Gymnast Romance

Chapter 2

It was our last period and I had already brushed past the new guy in our year during lunch. He was slim and muscular, an athletic build, with deep brown hair and tanned, umber skin. I hadn't caught his name though as he had Amy falling all over him in a failed attempt at flirting. It was only now that when he arrived into my art class did I learn his name was Eoin. Amy was not artistic and had chosen the subject woodwork instead of art, my friend Dara, who I usually sat beside was absent from school, so I offered Eoin his seat. Our art teacher hadn't even noticed the presence of a new student in her class. She was old and nearing retirement. She cares little about the fate of the class after she has left the school, and chooses only to focus on the students who have talent at art, meaning me and about five others in our class of thirty. She was an excellent teacher and artist though, just tired of lazy students thinking art will be an easy ride through school. 

We were to continue our projects on Henri Matisse and Fauvism, so I was left with the task of bringing Eoin up to date with our class work. He was gorgeous. While talking I was absorbed in his swirling brown eyes, glittered with flashes of gold and copper. His voice was warm and suave, and he was so easy to talk to. His sun-kissed skin glimmered under the classroom lighting. My stomach fluttered as he spoke. I'm sure I was blushing uncontrollably as I could feel was blood rushing to my cheeks, ruining my attempt at not looking obviously lustful for this guy I had just met. He began to draw, taking visual notes of what our teacher was babbling about. I watched his flawless hand trace around the page, creating lines which eventually became pictures. He was talented and I was intrigued. 

The bell rang out with a raucous racket. I was only disappointed by the fact that I would be leaving the company of this handsome boy. I was debating in my head whether or not he was being flirty or if I was being delusional.  I was inexperienced in the area of boys. I had only come out to my parents and friends as gay over the last couple of months and hadn't met any other openly gay people yet. Whether Eoin was gay or not I did not know. I didn't even know why he had moved here.

I walked home with my brother, Daniel, conversing about little things that made us laugh during the day. My eyes observed birds nestled under chestnut trees as we passed a little newsagent painted coral pink and sea green on the road home from school. The walk takes about fifteen minutes alone and twenty when wrapped up in dramatic conversation about school life. In the back of my mind I couldn't help but fantasise about Eoin. He certainly had left a strong impression on me.

I arrived home in need of food. It was always a hurry to get to gymnastics by five, only getting home by about twenty past four. I ran upstairs, my black socks with striped red on the toes were sliding on the warm golden carpet in the hall. I dashed into my bedroom and grabbed at my tracksuit and black leo for in the gym. I slipped into them, doused myself in deodorant and then ate before leaving. Not without a few cups of rich, dark coffee. I loved the bitter aroma of coffee, and I needed it too. Gymnastics and school take a large toll on my rapidly depleting energy levels. I wouldn't make it an hour through training without collapsing into a deep sleep on one of the soft mats without caffeine in my bloodstream. 

Traffic was a nightmare to drive through. I was praying not to get extra conditioning for being late. I had to double take as I walked in through the glass door of the stuffy gym. Was I really hallucinating about Eoin? Had my crush developed into an obsession already? Eoin was standing with his back to me watching the younger girls finishing their three till five o'clock rhythmic session. His dark brown hair glinted a delicious chocolate colour under the bright ceiling lights. I dumped my gear in the chalk coated changing room, which was really just an office where we ate and kept our bags. It was cluttered, I leaped over a water bottle which had spilt on the ground, then waltzed over to stand beside Eoin.

"Hi," I exclaimed "You never mentioned you were a gymnast!" "Neither did you" he responded, happy to see a familiar face. "Well, it didn't really fit the topic of art  history I guess," I retorted jokingly. "Is this your first time in this gym?", I asked him wondering why he had moved school and gym. "Eh... Yeah It is," He responded warmly, "Don't be nervous here," I said to him putting my hand on this strong shoulder, "I figure you've  done gymnastics before, seeing as this is the junior squad," I questioned him. "Yeah," he laughed "Obviously, I used to go to a club just outside Dublin." "Why did you move?" "My mom's work... She's a chemist, she formulates medicines and stuff and the lab she used to work in transferred her here." "Makes sense," I replied tentatively as we crossed the square floor to join the warm up. We continued our conversation as we did laps of the gymnasium, running over the vault, doing chin-ups on the bars, leaping over beams, being careful to talk quietly not to get given push ups for talking. 

"Where did you move to?" I quizzed him, hoping to find out more about this boy. "We moved in to Hillview Park, you know that estate?" he answered, "It's near the school..." "Yeah I know it, It's about a ten minute walk from mine," I said, cheerfully, "I live in Oak Glades" "I'm not actually sure where that is," he replied, having only moved into the town recently. "I'll have to show you sometime" I said, smiling at Eoin.

"Conor! Where's Dara today?" Our coach Stephen asked, breaking up our conversation. "I don't actually know... He wasn't at school today, maybe he's sick..." I muttered. We began stretching, feeling each and every stiff muscle begging us to stop, stretching further and for longer until our bodies loosened out. After the stretch and we were all feeling limber, Rachel another coach introduced Eoin to the class. An awkward welcoming was made and the  class continued. The girls were separated from our group as they headed to beam and floor. We trampled across sponge mats to the rings. The senior squad, who were nearing adulthood, some of them already eighteen years old, had left us to work on pommel. 

The gym was noisy, flooded with the sounds of coaches barking orders, springboards exploding as they threw gymnasts through the air, mats slapping the ground as people landed face first on top of them, bodies slamming against the floor. There was a busy, energetic air to the building.