. “Perfect. And for the record, I suspect you were in love with him for a lot longer than you were willing to admit to yourself.”
I can’t argue with that, but regardless of how I may have felt, it wasn’t our time. It is now, and I couldn’t be more excited.
I unzip the hoodie that has been protecting my uniform from flakes of bronzer, face powder, and eye shadow. I run my hand over the dozens of tiny crystals encrusted onto the fabric and over the embroidered name on the front. My stomach churns.
Cori dumps her makeup supplies into a backpack and grabs my hand. “Come on, we’ll be late for warm-ups. You can be all lovey-dovey later. Now, you need to focus on killing this routine!”
We jog toward the arena where the practice mats are set up. The rest of the team is getting into formation so we can run through the whole routine.
A hand grazes my shoulder, and I twist around to see Coach Val grinning at me. “You ready, Liv?”
I give a quick nod, but my racing pulse is caught in my throat, and I’m afraid if I open my mouth to speak, my breakfast will end up all over her sparkly t-shirt.
“Hey, you’ve got this.” She points to the floor. “How’s the foot?”
“Wrapped up tight,” I murmur, sliding my hand over the top of my sneaker. Once we got back to school, I came clean with Coach Val and told her about the pain, as well as the excessive stress I’ve caused myself panicking over the possibility of a bad performance. Over the past weeks, I’ve worked with one of the athletic trainers to help me strengthen and condition it.
“Good,” her voice drops and her lips curl into a smile. “You know I don’t do the sappy thing, Liv, but it’s been a pleasure working with you for all of these years. You’re truly a world-class athlete, and today is just the beginning for you.” She puts her hands on my shoulders and looks at me. “I want you to go out there and show ESPN what we all already know, okay?”
My head bobbles, acknowledging her words, while I blink fast to keep the tears at bay. I have on way too much eye makeup to allow them to spill over. Eyelash glue isn’t waterproof. Just saying.
&n
bsp; Coach Val grins at me. “Pull it together, Larson. You worked far too long putting on your face this morning. Bring it on now, cry it out later.”
My lower lip quivers. “Okay,” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling of the Sport Center. It’s hard to believe that my college cheerleading career is coming to an end. All of these girls surrounding me, doing quad stretches and toe touches, are like my extended family. We’ve built a foundation of trust and acceptance. I mean, we fling each other in the air and fall into waiting arms, knowing they’ll be there to catch us. Some of these girls have had their hands in places I didn’t allow guys to touch for the longest time.
Yes, things are going to be very different after today. I’m leaving the comfort of one family and hoping to join another one. If things work out as planned, I’ll be relocating to Phoenix after graduation. And then, who knows?
I spit out my gum and run to the center spot to take my position. “Okay, guys! We’ve got this!” I glance around at my teammates with a big smile. “Ready?” I bellow.
The run through is flawless. All stunts go up at the same time, and nobody hits the floor. Thank God. Coach is happy, and I’m happy. The routine we’ve been perfecting is top-shelf, like nothing ESPN has ever seen from a college team. Excitement bubbles over as we walk over to the tumbling mats, and that’s when things fall apart. Landing a simple tuck should not be an issue, but three girls have already fallen. I cringe as I see two other girls dart off of the mat, heading toward a trash can. Oh God, what the heck is happening to my team? We’re falling apart at the seams, five minutes before we’re supposed to take the mat.
My heart thrums, and I eye the trash can, close to letting my own stomach erupt. Coach is with the pukers, rubbing their backs. I look up at the clock. We’ve got to move. It only took three minutes for us to unravel from our previous greatness. I need to rally.
“USC, you’re on deck!” A loud voice reverberates between my ears, and the egg whites I scarfed down for breakfast seem to be taking on a life of their own in my belly.
“Um, Liv?” Cori recoils a bit, biting her lower lip. “You okay? I’m seeing all shades of green on you right now, and let me tell you, it’s not your color.”
I clutch my stomach and groan. Jesus, is this puking thing contagious? I can’t have my head in one of these trash cans. I refuse to let anyone see how panicked I am right now, how I am pleading with my foot to cooperate for two minutes and thirty seconds so I can take my spot on the ESPN team, how I—
“Hey, Larson. Looks like you want to join the rest of your talentless teammates at Pukefest.” A giggle tinged with malice chills my blood, and I clench my fists.
I swallow hard, praying the egg whites stay put. I force a bright smile. “Gracie, nice use of alliteration. I guess they forced you to open some books once you got put on academic probation. Such a big-girl word for you. I’m impressed.”
Gracie flips her long dark ponytail and juts out her hip. She cocks an eyebrow at Cori. “Cori, you know you’re one cookie away from busting out of that uniform, right?”
Cori taps her middle finger against her cheek. “That’s the sign of a good fit, unlike yours Gracie. And speaking of baked goods, can we talk a bit about that muffin top you’re sporting?”
I roll my eyes. They always start with each other at competitions, and it’s always about weight, even though both of them wear a size two. It would actually be laughable - this frigid trash talk between them - if I weren’t so petrified to open my mouth.
“I know you slept with one of the judges after the last competition. I saw you go into his room.”
Cori snickers. “Were you stalking him? Or me?”
Gracie rolls her eyes and looks back at me. I keep my mouth shut for their exchange, just in case opening it may unleash a lot of stuff I don’t need to see. “That ESPN spot is mine, Larson.” She leans in really close; so close our fake eyelashes almost tangle. “Mine.” She nods toward the rest of my team. “You can’t carry everyone. They’ll never take first against us. You know it, and I know it.”
She plasters a big smile on her bright red mouth and gives a little wave. “Good luck, ladies. You’ll need it.”
“God, I hate her! I hope she chokes next time she’s puking up a meal.” Cori glowers at Gracie, who’s rejoined her team.
“Don’t say that,” I murmur. “You shouldn’t wish death on people.”
“I don’t want her to die. I just want her vomit to get caught in her throat for a little while. Just a bit of torture, that’s all.”
I manage a shaky giggle and rub my belly. “Okay, well, you know what they say about karma, right? I really wish you’d have reserved your comment for after our performance. I don’t need anything else messing with my head right now.”
Cori rubs my arms. “Liv, look. Here’s how it’s gonna go today. We’re taking first, and then you’re winning that spot. Get ready for greatness, girl!”
A tiny shiver runs through me. I press my fingertips to my temples and force myself to take a deep breath. This is it.
“USC, you’re up!”
Cori grabs my hand. We run over to our teammates for a big bear hug and say a quick prayer. Tears spring to my eyes. This is the last time I’ll be performing with these girls, with my second family.
“I love you guys,” I say. “Let’s crush it, okay? We’ve got this!”
A loud cheer erupts, and we run out to the mat, bright smiles on our faces, strong, united, like we own that trophy before we even scream out “Lady Chargers!”
The bright strobe lights flash all around us as we take our spots, the pulsating applause of the crowd making my palms sweat. This is it…this is it… Nothing matters right now, nothing except this routine. For the next two minutes and thirty seconds, my life is on hold, as it always is when I take the mat. The judges are out there waiting. Gracie is on deck waiting. My foot is in Cori’s hand waiting. I can barely breathe, but I make sure my smile never wavers. Not for a single second. And when my stunt group lifts me into the air in T minus two seconds, when our music blasts through the speakers, I’m going to show ESPN what they’ve been waiting for.
I peer out into the sea of blurred faces, looking for one person to focus on, but it’s so dark in the arena. I can barely pick out anyone even remotely recognizable. Until my eyes meet his. The deep green flames that can sear my insides, the half-hooded ones that make my knees quiver and my heart pound out of my chest, the ones with the mischievous twinkle that always forces a trickle of nervous laughter from my lips because I know what comes next.
His lips curl upward, and I let out a shaky breath. Now I’m ready.
“Ready, guys?” I whisper to my group.
Cori squeezes my foot. “Break a leg.”
Ding! Ding!
The music vibrates the mat beneath our feet, and I’m high in the air, kicking out one leg behind me in a perfect liberty pose. I suck in my core for balance and pull my leg into a scorpion position, my grin so wide, I’m afraid my face might just crack. The crowd goes wild, and I know we all hit our stunts. One, two, three, and my body is launched upward, defying gravity for a brief second as I twist and turn, landing cleanly in their firm grip. My feet hit the floor, and I’m ready for my tumbling pass. I run from the back corner of the mat, full speed, sailing through the air the way I was meant to do. Round-off, back tuck, double full, and back again. Breaths come fast and furious, but it doesn’t slow me down. I land a back tuck into my stunt groups’ hands and they hoist me back into the air. I take a quick look around to see all of my girls sassing it up for the audience, and they love it. The hoots and catcalls give us the extra charge that makes us kick it up about ten more notches.
I’m in the air, singing along with the music, my hands gripping the feet of the flyers on either side of me while they arabesque. I push off on their heels, sending them back into the air before they spiral back down to the mat. My group sends me back up into the air for our final pyramid, and we’re in the home stretch. If we
hit this, we’re a shoo in for first.
“Guys, we’re almost there! We’ve got this!” I shriek as they lift me. I suck in my gut and launch my body into a back tuck where the flyers positioned behind me grab my feet and send me up another level. Top of the pyramid, top of my game, top of the world.
It doesn’t get more amazing than this.
One more back tuck, and I land on the shoulders of the next highest flyer. She grabs my feet and straightens her arms. My arms go up, my fists punching the air in victory. That gold is so close I can taste it.
I begin my descent down the pyramid, one front tuck at a time, and my feet hit the mat. Hard.
I swallow a yelp and force the smile back onto my face. I can do this. I have about ten more seconds to go. No way am I spoiling this last part for everyone. Deep breaths, deep breaths.
My hands are out in front of me as I run into my final double-back-tuck double-full combination. I sail through the air, blinded by the flash of light that follows me across the mat with each tuck and twirl. And the second I stop moving, the tears stream from my eyes. I hit the mat, feet first, the official finish of our routine. A sharp pain winds over the top of my foot and up my calf, like a poisonous vine of torture that keeps me rooted to the spot. The crowd roars in response to our perfectly executed routine, but I can’t move. My shoulders quake, and I sink onto the mat, clutching my foot.
The medics rush onto the mat, their faces blurry through my tears. “Can you move? What hurts? Is it your foot? Your ankle?”
They pepper me with questions, but the sobs are too fierce. I can’t utter a single discernible word. Cori and Coach run back out and hover around me.
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