As long and as tiring as my practice days were, they flew by in a blur. I blinked my eyes and another competition was in sight.

Before we left, I had another round of the platelet rich plasma injected into my Achilles, though, I didn't mention it to Kova. I also gave myself an extra shot of vitamin B12 because my energy was low to the point I could hardly keep my eyes open at practice. I never thought the day would come where I would leave early, but I think Madeline saw how bad off I was. She didn't hesitate or give me a hard time when I asked to go home. She just said she'd see me tomorrow.

I crashed the moment my face hit my bed. I slept for a solid thirteen hours straight and woke up completely disoriented and in the same position I'd fallen asleep in. I did some reading online and found that my iron levels could be down, so I ran to the pharmacy and picked up a bottle of iron. I took two then, and another two later in the night. I figured it couldn't hurt.

I wondered if Kova would've let me leave early the way Madeline had. I missed half a practice plus tutoring and then another half the following day. But he wasn't there, and he wasn't going to be at the meet, so I didn't see the need to tell him. Madeline had just as much authority as Kova.

Kova hadn't been at practice all week, which I found extremely strange. Madeline was tightlipped and all she told us was that he was home and extremely ill. I didn't inquire too much because that would raise suspicion, and neither did any of my teammates, but I found it difficult to believe Kova would miss practice if he was sick.

With Kova absent from this meet, I felt naked and empty. Like my other half was missing. We'd been glued at the hip since I came to World Cup, so not having him with me was foreign.

Codependency and all that jazz was a real thing. I missed the arrogant Russian and his encouraging words of wisdom. I needed him with me.

I glanced down and my eyes caught the fading yellow circle on my leg as I slipped on my wrist guards. Injecting the B12 into my hip had been more painful than I expected, especially the following days when I worked bars and my grip slipped, causing me to slam my hips down. The pain took my breath away. The injection site on my hip was still tender, but it hid the bruising well, so I forced myself to grin and bear it.

This meet was a little bigger and on podium again. I had more competition this time around, but nothing I couldn't handle.

"Ready to roll?" Madeline asked. I nodded with a straight face and she waved me toward her. I pushed any pain my body was going through out of my mind. I relied on Madeline a lot and I think she noticed it because she kept checking on me. I stuck to her side as much as I could and absorbed every little thing she said.

I'd been to hundreds of meets since I started gymnastics over ten years ago, and every time I got butterflies in my stomach. Every time my nerves went haywire and it put me on edge. I shook it out, but the truth was I loved the adrenaline rush because I loved to perform.

"Remember, what we discussed. You've got the handspring and block down pat, just drive those heels and stay tight. Chin down and crank it hard." I nodded again and remained tight-lipped. She patted my shoulder. "Show them who owns the vault."

I smiled. Vault was my specialty, but one of my biggest fears was that I would trip while I was running.

Chalking up, I eyed the vault, visualizing my skill. When the judges gave me the okay to go, I only had a few seconds to salute them then step behind the white line. From the corner of my eye, I could see Madeline nearby, hands on hips, ready to study every detail when I took off running.

Within seconds, my feet punched the springboard and I was flying in the air, executing my skill, one that put me ahead of the other competitor's due to the difficulty of it. I stayed as tight as I could, legs together and straight, as I quickly thought about my coach's suggestions. Just like me, judges had one chance to take it all in. There were no instant replays in gymnastics like other sports. Judging is done in real time and it happens real fast.

When I landed, I knew. I knew I stuck my dismount. Not because I didn't move my feet, or take a step, but because my form was perfect in flight along with my dismount. I could feel it in my heart that there was no possible way it could have been any better. A stuck landing in gymnastics was monumental and always exciting because it was so challenging to achieve due to the complexity of the skill—and physics.

My teammates, my coach, the crowd, they all cheered and clapped. A massive smile shaped my face as I saluted three times before I leaped down the steps to greet Madeline.

I received high fives and smiles from all the girls.

"Gotta give it to you, Red, that was pretty incredible," Reagan said. My heart raced as I caught my breath. The amount of adrenaline pumping through my veins gave me a high like I could take on anything. I couldn't stop smiling. I felt like I was six-foot-three in a five foot, ninety pound body.

Madeline rushed me, pulling me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe. She pulled back and gripped my shoulders and shook me with excitement. "Well done! It couldn't have been any better! Girl, you keep on impressing me. What a way to start the competition. You're a true performer," she said. "How are you—" She started but my score flashed. We both glanced up at the same time and read the numbers.

My heart dropped.

Chills broke out on my arms.

Silence surrounded me.

I stared at the numbers, not believing what I saw. Madeline mumbled as we gawked side by side. She was just as stunned as I was. There was no way I had received that score. There was just no way. A perfect score was rare and incredibly difficult to accomplish. My score was too good to be true because that meant my vault had been nearly flawless, nearly perfect, nearly the best. I knew in my gut I had done well, I just didn't know how well.

My smile grew until my cheeks throbbed. I was only a tenth of a point from getting the perfect score. That meant I got all the points for difficulty.

Madeline glanced at me, her eyes gleaming with pride. I threw myself into her, jumping into her arms, something countless gymnasts have done when they're overcome with excitement. She squeezed me so tight and I smiled against her.

"Excellent, Adrianna. Unbelievable job and score. I knew you had it in you, but you continue to surprise me every day," she said.

Madeline released me, and I stood before her, so ecstatic I could barely see straight. That score put me in the lead on the first rotation.

"Keep that up and you'll be unstoppable."

"We will be unstoppable," I corrected her. She was just as much part of the team as Kova was, and I wanted to make sure she knew that.

"Get your mind focused on bars. Execute another flawless routine like you just did on vault and no one will be able to beat you today." I nodded. "I'm telling you, girly, you're one of those gymnasts who come out when they perform. I didn't expect it." Madeline turned away with a smile.

Bars was also my jam. My heart fluttered just thinking about it, anticipation flowing through me. I wasn't worried in the least when it came to bars, not anymore. I moved between the high and low bar effortlessly and smooth as silk. Vault and bars were my specialty events, the ones I did extremely well on and could perform more difficult skills the majority could not. Whereas beam was Reagan's specialty.

Once I had bars behind me, another almost perfect score, the rest of the competition flew by. I was on cloud nine and dominating the meet. My scores continued to blindside me—and my coach—and when more than one gold medal was draped around my neck, the only eyes I sought in the sea of coaches and gymnasts were a pair of bright green eyes that had made this all possible.

If only Kova was here to celebrate with me.

Later that evening, I couldn't sleep. My body was depleted of all energy, but my mind was running wild with thoughts of Kova and how I placed at the meet. I wanted to tell him how I did, but I needed privacy. I glanced around the dimly lit hotel room. Grabbing my cell phone from the night stand, I quietly got out of bed and achingly made my way into the bathroom so I wouldn't disturb the girls. The last thing I needed was Reagan to see me on my phone in the middle of the night. I decided if she, or Holly, or Sarah woke up, that it wouldn't seem strange if I was in the bathtub; so I quickly filled the tub and undressed, then got in.

Reaching for my cell, I leaned back and texted Kova.

Much to my surprise, three little dots popped up and he responded immediately.

I had no idea she had messaged him, but I was happy she had. A small smile slid across my face and my fingers started moving.

My smile grew bigger and I tried not to laugh at his typo.

My brows furrowed at my phone.

I giggled to myself and shook my head at his mistake.

I laughed. Typical of Kova to get dickish with me.

I was full on grinning now.

Moments later, Kova texted me a photo with the caption: You make me happy. My heart fluttered in my chest. He was slumped against a couch looking comfortable and cozy, a slight smirk curved the corners of his lips. His eyes were heavy and glossy, almost lazy, with slightly flushed cheeks. He wasn't looking at the camera though, it was like he had stared at himself while he attempted to take a picture. He clearly had no experience doing this. I tried not to laugh. My eyes traveled down past his face. I noticed a thick roped silver necklace, and a crisp white dress shirt that was unbuttoned and hanging open to reveal his fine chest. Damn man looked sexy as hell.

Yeah, he was drunk. I covered my mouth to hold back the laughter. I felt like I could hear him saying my name.

I chewed my lip and butterflies swirled in my stomach. I hadn't expected for the conversation to go this way, but I wasn't objecting to it either.

Just when I least expected it, Kova texted me a photo. It wasn't a real dick pic, but it was close enough. With his legs spread wide and his black dress pants unbuckled with the zipper down, his hand was deep inside, gripping himself. Kova never wore boxers so I could see the fine black hairs that led down to his thick length. A strong vein swirled around. I wished he'd move his hand. My mouth watered at the sight of how erotic it was to see a man like this.

Surprisingly, he did, but he teased me. My brows raised at the vein I loved so much on his pelvis that swirled down his length. His penis was out of his pants, hard and erect like it was ready to explode, and his hand was fisting the head.

Another image came through and my jaw dropped. All the air left my lungs. I struggled to breathe at how incredibly hot the photo was of Kova squeezing the head of his cock as his thick and creamy cum dripped down his shaft and leaked between his fingers.

It was all I could say. No way would I tell him what I was actually thinking. I couldn't even admit it out loud to myself, I was too embarrassed.

I was going to need to get a sneaky app like Kova's because this photo was one I sure as hell wasn't deleting.

He told me, and I immediately downloaded it. Later I would save our photos and videos to it.

The water was getting cold and I was suddenly overcome with fatigue. As the water drained, I typed.

And I did. The ache in my heart was proof. I didn't like that he wasn't at the meet with me. I felt like I was missing a part of myself.

Quickly, I stepped out of the bathtub and got dressed. I found I was much more liberated when it came to texting Kova. I'd never say this in person or even suggest it. I glanced down at my phone, but he didn't respond.

The three dots appeared, and I waited for his message before I left the bathroom to read it. I stood there waiting until my legs couldn't handle my weight any longer and my eyes were falling shut. The message never came. I left the bathroom and headed to bed, confused, wondering why he was drunk on me…all week.