Chapter 6 #2
Turning around, I say, “Excuse us for a second.” Aleksandr takes one look at my face before walking backward a few paces. When I gaze back at my coach, she’s smiling innocently.
“Did you ask him to join us today?”
“No.”
I cock my head, and she lets out a chuckle.
“Alright, sort of. He came to me while you were at the broadcast desk and showed me his workout plan. It’s even more tailored to you than the ones Nora has put together.”
My temper flares subtly. “So, what? You asked him to hang out and wait for me to come back?” I don’t like that one bit. All training decisions and concerns should be run by me before they’re taken to others.
“He was here talking to some friends on the men’s tour, Nic. I simply told him you’d be joining me in a few minutes.”
“I explained why I don’t want to train with him.”
“And I understand that. You have your reasons, even if I don’t agree with the—”
“He told his sister I was out of shape. And allowed that to be broadcast to the worl—”
“But right now, we have no other options. You are so close to a breakthrough. You need consistency in your training. Aleks has all the same certifications as Nora and has been training Anya for over a year now.”
“That right there is another concern. He’d be leaving Anya to work with me—why?” And why would I agree to work with someone who, when I go head-to-head with his sister, will likely be rooting for her over me?
“That’s a question you’ll have to ask him. What I care about is that you’re the most capable player here without a major under your belt. On your best days, nobody can beat you. If Aleks can do what he has for his sister, imagine what he can do to get you to your goals.”
Crossing my arms stubbornly, I gaze at him over my shoulder. He’s watching us raptly, his shirt caught in the waistband of his shorts like he stretched and it got stuck. I hear Delilah’s teasing in my head before turning back to my coach.
“I need to trust the people on my team. You, Pen, and Nora are the team I built over the years. People I’ve worked with long enough that I can trust you with my life.
How can I work with someone I don’t trust?
” Another thought occurs to me. “What if it’s sabotage?
That’s the sole explanation for him wanting this so badly, right? ”
Karolína smiles kindly, fondness melting the blue of her eyes.
“Don’t trust him with your life. Trust me instead.
I’ll check the plan and see if I can get another opinion.
If they think it looks good and not like he’s sabotaging you”—she chuckles like the idea is outrageous, which makes my eye twitch—“we should move ahead with it.”
Maybe the idea of him sabotaging me is outrageous. We’re both adults and despite how overeager he seems to work with me, he’s also played his share of pro tournaments. Would he go so far to aid his sister?
I don’t know. I don’t know him.
Either way, I can’t brush off the paranoia. Changing any part of my training could throw everything off balance. I’m somewhat on the up. I’m not sure I would survive whatever my subconscious believes Aleksandr could do to me.
“Try it out today,” Karolina urges.
“Fine,” I grit out. “But I’m not going to be nice.”
“I wouldn’t be your coach if you were.”
I almost smile at that. When I spin once more and walk to him, shoving the papers into his chest, I say, “You may have convinced Karolína, but not me. I’ll do your cooldown, but that’s all. And stop going behind my back to my team. It’s not doing you any favors.”
“We’ll see,” he responds far too jovially for someone I’ve rejected no less than three times in the last week. “Let’s have you do half a mile on the treadmill, walking pace.”
I had a plan when I agreed to this, but it forms more fully now that he’s telling me what to do.
With a saccharine smile, I walk to the line of stationary bikes instead, changing the settings and jumping on the seat.
I pump my legs, gazing at Aleksandr. Where I expected the smile to be wiped from his face, hoped for a furrow in his brow, there are only two little upticks in the corners of his mouth.
It bothers me.
“You’re training your sister. Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” I ask him. “Especially considering how much she and I dislike each other?”
“Focus on your breathing. We’re in a recovery stage.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He sighs, the single indication that he’s affected by my behavior.
“First of all, if you agreed to work with me, I’d take a step back from her training.
But either way, to me, this isn’t about you versus her.
It’s about getting my players to their peak performance.
At that point, may the best woman win. I want you to be the best version of yourself physically when you step on the court.
I want the same for my sister. I think you do too.
You’d rather beat my sister at her best than win because she’s not in tip-top shape. ”
I hate that he’s right, so I don’t answer, focusing on my breathing and being slightly less childish than before.
Because, honestly? That’s the best answer I could’ve expected.
Nora never made any promises about getting me to a point where I would beat my opponents.
She focused on getting my fitness level up, week in and week out.
If he’s being honest, I can’t ask for more from my next performance coach.
After finishing on the bike, doing some stretching—wherein I did the opposite of everything he told me, like a lizard stretch when he asked for pigeon, to Karolína’s clear chagrin—and rolling out, I lie on the gym floor, thoroughly cool.
Aleksandr squats beside me, handing me a sheet of paper that wasn’t part of the original packet.
Confused, I ask, “What is this?”
“Look at it.”
Upon closer inspection, it’s nearly identical to one of the cooldowns he showed me. Except where he typed out treadmill on that one, he put stationary bike on this one. Where he had me doing pigeon stretch on that one, there was lizard stretch instead.
It’s the exact cooldown I just did. The whole time, I was trying to show we wouldn’t work, that I wouldn’t listen to him, and in doing so, I fell into his trap.
“Stubborn as always. Luckily, I planned for that.”
It’s clear from the tilt of his lips (god, does it ever stop?) that he finds the situation amusing, but I feel exposed. Uncharacteristically so.
“Congratulations,” I say flatly. “You figured out that I don’t want to listen to you. Do you think that makes you special?”
Aleksandr laughs, as if my being laid bare for him is funny.
It shoots me back to being seven years old, searching out people to be friends with at school, only to realize I was inadequate.
Gangly, awkward, unable to navigate a social situation without the very people I sought to befriend making fun of me.
“I suppose not. Anya hates listening to me too.”
My stomach roils at the idea that I’m anything like his bratty little sister, even if I did display a bit of childishness that has now backfired spectacularly. Suddenly, the noise in the room overwhelms me, and a familiar heat rolls over my shoulders. “It’s not funny.”
The mirth disappears from his expression, but it’s too late. I knew this wouldn’t work. I grab my bag, give Karolína a rough wave, and leave the players’ gym as quickly as I came, in dire need of a locker room shower.
“Nic, I wasn’t laughing at you!” he yells from the doorway I’ve left behind.
I don’t care. I can do this without him.