Read Online Blind Landing (Flipped #1) by Carrie Aarons - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carrie Aarons
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does a forward roll and lands splat onto the floor on his back.
“Sorry, we can’t just slap our balls in a pair of man huggers and go to work.” I grin, thinking about Spence in a pair of tighty whities.
I slide into a right leg split and pull my hair up into a ponytail, wrapping the tie four times around so that the hair is pulling the skin on my forehead back. I grab the tape up off the floor as I transition into a middle split, planting my elbows on the carpeted mat and tightly winding the white athletic tape around my left wrist.
“Why don’t you just wear Tiger Paws?” Spence shoots me a look as he takes out a NutriGrain bar and rips the package open.
I keep taping, starting on my right wrist. I could just wear Tiger Paws, a sort of hand brace that Velcros on and off for easy removal. They help gymnasts wrists stay strong, as after hours and hours and years and years of practice and meets, that is the body part that gets worn down the most.
“I think they hinder my hands too much. This way I have the wrist support, but don’t have to strap the Tiger Paws around my palms and fingers. It’s distracting to me. I can’t feel the beam as well.”
I move my body into a bridge, feeling my ribs and ab muscles stretch as I push back on my wrists in a backbend position. I push far enough and my back sounds like firecrackers, six snaps in rapid succession.
“Fuck your back is tight!” Spence laughs as I come down from my bridge, twisting left and then right to get a couple more cracks out of my back.
“Hey, some of us work really hard. Back cracks are the sign of a job well done.”
Spence’s face falls a little and I realize I’ve made a horrible mistake. It’s not his fault he can’t practice. “Spence, I’m sorry …”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Let’s get going. We’ve got some fear to conquer!”
He shoots to his feet and walks quickly over to the four beams facing the pit. My stomach goes sour, the need to flee so strong that I almost give in and start running for the door. It’s embarrassing enough handling this problem on my own. But to openly stand there, frozen to the beam, in front of Spencer? My neck heats with shame just thinking about it.
“Hey, stop it. We’re going to get you through this. I’m the best coach around, or didn’t you know?”
Right. He’s only doing this as a coach. This has nothing to do with the fact that we’re flirty friends. But I have seen him with the male gymnasts. He’s a phenomenal teacher, having so recently been a superstar gymnast. He can teach things in ways coaches never could.
I mount the beam, swinging my legs up as if I was getting out of a pool and come to stand on the razor thin apparatus.
“Okay, so first, I want you to start with just doing a roundoff and then jumping into the pit.”
I roll my eyes. “I learned how to do a roundoff jump dismount when I was seven.”
Spence rolls his meadow-green eyes right back and scratches at the bronze scruff on his jaw. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Don’t answer that. I know you know how to do this. What I’m doing is breaking this skill down for you in stages. Showing you that you can do each individual part of the dismount in slow motion, so that eventually, your body will realize it can piece all of the skills together and nothing bad will happen to you.”
His idea is actually kind of genius. If I show my mind that I can do all of the skills apart, maybe it will unlock whatever is blocking me from doing them together.
“Okay, coach. Let’s give this a try.”
I launch myself down the beam, running on the four-inch piece of wood in front of me like it’s a runway. I flip my body into a roundoff and spring off of the end of the beam, hitting the foam blocks in the pit with a dull thud.
“Nice roundoff.” Spence smirks down at me from the spotter’s block he’s standing on next to the beam. Coaches stand there to help gymnasts with tricks, but mostly it’s a mental
“Sorry, we can’t just slap our balls in a pair of man huggers and go to work.” I grin, thinking about Spence in a pair of tighty whities.
I slide into a right leg split and pull my hair up into a ponytail, wrapping the tie four times around so that the hair is pulling the skin on my forehead back. I grab the tape up off the floor as I transition into a middle split, planting my elbows on the carpeted mat and tightly winding the white athletic tape around my left wrist.
“Why don’t you just wear Tiger Paws?” Spence shoots me a look as he takes out a NutriGrain bar and rips the package open.
I keep taping, starting on my right wrist. I could just wear Tiger Paws, a sort of hand brace that Velcros on and off for easy removal. They help gymnasts wrists stay strong, as after hours and hours and years and years of practice and meets, that is the body part that gets worn down the most.
“I think they hinder my hands too much. This way I have the wrist support, but don’t have to strap the Tiger Paws around my palms and fingers. It’s distracting to me. I can’t feel the beam as well.”
I move my body into a bridge, feeling my ribs and ab muscles stretch as I push back on my wrists in a backbend position. I push far enough and my back sounds like firecrackers, six snaps in rapid succession.
“Fuck your back is tight!” Spence laughs as I come down from my bridge, twisting left and then right to get a couple more cracks out of my back.
“Hey, some of us work really hard. Back cracks are the sign of a job well done.”
Spence’s face falls a little and I realize I’ve made a horrible mistake. It’s not his fault he can’t practice. “Spence, I’m sorry …”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Let’s get going. We’ve got some fear to conquer!”
He shoots to his feet and walks quickly over to the four beams facing the pit. My stomach goes sour, the need to flee so strong that I almost give in and start running for the door. It’s embarrassing enough handling this problem on my own. But to openly stand there, frozen to the beam, in front of Spencer? My neck heats with shame just thinking about it.
“Hey, stop it. We’re going to get you through this. I’m the best coach around, or didn’t you know?”
Right. He’s only doing this as a coach. This has nothing to do with the fact that we’re flirty friends. But I have seen him with the male gymnasts. He’s a phenomenal teacher, having so recently been a superstar gymnast. He can teach things in ways coaches never could.
I mount the beam, swinging my legs up as if I was getting out of a pool and come to stand on the razor thin apparatus.
“Okay, so first, I want you to start with just doing a roundoff and then jumping into the pit.”
I roll my eyes. “I learned how to do a roundoff jump dismount when I was seven.”
Spence rolls his meadow-green eyes right back and scratches at the bronze scruff on his jaw. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Don’t answer that. I know you know how to do this. What I’m doing is breaking this skill down for you in stages. Showing you that you can do each individual part of the dismount in slow motion, so that eventually, your body will realize it can piece all of the skills together and nothing bad will happen to you.”
His idea is actually kind of genius. If I show my mind that I can do all of the skills apart, maybe it will unlock whatever is blocking me from doing them together.
“Okay, coach. Let’s give this a try.”
I launch myself down the beam, running on the four-inch piece of wood in front of me like it’s a runway. I flip my body into a roundoff and spring off of the end of the beam, hitting the foam blocks in the pit with a dull thud.
“Nice roundoff.” Spence smirks down at me from the spotter’s block he’s standing on next to the beam. Coaches stand there to help gymnasts with tricks, but mostly it’s a mental
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