Free The Summer Games: Out of Bounds by R.S. Grey

midnight.”
    I shook my head and leaned forward. “While you’re staying in my house, you’ll follow my rules. No going out. No partying.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Anything else, Coach?”
    There it was again, the fire . I could never decide if I wanted to fan the flame or stamp it out. Instead, I brushed past her. “Go change.”
    She laughed under her breath. “Right away sir .”

Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    Brie
     
     
     
    “Well that was a disaster,” I said, reclining on the couch. I’d showered and put on my comfiest pair of pajamas. Practice had kicked my ass and I knew I’d be paying the price tomorrow. Or in an hour.
    “I think Erik liked your tail a little too much,” Molly said, handing me an extra ice pack and sliding down to sit at my side.
    I dropped the pack onto my shoulder and closed my eyes, ignoring her statement.
    “Agreed,” Lexi said, dropping onto the couch on the other side of me.
    My first instinct was to argue with them, but I’d learned it wasn’t worth the effort. As far as I could tell, Erik was the same as he’d been the day before: distant and chilly. During practice, I’d finish a routine and glance over at him. I’d try to glean a sliver of emotion from his face, but he always wore the same unreadable expression. It wasn’t filled with kindness or hatred; no, the chill in his piercing blue eyes was somewhere in between, too confusing to pick apart. He’d blink, shake his head, and spout out a random recommendation. “Your feet were apart in that final pass…You nearly went out of bounds there at the end…Keep your legs straighter in the first double.”
    I knew my routines weren’t perfect, but coaches usually mentioned at least one good thing I’d done before harping on everything I needed to fix. After thirteen years of gymnastics, I understood that I hungered for other people’s approval. I loved impressing my coaches. I blossomed under their praise, and after one day of working with Erik, I knew I’d have to adjust my standards. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat criticism. There’d be no thumbs up or smiles during practice, just cold, critical indifference.
    I shivered at the thought.
    “Ugh, I wish this stupid house had an oven,” I said, peeking my eyes open just to confirm one hadn’t magically appeared in the kitchen while we were away. “I really want to bake something.”
    Molly laughed. “What is it with you and baking?”
    I smiled and shrugged. “It’s my favorite thing to do. When I was younger, sometimes my mom couldn’t pick me up from practice right away because she was stuck at work. At first I’d wander over to wait at a bookstore near the gym. There was a bakery next door, and when I got bored or hungry I would inevitably end up drooling over the pastries in the display case.”
    Molly smiled. “Sounds like my kind of place.”
    I nodded. “It was heaven. Anyway, the owner took pity on me. In the beginning, she’d slide me the day-old baked goods, and then once it became clear I wasn’t going away, she let me go behind the counter and help her.”
    “Is that where you learned to bake?” Lexi asked.
    I smiled. “She taught me everything I know.”
    “So that’s what you would be doing if you weren’t competing in the Olympics?” Molly asked, laughing. “Baking?”
    I stared up at the ceiling and closed my eyes, picturing myself behind the counter of the bakery. It was almost purpose-built for inducing nostalgia; the haze of flour hanging in the air might as well have been pixie dust, enchanting me with the everlasting aroma of fresh baked goodness. The radiant warmth from the enormous ovens enveloped my tired muscles, soothing them better than any heating pad could. After the technical demands of the gym, I reveled in the simplicity of following tried and true recipes.
    “I guess,” I answered honestly. “I haven’t thought about it, really. It’d be fun—”
    “GUYS!” Rosie shouted.
    She was walking into the living