Guilty Pleasures Exclusive Excerpt
Nik, Nikolai Bagrov, whatever…was a pretty big fucking deal. He wasn’t just “a power tumbler.” He was considered third best in the world.
The world.
Like, the entirety of Earth.
I didn’t waste time when I got home, rushing to my computer to let Google school me on my lack of knowledge.
And boy, had it. It told me to the tune of sixty YouTube videos and six thousand search results.
Every click of my mouse had me asking one thing over and over again.
Why the hell was he even remotely interested in coaching me?
Coaching anybody, really. He should have been training all the time. Living…well…my life.
The more I watched and read about him, careful to keep to career facts only rather than personal information, the more I started to relate to him. I didn’t want to know about his personal life.
No, that wasn’t true.
I didn’t want to know unless he told me himself. It felt like an invasion of privacy, and more than that, like I might unearth something I wasn’t equipped to handle.
Raised in the life, he’d started tumbling at the ripe age of four and never, ever stopped. A brief foray into Men’s gymnastics proved uninteresting at which point he turned all of his energy into tumbling. Building an early career, competing in as many competitions as possible, and largely dominating all that he entered. He’d made several trips to the World Championships, his last one putting him impressively on the podium for bronze.
But watching him tonight, I couldn’t help but think he was maybe even better than third in the world. That he could achieve even better if he wanted to.
It was different, but not enough to not be the same. I felt like Nik knew where I was coming from in a completely different way than anyone I’d met before.
Which freaked me the hell out. Relating led to liking, and liking led to losing my mind—and a good chance of disappointment.
It was around the ninth full body shiver that I decided something had to be done. Something preemptive and preventative, and it had to happen now.
With two clicks of the mouse, I pulled up a picture of him and proceeded to pick it apart.
Lips—fucking awesome.
Eyes—unreal. So blue, so water-like, they invited you to dive right in.
Smile—to die for.
But his hair was kind of stupid.
No.
I strengthened my resolve.
Not kind of stupid. It was the epitome of stupid. All floppy and long and mop-like in structure. And the whole headband thing was a mockery against men.
Yeah. That was better.
And the motorcycle. That was stupid too!
What was he thinking taking chances getting hurt like that? They were deathtraps.
I mean, it was a little hot.
My fingers pinched close to one another in example, and one eye narrowed as I talked to myself.
A skosh.
Admitting to a skosh was totally acceptable, I reasoned.
My head tilted thoughtfully to the side, and the shape of my lips pursed into a heart.
His hair really wasn’t that bad.
Immediate realization of my backpedaling thoughts made my head snap back to straight.
Shit.
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Blurb:
Callie
Blood, sweat, hard work, and a disconcerting lack of tears—my entire life—was meant to culminate in a flourish of glory and significance.
I’d thought I’d always known exactly what that meant.
But I’d had the timing wrong by about three minutes.
I knew now.
This moment wasn’t everything. The one person I found myself wanting more than anything during it was.
Nik
One preconceived notion can haunt you for the entirety of your life.
I thought I owed it to myself and to everyone who’d ever backed me to do what was expected. What was right. What I was supposed to do.
But nothing is forbidden in love. Not circumstances or propriety or the denial of the object of said affection.
I knew now.
This was it.
If I wanted it, I had to take it.
This gymnastics love story is more than grips, rips, and battered hands.
For Calia Nickleson and Nikolai Bagrov, it was everything.
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Thanks for sharing