Just a Number
Disclaimer: I don't own MIOBI.
Summary: What if Sasha never came to The Rock? He was never her coach, and she was never his gymnast. Now all that stands between them is the age gap . . . and the Atlantic Ocean. Not to mention his reputation, the competition, and the fact that everyone seems to have an opinion on how she should feel about him and nobody thinks he's right for her. Nothing between them but age, and well . . . it's just a number anyway, right?
.
Just a Number – A Good Night's Sleep
Payson tossed and turned in her bed, unable to get to sleep and unable to get the image of those blue-grey eyes out of her head. She blamed Lauren for the later, which was the ultimate cause of the former. Lauren had insisted on reprieving the conversation of Sasha Belov's best features (which were all of them as far as both girls were concerned) before they went to sleep, and because of that the male gymnast was now firmly lodged in her brain. Every time she closed her eyes she would see his face and found it quite impossible to find rest under such circumstances.
She sighed in aggravation, opening her eyes widely in a gesture of rebellion. She'd never been a restless sleeper. She could usually sleep anywhere – planes, cars, chairs, gym mats, and window ledges even, if her mother was to be believed – and yet thus far she'd managed to go nearly six hours without falling asleep. The bed was perfectly comfortable, and she considered their hotel here in Tokyo at the higher end of the spectrum when it came to hotel rooms, but none of that seemed to be aiding her in her near useless pursuit.
"That's it," she muttered as she sat straight up in bed and threw her legs over the side. Lauren made a small murmur of annoyance but did not wake, the gesture seeming to taunt Payson to the nth degree. If she had been in a more belligerent mood (and lack of sleep made her plenty belligerent) she would have spitefully forced Lauren to stay awake with her, but she kindly let the 'bitch of the beam' sleep, taking pity on her given the gruelling practice they'd endure in four hours time.
Payson dressed quickly, being careful not to make too much noise. If she wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, then at least she could do something useful like putting in a work out in the hotel's gym. She always preferred working out when no one was around, anyway, and so 3 am was honestly the best time for her to be working out. And if she thought about it in terms of Boulder time, it'd be like 11 am Boulder time and she'd have already been at the gym for five hours by then and probably about ready for a bit of conditioning training to harden her muscles.
She cringed at her own reasoning, knowing perfectly well that the logic was poorly grounded but that it was either working out or twiddling her thumbs for the next few hours until Lauren could reasonably be expected to be awake. She picked the gym only because she was the kind of person who couldn't stand doing nothing. A work out could always be something of value, provided she didn't work herself too hard.
There was one other person in the gym, but she ignored their presence, not even sparing a glance in his or her direction before placing her ear buds in her ears and stretching out her muscles. As she began her circuit, she was disappointed to find that having something to do didn't take her mind away from her current fascination. Still she thought of Sasha Belov, even as she pushed her body to extremes in an effort to drive her mind to distraction. Some part of her seemed determined to think of nothing but him until some other fascination took its place. When her eyes flicked briefly to the other occupant of the gym, she even thought vaguely that he looked a bit like Sasha, but gave her gym buddy no more thought than that given that she'd been comparing Sasha's looks to others in her head all night.
'Desperate times call for desperate measures,' she thought scathingly as she looked for something more concrete to distract herself. She extricated herself from the rowing machine, turning her music player to the short piece of music used for her floor routine. She took her place in front of the huge mirror covering two walls of the gym and began going through the motions in an almost habitual manner, going through toe touches and pirouettes and flowery gestures. Her expression remained stoic as she recalled each part, visualizing the tumbles and aerial stunts intermingled with these elements, until finally she finished, raising her arms in salute.
"Is that the dance element of your floor routine?"
Payson gasped at the sudden interruption, dragging the headphones out of her ears as she turned to face Sasha Belov in the flesh hovering nearby with a look of curiosity and interest. She nodded mutely, her own expression imitating that of a frightened rabbit.
He nodded thoughtfully, moving closer as he spoke. "You should . . ." he paused, his movements towards her frozen, "do you mind?" he asked, a slight gesture of his hands indicating what he was asking permission for.
"O-of cou-course not," she stuttered awkwardly, turning back to face the mirror so that he was now standing behind her. She realized the futility of her gesture as her eyes met his steely blue in their reflections – she had wanted a moment away from his gaze to find her bearings, but instead she'd found herself with those same eyes upon her more intensely than ever.
"You need to tense your core," he said, pressing his hand to her stomach, "and push back your shoulders." She did so automatically, more because of the warmth of his hand seeping through her thin, cotton singlet than in actual response to his instructions.
With his free hand, he lifted her arm from her side, guiding it up until it was parallel to the ground. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as he slowly guided his hand down the length of her arm, each muscle tensing and lengthening as he moved against it until he reached the very tips of her fingers. His other hand finally left her stomach, and he did the same with her other arm until both were held tight in line at parallels to the ground. He moved to in front of her, lifting her chin ever so slightly with a light stroke of his finger to her jaw.
"Do you see?" he asked her, frowning as he tried to find the right words. "You need to elongate your lines. Fully extended. Perfectly straight.
"Every one of your limbs should feel as though it were six feet long," he finished lowly, his eyes locked with hers. "Try a cartwheel."
She nodded, understanding everything he was saying even though he only seemed to speak in partial thoughts, rather than sharing the whole content aloud. She performed the cartwheel as instructed, extending her legs in the same way he had her arms.
"Better?" he asked, suddenly uncertain.
"Yeah," she told him gently, smiling to reassure him.
"Now try your routine like that," he said, cringing a moment later as he replayed the words in his head. "What I meant to say," he began again, "is you should try your dance routine like that, if you want to."
"Will you watch?" she asked, flicking her music player back to her floor music once again. He nodded as she fitted the ear buds into her ears and took her starting position. As the music played, she focused on his instructions, exaggerating her lines to give them more form and forgetting about the other elements for the time being.
"What was the music?" he asked as she finished, his features marred with an unsettling frown.
"Across the Universe," she answered uncertainly.
"I don't see it," he said, shaking his head.
"Don't see what?"
He sighed, once again struggling to find the words. "It should tell a story," he finally managed. "That song is like a prayer. Jai guru deva," he quoted from the song. "It means 'thanks to the divine teacher' in Sanskrit."
She still gave him confused so he tried a different tactic. "When you're dancing to something you like, you dance to what the song means, not just the beat," he offered, hoping he was making more sense.
"I don't dance," Payson insisted seriously, crossing her arms protectively around her. Sasha realized immediately that she was closing herself off from him, receding as they began to approach a subject she was uncomfortable with. He wondered what it was that she as trying to avoid here, because his own impressions of Payson Keeler did not make her out as the sort of person who would shy away from anything.
"Not even in your bedroom," he wheedled playfully, with a knowing wink. She seemed to settle a little, her arms not quite as tight.
"That doesn't count," she answered. "Nobody can see me then, and trust me, I'm really bad at it. That's why I don't do it public."
"Prove it then," he teased, trying to push her past her own roadblocks.
"What? Right here?" she asked, disbelief written across her face. "I can't do it here. Not with you just standing there watching."
He seemed to consider her point for a moment and then held his hand out towards her. "Alright, hand it over," he commanded, looking deadly serious. "iPod," he explained, tapping the strap holding her device in place.
"What are you doing?" she asked curiously, handing it over despite her questions and reservations.
"I'm looking for something I know," he answered vaguely as he scrolled through her music files. "Tim Minchkin," he grinned approvingly. "Oh, Payson, you've got some awful music on here. Miley Cyrus? How could you?"
"She had some good songs and I've got like unlimited memory space. I don't delete anything," she explained, still waiting for Sasha to explain exactly why he needed something he knew.
"Ah, here's my jam," he grinned as he found what he was looking for, pressing play. He pulled out the headphones and tucked them in the pocket of his basketball shorts, and turned the internal speaker to full volume, singing along as the words of the song began.
"It was a hot summer night and the beach was burning, there was fog crawling over the sand," he sang awfully, strumming along dramatically and making Mick Jagger faces. "When I listen to your heart I hear the whole world turning. I see the shooting stars falling through your trembling hands.
"Payson," he said, offering the device towards her as though it were a microphone as it continued with the verse. She shook her head adamantly, laughing at his uncoordinated, over exaggerated movements. "C'mon, Payson," he near begged as he shook his hips comically.
"I can't," she protested, laughing and shaking her head. "I can't do that."
"You can't be any worse than me," he argued back.
"I don't know the words."
"But I bet you know the chorus," he answered. "Everyone knows the chorus. I'm not letting you out of this, Payson."
"Fine," she relented as he dropped to his knees to serenade her the bridge.
"You hold me so close that my knees grow week but my soul is flying high above the ground," he sang as he held her hand in his own. Payson played the part of his swooning fan girl, holding a hand to her breast as she looked wistfully into the distance. "I'm trying to speak but no matter what I do, I just can't seem to make any sound."
The song held for two heartbeats and then broke into chorus, Payson singing along as promised in a sweet only slightly off-key voice. "And then you took the words right out of my mouth. It must have been when you were kissing me," she sang, her hips swaying timidly at first, but with more surety as she got into the mood, pantomiming the words. She blew Sasha a kiss as he got to his feet, completely entranced by her movements. "You took the words right out of my mouth. And I swear it's true, I was just about to say I love you."
Sasha joined her in the next chorus, her movements becoming more sure as the beat grew stronger and as it wasn't just her dancing by herself. She moved fluidly to the music, her hips dipping and swaying in just the right way and her hands flittering into gestures that went with the words. As the music went into the second verse, she moved closer to him, singing the words where she knew them ("You were licking your lips and your lipstick shining; I was dying just to ask for a taste") and humming along where she didn't, and still moving along to the music with steadily growing confidence. She smiled brightly, making it clear to him that she was enjoying this despite her initial protest. She didn't say a word when the song ended, and he quickly found another familiar song.
She was positively stunning. Sasha didn't think he had ever seen anything more beautiful as the two of them danced like idiots until they ran out of songs they could agree upon. The confidence and happiness she found as they progressed made her shine brighter than any star, and yet that initial self-consciousness was so endearing in its own way.
"You were wrong, Payson," he told her as she packed up her things to leave. She looked at him curiously, awaiting further explanation. "You're an excellent dancer," he assured her warmly, smiling affectionately. "And I hope I get the joy of being your dance partner again sometime," he added with a flirtatious wink.
"Night, Sasha," she said, not quite believing him, but not disagreeing all the same. His eyes lingered upon her as she left; drawn to that same unconscious sway he had been intent upon yesterday.
'Careful, Belov,' he cautioned himself, forcing his eyes to look at anything but the power gymnast in his direct line of vision. 'She's a gymnast,' he added, although he couldn't at the moment remember what so bad about that fact. She was beautiful, determined, disciplined, sweet, and brilliant – all qualities he tended to admire in the fairer sex – and had a body that could bend in ways that others might deem unnatural. She was also only eighteen years old, but that was neither here nor there.
What was perhaps more concerning was that she was Marty Walsh's gymnast. He knew what it would look like and his resentful history with Marty certainly had some warning lights flashing. He knew he should stay away from her. He knew he should just forget about her and focus on his gymnastics, but there was something about her that drew him every time.
Perhaps it was because that in many ways, at least when it came to her gymnastics, she was a lot like him. She was focused upon her goal and wouldn't allow for distractions – impossibly driven, to the point of single-mindedness. She was passionate, and she cared as much about gymnastics as he did, even putting the sport above her own health as he had done many a time. She was completely disciplined and unwilling to settle for anything less than her best, often coming down harder on herself than she would others. He was all these things, and he saw much of himself in the calculated risks she took and her ability to block everything but gymnastics from her mind.
Perhaps it was the contradiction he'd seen before him today. When it came to gymnastics she had all the confidence and sureness in the world, but when he asked her perform a dance, she suddenly became shy and self-conscious and withdrew into her own world. Had he complimented her on her gymnastics, she would have known exactly how to respond, but when he complimented her dancing, she was unsure and unwilling to believe the truth of his words. There was much more to her than met the eye, and he wanted badly to see what lay beyond that.
Or perhaps it really was only skin deep. She was undeniably a very beautiful woman. There were curves to her body he wasn't used to seeing in gymnasts, but which he appreciated all the same. Her features were petite and very pretty, and her hair looked as though it would be heaven to run his fingers through. He couldn't even say what exactly it was about her that made her so beautiful, and yet he knew without a doubt that she was more beautiful than he could find words to describe.
He groaned tiredly, pulling his hair in frustration. He had come down here to try and work Payson Keeler out of his head and had clearly failed miserably. She was all the more rooted in his thoughts now, her picture becoming more three-dimensional now and not simply the cookie cut image of who he thought she was. And as that image took form she became more intriguing, more drawing, and more appealing than ever.
He wanted to know more about her; he wanted to know about her hopes, her wishes, her dreams. About what had started her in gymnastics and how she had found that drive to keep going when everyone else around her was giving up. He wanted to know what made her who she was and he wanted to complete the picture he was beginning to form of her.
He wanted her. He wanted everything about her.
And that thought terrified him.
~ to be continued ~
I wasn't going to post until next week, but the response to the first chapter was so great I wanted to put this chapter up right away. I adore 'goofy-Sasha' in this - so much for him being a sophisticated, older gentleman, right? And so much for my 'clean' chapters. I should have known better.
Notes:
Across the Universe - The Beatles (1969, Lennon & McCartney) see RRSO Symphony for Orchestral version.
You Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth - Meatloaf (1977, Steinman)
Translations:
Jai guru deva: literally "glory to the shining remover of darkness"