Free Balance (Off Balance Book 1) by Lucia Franco Page A

his office, he waited for me to walk in then shut the door. He took a seat behind his desk and I sat in front. I tightened my ponytail and braced myself.
    Looking me directly in the eyes, he got right to the point. “Today was a test, an evaluation to see where you currently are.” He sighed tiredly. “I am going to be blunt. You do not come close to my standards, Adrianna, and that worries me. You are not ready for the senior team. Not even close. Definitely nowhere near prepared to test this season. You are setting yourself up for failure if you do.”
    My mouth dropped open and tears formed in the back of my eyes. I would not cry, I wouldn’t allow it. Shit, I’d been schooled not to cry. But fuck, that hurt.
    Being told you’re not good enough in gymnastics was like being kicked while you’re down. It was heartbreakingly devastating. Aside from sustaining an injury that forces you to rest, it’s probably the worst thing you could possibly hear. You’re already hard on yourself as it is trying to be the best. You give your all, you silently deal with the pain and aches, the gnawing hunger, the exhaustion, when you know there will always be someone who will come along that is better than you. It’s a double-edged sword. And this shit runs through your head on replay.
    “I spoke with Madeline, the other elite coach who evaluated you, and she agreed with me, you need work. You have a lot of bad habits we need to break, which is going to be a tedious task. Little details matter in this sport. Had I evaluated you before you came, without a doubt, I would have turned you away from the elite program. But your father made a generous donation to have our café funded, which allows you to be here.” He folded his hands in front of him, looking jaded. “So here you are.”
    “I’m not even a level ten in your eyes, am I?”
    He shook his head, his lips a thin flat line. No Coach Kissable here.
    “My standards are high, but that is what wins. Doing safe, mediocre gymnastics is not going to get you on the podium. I think you will agree with me. You were scared today and held back. That concerns me.”
    I tried hard not to cry, but I couldn’t stop the tears from resting on my eyelids. I looked up at the ceiling, willing them to disappear so they wouldn’t fall down my cheeks. I was mad at myself for letting my emotions get to me. I wanted to appear strong, but this was equally as frustrating as it was hurtful. The clawing inside my gut to be better was being tackled by a larger beast.
    “The worst part is,” he continued, “I agreed to train you. Once you test and you do qualify, you must train at the senior level because of your age. You are too old for any other level.”
    Konstantin Kournakova was a cold man. I wondered if he had kids and prayed if he didn’t, he was sterile so it wouldn’t be possible. I knew he wasn’t going to go easy on me, but Jesus Christ. His words were as upsetting as a career ending injury.
    “Seeing how it is March and you arrived in the middle of elite season, did you plan on competing the rest of the regular meet season as practice and then test next season?”
    “Since we have until June, I thought I could test elite since a lot of the skills are the same.”
    His eyes were empathetic. “I do not think that is a wise decision. You are just not ready.”
    The last thing my heart wanted was to sit a season out, but if it furthered my career then so be it. I lowered my voice and said, “I’d rather hold off on competing and use this time as practice so I could be prepared next season to test.”
    Kova sat back in his leather chair. His head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed to thin slits. He cupped his jaw and ran a hand over his mouth. “Do you want this, Adrianna? Really want this deep down? Because it is going to take many more hours of gym time for you to be where I need you. I am talking private lessons after practice and possibly longer hours. Pushing your body