Chapter 7:
The phone in Payson's hotel room was ringing off the hook. She ran from the bathroom, her hair still sopping wet from her shower and picked it up.
"Yes?" she asked quickly.
Though she wouldn't admit it, Payson's eagerness was stemming from the fact that Sasha had vaguely expressed interest in seeing her that night. She had no idea when, where, or how – but since when did men give details, anyway?
"Ms. Keeler, this is the front desk."
"Oh." Her heart sank a bit. "What is this about?"
"Mr. Belov didn't know your room number, so he asked us to contact you. Will you be available for dinner in twenty minutes? He can meet you in the lobby."
"Ah…" Payson glanced over at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a wet, tangled mess and her eyeliner from the day was dripping down and staining her cheeks. She cringed.
"Sure…" She finally said, though it came out more like a question than a statement. "Tell him that should be fine."
Payson hung up and sprung into action. Knowing that she wouldn't have enough time to dry her hair, she took a clip from her make-up back and twisted it up and out of her face. Eighteen minutes later she was half running, half walking out the door as she continued to slip her black flats on clumsily. Once in the elevator she took a deep breath, using her reflection in the silver, glassy doors to make sure everything was in order.
Suddenly, they opened to the brightly lit lobby. Sasha was there – hands in his pockets casually, wearing a crisp, clean white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He had a boyish grin on his face. Payson would've never described her old coach as "boyish" until this week. Perhaps it was about her new perception that came with age. As a sixteen-year-old obsessed with gymnastics, she would've never taken the time to put two and two together and realize that Sasha's mannerisms – from his crooked smile to his playful stare-downs – screamed boyish. Funny how time can alter vision.
"Hey." She said, smiling.
"Hey yourself." He said. "Thanks for coming down last minute."
"Oh… it was no problem!" she lied.
"I'm happy to see you wearing your color."
Payson furrowed her brow and looked down. She was wearing a v-neck deep purple dress and a black cardigan. Like most of the nicer pieces in her wardrobe, these had been Kim Keeler purchases. According to her mother, Payson could not be trusted to shop for herself.
"Thank you." she said, smoothing out her skirt self consciously. "You know, since I can't wear purple leos anymore, I figured I have to make up for it somehow."
He laughed. "At least this looks more comfortable than a leotard."
"Oh you have no idea…"
That night Sasha took her to a nice Italian place that Ben Pierce had recommended to him. There were candles on the tables, fresh flowers, and string lights on the walls that twinkled and reflected off the neat rows of sparkling glassware. Payson smirked when she saw the ambiance before her. Ironically, she was only fifteen minutes into her evening with Sasha Belov and this was already the nicest date she'd ever been on….and it wasn't even a date.
Dinner was delicious. Everything from the bread to the main course made Payson's mouth water. Their enthusiastic waitress kept bringing over complimentary glasses of wine. Payson suspected that she knew who she was.
At one point, Payson noticed Sasha staring at her. He had folded his hands together, his eyes dancing over her with amusement.
"What?" Payson asked at his peculiar expression. "Do I have something between my teeth?"
He laughed. "No, nothing like that."
"Then what?"
"You just look so grown-up tonight. It's strange."
"Strange?"
"Interesting…" he corrected.
"Interesting?" Payson echoed, not knowing what to make of these adjectives.
Sasha sighed. "You know what I mean…you're different. You're older."
"I'm twenty-two." she specified. Payson had never really given her age much thought because she's generally acted the same since birth. Even her mother will tell complete strangers who her oldest daughter came out a thirty-year-old woman.
"Yeah, of course..." Sasha said, averting his eyes and shaking his head. "You're still pretty young."
She eyed him skeptically, trying to read the meaning in his words. Unfortunately, that was nearly impossible to do with Sasha Belov. She gave up quickly.
"So…today was eventful." she continued, trying to change the subject.
"That's one way to put it."
"It sort of reminded me of old times."
Sasha laughed "You mean when I made your life hell?"
"Exactly."
They locked eyes and chuckled together. Payson felt a light blush coming up on her cheeks. Sasha reached over the table with his fork and took a piece of her chicken. She smacked his hand away playfully, but eventually let him claim his prize. Sasha triumphantly took the mouthful and chewed with satisfaction.
I wonder if this is what flirting is…Payson thought stupidly as she sat across this man with sparkling blue eyes. Such a crazy question would only surface in the mind of Payson Keeler – the girl who had spent more time in the gym than in the mall as a teenager. Her versions of boy-girl interactions were limited to stolen moments by water coolers. She was smart enough to realize that this wasn't normal.
Sasha finished his dinner and pushed his plate it towards the center of the table. He leaned towards Payson and admitted something to her. "I realized something today after we got back from the studio."
"What?"
"You never got your turn with the 'resentment game.' You never told the group what was on your mind." Sasha said, staring her down with a searching intensity.
Payson hadn't even realized this, but he was right. She had reacted to Kaylie's complaints quite vocally, but she never actually spoke up for herself.
"So what?" she asked dismissively.
"Do you have any resentments or regrets, Payson Keeler?"
Payson cringed inwardly at his question and stared down at her fingers. There was no chance in hell she was going to give him a straight answer to that – not when they were alone and not when she had her wits about her. She wouldn't be able to do it without mentioning the one thing they'd miraculously managed to avoid this entire week…the one subject she was both dying and dreading to bring up…the large elephant in the room that was suffocating her…
The Kiss.
"Well?" Sasha asked again, clearly not satisfied with her reflective silence. "I'm waiting Payson."
Instead of answering, she smiled coyly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Sasha shook his head and sat up straight again. "You're a just mystery, aren't you?"
"Yes – and I prefer it that way."
"Fine, fine…"
"Is that why you wanted to get together tonight?" she asked curiously. "Were you just dying to know what was on my piece of paper?"
Sasha paused and thought. "Actually…I really just wanted to hang out."
She smirked. "Really?"
"Yeah." He said, shrugging. "Since when does there have to be a purpose for us to spend time together?"
Payson blinked. Since always, she wanted to say. That's the way it's always been. They were close, yes, but his presence in her life had always been fueled by practical outcomes. He took her to the ballet to teach her about grace. He visited her home to convince her to come back to the Rock. He stayed late with her to perfect her new floor routine. Each minute they'd spent together in their entire lives had a direct route back to gymnastics and their natural gymnast-coach relationship. Almost without noticing it, Sasha had just dismissed that completely in one sentence. Payson couldn't decide whether it was exciting or unsettling.
Who are we? she wanted to ask. She wanted to scream the question at the top of her lungs, but she didn't. She simply forked her tiramisu and filled her mouth before she could say anything stupid.
"I've brought you two dessert wine – on the house!" their waitress appeared out of nowhere with a complimentary blackberry wine. Payson's eyes widened as the server filled their glasses. This was not going to help with her confusion…
"It isn't sparking cider in champagne flutes, but it'll do – right Payson?" Sasha said, winking at her.
Payson gulped her wine, feeling flushed from the fond memory he'd just referenced. Then again, it might've been the alcohol…
Payson Keeler had never been truly intoxicated before this night. The only time she'd come close was after the Olympics when she, Austin, and Nicky Russo had stayed up drinking champagne together on the roof of their hotel in London. All three had won all-around medals and formed a spontaneous, celebratory "champions club" (Austin had come up with the name after his fourth drink). Payson got tipsy then, but remembered the entire evening with perfect clarity.
Tonight was different…very different.
All the colors around her were brighter, her senses heightened somehow. The fuzziness of her vision made everything glow – almost beautifully. She was rather enjoying it. True, her head was spinning and she had to clutch Sasha's arm for support, but generally she was having fun.
"That waitress kept giving us wine!" Sasha cried, trying his best to lead Payson through the revolving door of their hotel. The fact that he couldn't walk in a straight line or properly estimate depth wasn't helping. He accidently smashed both of their bodies into one turning wedge, forcing Payson's body up against his own.
She wasn't complaining.
"Tonight was great, wasn't it?" Payson asked in a higher pitched voice than usual. "I wore a dress…you had rolled up sleeves…I got to eat pasta…and there was no gymnastics."
She knew she was making no sense, but that didn't stop her from talking. Usually Payson was a very calculated speaker. It seems the alcohol had turned off her usual filter.
"Well, in my personal experience those are all the ingredients needed for an amazing evening on the town." Sasha countered playfully.
Is it just me, or does his British accent get stronger when he's drunk? Payson wondered to herself dreamily.
The motley pair tripped into the elevator laughing, still connected by their linked hands. It reached Payson's floor first. She let go of him, stood on tip-toe, and kissed him on the cheek.
"Bye!" she cried, jumping out the doors before they closed on her.
Sasha's strong arm blocked them and he followed her out.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I have to make sure you get to your room alright!" he said with a pompous sort-of chivalry that highly amused her.
Payson rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand again, this time dragging him down the hallway to her door. She got out her purse and started fumbling for her key card. She tried several times to open her suite, but was having no luck.
"Man…" she cried in frustration. "I can never get these."
Sasha chuckled. "I think that's a library card, Payson."
He grabbed it from her hand and examined the rectangle in question. "Boulder Public Library…" he read aloud with approval. He turned it over and bust out laughing, pointing to the crooked signature on the back.
"I was six!" she said defensively. "No one can write in straight lines when they are six!"
"You're adorable…" Sasha said through his laughter.
Eventually, Payson got the door open. Almost absentmindedly, Sasha followed her in and – also absentmindedly – Payson let him without thinking twice about it. Saying goodbye was on neither person's mind.
