“This,” he says, pointing at the two of us. “The awkwardness.”
I force a swallow down. I could pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about, but that’d be another lie, one that would be much harder to hide.
“We’re good, Finn. I told you.”
“Then why are you like this?”
“Like what?”
“All…formal and shit.” His lips twist to one side, and for a moment, the emotion in his eyes almost makes me break. He looks…sad. Not like Finn. “I don’t like it. I want my old Lexie back.”
“Iamhere,” I say. “We’re good. I swear.”
And, really, it’s only half a lie. I do believe his side of the story. Despite being hurt, I know Finn’s not a liar. He’s a good person, and if he says he had somewhere else to be, then that’s what I’ll believe. There was also the black eye that corroborated his version of things.
Still, it doesn’t mean that night wasn’t a wake-up call for me.
There’s a reason why I barely have anyone in my life. It’s not because I enjoy spending my time alone. It’s because being alone is better than expecting someone and ending up disappointed. My loneliness is a cocoon I’ve found ways to make comfortable, and getting out of it didn’t bring me any good. It’s also why I decided from a young age to bet everything on gymnastics—because it can’t hurt me. It can’t make me feel less than. It can’t leave me alone. It’s not dependent on someone else showing up. It’s there 24/7, on good days and bad, and if I work for it, I can have it all. And while I deviated from that thought for a little while, this sting brought me back on track.
Plus, Finn is the first good friend I’ve made in who knows how long, and I’m not just talking about friends to chit-chat with and train together. I’m talking about someone I actually trust with myself. Someone I know will listen to me and who will be there for me when I need him. Dating is not worth losing that person in my life. I need a friend much more than I need romance. It doesn’t matter that I see him as more than a friend. If we can have that and preserve it, that piece of gold in a mine of coal, then I can live with not having it all.
“We don’t feel good,” Finn says.
The distraught look on his face kills me. If he can’t recognize his Lexie, then I definitely cannot recognize my Finn without his annoying smirk. Realizing I’ll need to be more convincing than that, I walk to him and grab his arms. I pretend I don’t notice the way his muscles tense under my fingers.
“Finn. We’re fine.” When he still doesn’t blink, I go for the big guns and pull out a teasing smile. “Now stop being a cry baby and help me get good pictures for my socials, will you?”
His expression remains tight for a moment, but I know I finally convinced him when he cracks a smile, sunshine spilling through a blanket of clouds. “All right.”
In all honesty, I had no plan of doing that tonight, but now that he’s here, might as well make the best out of it. After New York, I got a few of my sponsors back, and while I’ve been trying to grow my platforms as much as I can, itishard to get good pictures by myself. Makeshift tripods don’t always do the trick.
Finn goes to turn on all the lights in the gym while I walk to the mirror lining the walls, to make sure I don’t look like an absolute troll, and once I think I’m good, I get back to the beam.
“Ready?” I ask
He nods, his phone already held up.
I try to pretend he’s not there as I go through my routine again, but now that I know he’s staring, it’s much harder to focus. I can almost feel his gaze on my skin.
“Stick that pose for a second,” he says as I climb on one foot with my other leg held to my nose, almost like a ballerina. I do as he says, and after a few seconds, I resume my routine.
“That’s pretty,” he says after one of my favorite jumps, and despite myself, I smile. Complimenting me is one thing, but complimenting my skills always feels so much better.
“So, when’s the next competition?” he asks after I’ve finished my first combination of acrobatics.
“Two weeks,” I say tightly while I go through a turn, focusing on not making a strange face for the pictures. “In St. Louis.”
“You feel good about it?”
“Sure,” I say. I’ve worked on the things I could have done better in New York, but even with routines that are more difficult, I don’t think they can get me to the top, as clean as they are. Not if Clara Popov stays in the running.
“Wait,” Finn says as I get into position for my double turn, the one where I’m almost seated on the beam. He jogs in my direction, and when he reaches me, he lifts a hand and says, “May I?”
I have no clue what he’s about to do, but I nod, almost in a daze. I both anticipate his touch and fear it might be too much.
And yet when his knuckles graze my cheeks as he places a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I need to fight every instinct inside me not to let my eyelids flutter.
It only lasts a second, but I still feel like his fingers stay in my hair longer than they need to. And while it might not be appropriate for friends, I still want to lean further into his touch, keep it there just a little longer.
