I held my position while I listened for the faint que of music to begin.

While I excelled in two other events, I loved floor. It was my absolute favorite. A classical melody reverberated around the room. I began counting in my head, flowing freely and softly as a feather into each skill that took me into the corner for my first tumbling pass. Bringing my arms down gently, I took a deep breath and exhaled as I eyed the corner at the opposite end of the floor.

Gearing up for the first of four tumbling passes, I took fewer steps and hurdled into a round-off, extending my back handspring, and threw a double layout…and controlled the landing without taking a step back.

I smiled from ear to ear, knowing I executed my first pass well and spun around, leaping through the air into a switch ring plus tour jeté full with all my heart. I put on a display, my love for the sport emerging wider and broader as adrenaline pumped through my blood. I couldn't stop smiling, feeling every bit of my choreographed routine I spent countless hours perfecting. Floor could be so technical at times, losing the softness and grace that once went hand in hand with the event. Kova and Madeline were adamant about exhibiting fluidity and elegance, keeping that aspect front and center. They pressed about exhibiting a sophisticated, well-oiled gymnast. And that's what they got from us. From me.

Spotting the corner, I stepped into the half circle drawn with chalk and brought my arms down. I panted, inhaling a deep breath into my lungs and remained calm. This tumbling pass required more steps to gain the momentum I needed. Starting off with small steps, I ran halfway across the space into stronger, longer ones, and punched the floor with both my feet, knees locked straight. Arms raised above my head, I flipped heel over head forward into a front layout—my body straight as a board—punching the floor again into a front-handspring, exhausting my shoulders to pop off the floor with all the muscle I could to flip forward into a full-twist. I punched the floor again and finished with a front tuck.

No extra hop or step in my landing. I stuck the tumbling pass. Yes!

A modest smile displayed on my composed face. I had squeezed and tightened every muscle in my core during the tumbling pass, and then even more so at the end to prevent myself from shifting. I wanted to keep the rhythm going but first prove I could settle into clean landings.

With frontward facing passes, a gymnast could rebound so far forward and out of bounds from the power generated if they didn't practice control. Or sometimes end with a leap to cover up the mistake, which never passed the judges keen eyes. They always knew. It was easier to tumble head first than backwards in general, and adding a front tuck to the end of my pass helped control it a bit more for me.

I'd rather tumble backwards. But that was just me.

I spun around on my toes, leg extended high above my head, clutching my ankle. I pulled it firm to my chest and turned in two full circles. For whatever reason, a turn on floor or beam were always harder than any neck breaking tumbling pass out there. It was bizarre. You'd think it would be the other way around.

With tasteful poise and agile paces, I lowered my leg and pivoted a few paces until I was tight to the corner to execute my last tumbling pass, a double back tuck.

Like a colorful ribbon standing out and floating through the chalky air, I concluded with a brilliant smile. A floor routine no more than ninety seconds long, and I was on fire, full of zeal and energy and heavy breaths. God, I loved floor.

Quickly, I saluted the judges and skipped my way toward my team. I did well out there and they knew it, judging by their ecstatic faces. Madeline gave me five and so did Kova, whose arms I jumped into for a hug. My knees bent and my feet came up behind me. It wasn't uncommon for gymnasts to hug their coaches so closely. It was just how things happened and no one questioned it. So much trust and faith went into the dynamics of the coach/gymnast bond. They're the ones who enabled the talent to be freed in the first place.

"Perfection," Kova said with his arms wrapped firmly around my back. He put me down. Laughter caught my attention and applause from Madeline before I made my way to the girls. All of them, even Reagan, gave me an approving smile, high fives, and good jobs.

I was floating on cloud nine. My heart beat faster and faster against my ribs, hardly a second to slow down. I still had one event left to compete, and my score was high enough to qualify Compulsory, even if I made a few mistakes on beam. I glanced into the stands again hoping to see my parents, but it was too tedious squinting at all the heads. Grabbing my items, my team rotated to the last event.

Within a handful of minutes, everything took a drastic turn. I remained rooted in my chair in sheer disbelief. One knee bounced rapidly and I chewed the inside of my lip. This was how much of a rollercoaster gymnastics could be on the psyche. One minute I was up, the next, I was severely down.

Reagan had fallen off beam.

Reagan. Had. Fallen. Off. Beam.

And yet, for some unusual reason I couldn't justify, I felt like I had fallen. Like our team had fallen. Balance beam was her event, the one she outshined everyone in the way I did with vault. It was her specialty. Gymnasts with specialty events rarely ever made a mistake. So when it happened, it was shocking.

"Don't let it bother you."

I glanced up at Madeline, unsure of when she appeared next to me. I was in a daze.

"It doesn't bother me… I'm just surprised is all." Did it bother me?

She gave me a knowing look. "Don’t let her mistake affect you up here." She tapped her temple. "You got this."

I pursed my lips together and nodded. "I wasn't expecting it." Reagan was good. She was incredible, I could admit that. The talent and skill were there, but she had no desire to reach further. She planned to compete in college and already committed to Louisiana State University. After that, she was finished with gymnastics. I respected her decision. She knew what she wanted just like I did. We were both driven, just driven in different directions.

Madeline's brows nearly reached her forehead. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You're just as good, Adrianna. You've come a long way, you got this. I have complete faith in you."

"Thanks," I said quietly. Madeline patted my shoulder then walked away as Kova strode up. He looked down at me and opened his mouth. Just before he spoke, I put up a hand.

"Are you going to say some inspirational shit again?"

He gave me a spicy grin and my stomached fluttered. Those green eyes of his, they left me breathless. I knew this look. The look that could influence me to do anything he demanded.

Of all the times to remain tactful and thick with discreet, Kova was on full display. A memory flashed through my mind. Kova had once told me that he liked the thrill our strictly off-limits relationship gave him. It made him feel alive.

He shook his head, his smile remained plastered across his handsome face. "I am just going to remind you to take a risk. I know how you feel about this event, but if you let go of all the negatives, all the positives will surprise you. Trust me. It is there."

I was beginning to think Kova had more faith in me than anyone alive, myself and my parents included. It was a startling feeling.

He glanced over his shoulder, my turn was fast approaching. "Tape on good?" he asked. I hitched up my leg and turned to show him the back of my calf.

"Good. Da-vai."

When he didn't disclose the meaning of the word he spoke in Russian, I asked him.

"It means, come on, let us go," he said, using his hands to speak.

"Let us go, or let's go? Since you don't use contractions I'm going to assume it's let's go."

He smirked. "Let's go."

One day, I would teach Kova how to use contractions. Just not today.

Exhaling a deep breath, I stepped onto the podium and walked with pointed toes toward beam. I cleared my mind and swallowed back. Once I was given the go, I saluted the judges and zoned in on the apparatus. My mind strictly on my routine.

I got this.

Mounting the four-inch piece of wood, I remained cool and poised as I confidently flowed into every skill. The beam wobbled slightly beneath me, but since I kept my control intact, I was more than good.

Standing at the very end of the balance beam, I raised my arms up and flattened them to my ears. One benefit of being short with this sport was that I could fit a lot on the balance beam combination wise, meaning I could add a jump or leap at the end of the combo for bonus points. With my focus on my toes, I sat back and executed the sequence required for this level—a back handspring, back layout, back step-out.

I stuck the landing without so much as a balance check and effortlessly glided into mandatory dance skills while remaining lithe and free-flowing. Nimble. Calm and confident. I made sure to hit the one hundred and eighty degree mark in my split to receive the maximum points. I'd done countless over split jumps as conditioning, and thankfully the flexibility Kova was able to create in my hips this past year helped tremendously.

Elongating my arms out to my sides, I controlled my breathing to prepare for my dismount. A balance beam routine was quick—no more than ninety seconds at most.

I sashayed then lifted one leg forward immediately turning into a switch leap, a gainer pike then a pivot turn in under a couple of seconds. Arms raised in the air, I eyed the end of the balance beam and took a deep breath and exhaled. Stepping into a round-off back handspring, I completed my dismount with a double back tuck, both feet together and sticking my landing.

Anxiously, I waited on the judges. I knew I qualified based on the previous events, but seeing the numbers is what made it valid. Seconds turned to minutes to what felt like hours.

I removed the sports tape while I waited and pulled on my sweats. I drank water, fixed my ponytail, tried to find anything to keep me busy to calm my nerves.

I heard the elation from my coaches and teammates before I saw the score. I looked up at the board and a massive grin spread across my face.

I had qualified for Compulsory with flying colors, even earning a few medals for myself and for the team.

I. Qualified. For. Compulsory.

Holy. Shit.

The feeling inside, the joy, the pure excitement and satisfaction of seeing I'd done it, was all too much to explain. I was rushed by my team and coaches congratulating me. The hard work, the grueling and demanding hours, had paid off and I couldn't be happier.

With one half of the meet behind me, all I needed to do now was do it all over again, but with different routines. Then, I would officially be elite.

I could do it. I just had to make sure I held back the tears of excitement until it was all over.