Payson's morning routine had been the same for months now. Her eyes would snap open in response to her cell phone alarm at half past four in the morning. Fifteen minutes later she was showered, dressed and on her way to the Rock to begin training by five. Although for the last two weeks, since Christmas, the first half hour of training had consisted solely of the one physical activity that could get her heart rate up in mere seconds: kissing Sasha Beloff.

This morning was no different as she found herself straddling his waist, placing soft open mouthed kisses across his chest, while he lounged shirtless on the small bed in his trailer. His hands rested on her hips, squeezing whenever she would find a particularly sensitive spot. Finally, it seemed he had enough of her slow torture and without breaking contact, he skillfully flipped them over, so she lay on her back, completely at his mercy. He grinned wickedly, leaning down to place a small kiss on her lips, before trailing his mouth down over her chin, pausing at her neck, which he'd discovered was extremely sensitive and then lower, nudging the pendant he bought her for Christmas out of the way with his nose. Her hand came up from where it had been tracing senseless patterns across the smooth skin of his back to touch the pendant briefly and then brush against his whisker roughened cheek.

"Say it," she murmured as he continued his torturously slow exploration. "Please," she begged through a moan, as his mouth lingered against the top of her breast that spilled out of her tank top.

He retraced his path back towards her lips and hovered there for a moment, their lips barely brushing, "Inima mea este a ta*," he said huskily, before his mouth crashed down upon hers, forgetting their leisurely pace and creating a blazing inferno that completely consumed them each and every morning. It was all they could do to get through the day; the memories of their moments together had to sustain them, as they did their best to completely shut down the instinctive need to just be together at all times.

This morning though, Payson need more than the physical act, she needed the words, "Say it again, Sasha," she asked him, as they came up for air.

He obliged her as he always did, "Inima mea esta a ta," he said, enunciating every syllable so she wouldn't be able to mistake his meaning.

It was something she had discovered the night she returned home from the Christmas party. She'd taken off the beautiful charm he'd bought for her of Aphrodite and Ares, the two Olympians with a forbidden love, though if anyone had ever asked, the charm represented the marrying of her gymnastics styles, beauty and brawn; artistry and power. She'd been about to put the charm away in her jewelry box when she realized the back wasn't completely smooth. She'd turned it over and saw that there was an inscription on the back. Holding it up to the light, she recognized quickly that it was in a language she didn't understand. She'd quickly opened up her laptop and found an online translator. It had to be Romanian, so she typed it in and asked for an English translation. What she saw made her breath catch: my heart is yours.

It was a simple declaration, but one she hadn't expected. She typed rapidly into the translator then, eternally grateful that it had a pronunciation button that helped her learn how to say what she wanted to say. The next day, she showed up at his trailer door at half past four in the morning. He'd blearily answered in only his pajama pants and the most attractive case of bed head she'd ever seen and said, "Şi a mea este a ta.*"

That morning was the closest they had ever come to giving into their most basic of instincts, to be together in every way. They stopped just before they had gone too far and they'd been very careful ever since, but the words had been spoken and what had begun as a simple kiss months before was now set in stone.

Pulling herself out of her memories, she saw the clock on his wall read 5:25 a.m. "We have to get up," she said, weaving her fingers through his blond hair, as he focused his attention to the sensitive patch of skin just behind her ear. "Oh, God," she moaned, but then continued, "we really do have to get up."

He groaned, burying his face in her neck, planting a small kiss there and then one on her shoulder, before lifting himself off of her and helping her up. He grabbed his shirt from where it was hanging precariously off one of his open kitchen cabinets. I tossed that pretty far this time, she mused as she watched him pull it over his head. She pulled on her boots as he rummaged through the cabinets finding his Shredded Wheat and her Honey Nut Cheerios. She grabbed two bowls, two spoons and the half gallon of milk from his fridge.

They stepped outside, a space heater pumping hot air in their direction to keep them warm in the crisp January morning air. He bent over and retrieved his daily copy of the New York Times, one of the many quirks that she loved about him. Who gets the New York Times delivered to them every morning in Boulder, Colorado? Only Sasha Beloff. He passed her the Science Times, while he poured over the Arts section. She filled both their bowls and he added the milk.

After a bite of her Cheerios she sat back and sighed, "You do realize something don't you?" she asked.

"What's that?" he asked, through a mouthful of cereal, flipping his paper down to look at her.

"We've turned into an old married couple," she said, barely able to keep the grin off her face.

He studied her, trying to measure her seriousness, "How do you figure?"

"Well, we don't have sex, we bicker about everything, we make each other breakfast out of sheer instinct, you have no problem talking with your mouth full in front of me…" she trailed off, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up from her throat.

He chuckled and muttered, "Cheeky brat, eat your bloody Cheerios."

She waggled her eyebrows at him, "I love it when you get all cranky and British in the morning."

Sasha laughed and took another bite of his Shredded Wheat. He loved this side of her, the funny, playful, flirty side that he was sure no one else even knew existed. It was an interesting dichotomy, watching her transform every morning from this carefree young woman to the intense, driven World Champion she became in the gym. Be honest, Beloff, it turns you on that she's a soft as butter in your hands, but turns hard as stone as soon as she steps in the gym.

He shook his head, marveling at how amazing she was when he saw a car he thought he recognized pulling into the parking lot. He squinted, not having put his contacts in yet, but then realized the person approaching was unmistakable: Nicky Russo, from Denver Elite, the Men's silver medalist in the All Around at Nationals and the World Championships. What the hell is he doing here?

Sasha looked at Payson and saw she'd stopped mid-chew. "Don't choke on your cereal, love," he muttered and stood to greet Nicky.

"Sasha," he said, extending his hand and shaking his firmly. "Hey Payson," he added, looking shocked to see her.

"Hi Nicky," she said, going back to her paper quickly.

Sasha furrowed his brow at her quick dismissal, but looked at Nicky, "What can I do for you?" he asked, thinking he already knew the answer. Kid was stupid to leave in the first place, now he comes crawling back when he realizes that he left the better club.

"I think you know why I'm here, Sasha," Nicky said, shifting his feet uncomfortably. "I never should have gone to Denver. It was a stupid decision and one I made without really thinking things through. I'd like to come back, if you'll allow it."

Sasha smirked, "We're not exactly in the habit of turning away the best gymnasts in the world from training with us. Come on inside the gym; I'll get you some paperwork to fill out and we'll get the ball rolling," he said, patting Nicky on the back and moving towards the Rock.

"Don't worry, I'll clean up, you just go ahead," Payson called from the table, but he could hear the laughter in her voice.

Nicky hesitated, "Should we?" he asked.

Sasha bit his lip and shook his head, "No, just no," he said, steering the younger man across the parking lot.

Nicky looked very confused as they walked into the Rock together, "Does Payson eat breakfast here a lot?" he asked.

"Yeah, she gets up early and no one in her house is awake yet, so we have breakfast together," Sasha shrugged, reciting the well rehearsed answer they'd developed in case anyone stumbled upon them. "Beats eating alone."

Nicky nodded in agreement, "It's amazing how far she's come in so short a time. I couldn't believe what I was seeing in Rotterdam."

"Everyone was pretty amazed," Sasha agreed as they stepped into his office and he motioned for Nicky to sit down.

Nicky smirked, "Except you," he said. "Really, Sasha, that's why I want to come back and I'm not just blowing smoke to inflate your ego. If I want to be the best, I need to train everyday with the best. Payson, Austin, you, you're the best. Simple as that."

Sasha nodded, "Good. Did you let Marty know?"

"Yesterday," Nicky confirmed.

"Okay, well I'll have him send all your paperwork over here, but you can start training today if you like. Our insurance covers immediate transfers." Ha, Marty gloated for two weeks in text messages that Nicky Russo had defected to Denver, time for a little payback, Beloff.

Nicky rubbed his hands together in anticipation, "Excellent," he said. "I can't wait to get started."

"I can't believe Nicky Russo showed his face here again," Lauren said, frowning as the Rock's four elite women stretched at the beam. "After what he did to you, Payson, I think we should shun him."

Payson stared at Lauren in disbelief, "He didn't do anything to me, Lauren and this is a gym, not an Amish church, we don't shun people."

"Except Kelly Parker," Emily piped up from the corner of the beam where she was stretching her calves.

"Except Kelly Parker," Kaylie agreed and wrinkled her nose at the thought of their rival, who from all reports had recovered from the ankle injury that kept her out of the World Championships and was back training again.

Payson looked up and for the second time in just a few hours couldn't believe what she was seeing. Ellen Beals, sporting yet another attractive Adidas track suit had entered the gym and was walking up the steps towards the gym office. She frowned and without hesitating, she started towards the office as well. "Are you coming?" she called over her shoulder to her friends, who quickly followed. "Austin? Nicky?" she said as she passed the parallel bars, where they were both working in. Both young men shrugged and followed the girls up the stairs and into the office.

"Excuse me," Beals said, when they all barged in, "Coach Beloff and I were having a private conversation. Nicky? What are you doing here?"

"I'm back training at the Rock," he answered shortly.

Looking at Payson before he began, Austin took it from there, "You're a National Committee member, Sasha coaches six members of the US National Gymnastics team. If you need to talk to him, then you need to talk to us as well," he said, smirking at Beals.

Beals seemed inclined to indulge them, "Fine, as I was just saying to Coach Beloff, the Olympic test event a week from now has been expanded. The Federation of International Gymnastics was quite frankly embarrassed by what happened in Rotterdam and even more annoyed that they've been unable to prove any wrong doing thus far, so they've teamed with the IOC to expand the event and they want us to send our best gymnasts. We at the National Committee have no problem doing so and therefore it's been decided that all national team members and their coaches will be going to London one week from today to compete." The words seemed to give Beals physical pain, but there was obviously nothing she could do to stop it. Sasha Beloff and his gymnasts were the biggest thing in American gymnastics right now, coming off their amazing performance at Worlds, Payson Keeler's newfound mainstream popularity and their incredibly successful Sports Illustrated article, despite Beals having made sure that the magazine's most irritable reporter had been sent to do the job.

Payson frowned at her, "That's awfully short notice. What do you think, Sasha?" she asked her coach, who'd been smiling at the ballsy gymnasts he trained.

He cleared his throat, "We'll do it," he said and nodded to Beals, "Is that all?" he asked. She nodded, "Well then I'll ask you to show yourself out, my gym is for coaches and athletes only during these hours." You'll probably regret that eventually, Beloff, but it's nice getting one up on her every once in a while.

Beals made a noise of protest in her throat, but realized quickly that she really didn't have a choice. "I'll see you in London then," she said and quickly excused herself.

The air seemed to return to the office and they all let out a sigh of relief. Sasha cleared his throat, "While I appreciate this fine show of solidarity, apparently we have an international meet to train for, so," he trailed off, but when no one moved, he glared at them, "get going." They all nearly jumped out of their skin and raced out the door, "Payson," he called before she could leave.

She turned to him, "Yes, Sasha?" she asked, in a perfectly obedient tone, but a slightly ironic expression on her face.

"Thanks," he said with a wink.

She smiled at him, "Anytime."

Translations:

Inima mea este a ta: My heart is yours.

Şi a mea este a ta: And mine is yours.