Her Lover Her Coach

Note: This is a follow-up to "Golden Girl" posted 7/5/16 in the Romance section. It helps to read that story first but not vital. No graphic sex here but plenty of emotion, the essence of romance after all.

*****

The guilt came soon enough. Lexie knew on a rational level that she wasn't responsible for Ben Vogel's suicide. Yet because he blew his brains out only minutes after she refused to get into his truck, she couldn't help but feel guilty. Refusing to let Ben drive her back to Maryland from Philadelphia was rejection enough. However, what might have sent Ben over the edge was asking Dan Kramer, the man who had just defeated Ben at the Junior National Weightlifting Championships, to drive her back. Friends and family tried to help, told her it wasn't her fault, reminded her that Ben had had serious image and insecurity issues. Lexie knew that better than most having suffered through her role as lightening rod for Ben's explosive temper. For months, she had been planning to break up with him. In fact, had told him they were through right in front of the Philadelphia Expo Center, with Dan standing protectively by her side. It was then that Ben ran to his truck and...

She never did see his body. Still, she pictured what he must have looked like, his head bleeding from the gunshot wound, his face contorted, suffering and angry. She did attend his funeral, mostly to pay her respects to his grieving parents. "Life goes on," Rick Hambrick, one of Ben's lifting partners told her at the funeral and one of the few people in whom Lexie had confided. "Keep busy," he advised her. "Concentrate on your lifting and school. Give it time."

Now it was April, a month after Ben's death. Somehow, she managed to stay afloat at Towson University, earning decent grades while also training for the World University Championships. The Golden Girl, as the lifting cognoscente called her, in addition to being a natural when it came to hoisting iron, was a disciplined young woman. Her social life? It had been non-existent since the tragedy. She hardly lacked for potential suitors. Guys she knew had asked her out; she turned them down. She sensed their condolences were thinly disguised efforts to hook up, and she wasn't in the mood. Dan Kramer was one of the few guys she felt comfortable talking to. He called just to see how she was doing. He didn't ask her out, didn't bombard her with shallow platitudes like some of the others. Mostly, he listened, never giving unsolicited advice. She liked him. More than liked him, she thought he was hot, had thought that when he had first approached her the day before he and Ben battled it out for the gold. She felt somewhat guilty about that, too.

But life goes on, as Rick Hambrick said, and before May was out, she found herself face to face with Dan, nursing a Yuengling in a South Baltimore bar/restaurant per her invite. "This won't be a "date date" as she put it during their last phone contact. "I'd just like to see you. I could use the company."

So here she sat, talking to the man who she didn't even know existed until he approached her after her win at the Junior Nationals. He was a fan, an admirer, he had said, little knowing then that within twenty-four hours the feeling would be mutual.

"Nothing like a cold one after a hard workout," Lexie said. A little over an hour ago, she was dressed in spandex and lifting shoes, training hard for the big contest. Now she wore jeans and a green halter top, her long, dirty-blond hair set the way she sometimes wore it on the lifting platform, brushed back in front and braided on the sides.

"I'll drink to that," Dan said, nodding and taking a sip. A competitive Olympic lifter himself, he was no stranger to hard workouts. He hadn't seen her since he drove her home on that awful day in Philadelphia. Even though he was a few years older, out of college and working, he was still in awe of her, her stunning looks and lifting prowess. She had warned him not to put her on a pedestal, something Dan did as well as her deceased ex, the latter with tragic results. Dan, despite his best efforts not to, still couldn't help himself.

He rocked back slightly in his seat. "So how's it going?"

"Better, now that I'm with you." She took a sip from her glass mug. "You have a soothing effect on me."

Dan smiled. "Glad I could help." He knew he wouldn't be talking to the "golden girl" if not for Ben's suicide. His loss, my gain was a terrible way to think. Nevertheless, it rushed through his mind like a rude wind gust.

Lexie knew she wasn't emotionally ready to get involved with another man just yet. Still, she had to admit that Dan was a good prospect. Physically, he had the right stuff, a five-foot-ten, ninety-four kilo hunk who had suddenly gained national notice since upsetting Ben Vogel. "You've helped me a great deal. By the way, you look better without the part," she added, referring to Ben's altered hair style.

"Think so?"

"Yes, and those wire rims you're wearing are a nice touch, makes you look like—I don't know—like an intellectual with muscles."

"And you look like a..." He caught himself from saying goddess. "Like you always do, beautiful and strong." He paused. "Am I allowed to say that? I mean, I wouldn't want you to think I'm hitting on you."

Lexie knew that Dan found her hot, if for no other reason than because he was just one guy of many who did. Still, it was nice to hear. She chuckled. "Dan, you can say anything you'd like to me. Compliments are always welcome. But criticism is also fair game, especially if it pertains to my lifting."

"Your technique is flawless, Lexie. Nothing to criticize there." And so was everything else about her, it appeared, from her clean, All American, cheerleader good looks to her life generally, it seemed to him. If the dictionary showed a picture of a high achiever, he would fully expect to see a headshot of Lexie Mandel, former cheerleader and CrossFit athlete turned top female Olympic lifter and future physical therapist if she followed the professional path she set for herself, and Dan had no doubt she would. Dan thought of her as the poster girl for Life Is Unfair, the envy of many who wished nature had so endowed them with such glorious DNA. He was doing it again, putting her on that damn pedestal, something he promised her he'd never do.

"Well, there's always room for improvement," she said. "Nobody's perfect. Like I've told you on the phone, I handled that situation with Ben all wrong. If I had only..." She shook her head. "There I go again, blaming myself for something I know on some level I couldn't prevent."

He reached across the table and took her hand. "Finally, you're coming around to seeing the truth. Ben was out of control, a ticking time bomb. We're both fortunate he didn't turn that gun on us."

She sighed. "Right, I know that. I'm taking things day by day, grateful that I have good friends like you to rely on and support me. If you hadn't been there for me that day, I'm not sure what I would have done."

"Aw shucks, it was nothing," Dan said, making a stab at comic relief.

A faint smile creased Lexie's pouty lips. "Well, aw shucks yourself, Dan Kramer, because it was a big deal to me."

"Anytime," Dan said, throwing back another chug.

Lexie watched him drink, hearing the echo of Dan's comment about not wanting her to think he was hitting on her. If he did, would that be such a bad thing? Maybe she was ready for something more with him. Nothing serious, a word she knew to bracket in quotes because serious was a relative thing, a word that could mean different things to different people. Right now, serious would be a passionate smooch in the car or on a park bench. No, she wasn't yet ready to get "involved." She did feel ready to snuggle, to kiss and be kissed, to be, on several levels, turned on. And who better to do that than Dan Kramer, one good looking dude without the arrogance and conceit of so many muscle guys she knew.

After they got outside, she suggested they take a walk along the waterfront, long since renewed as a tourist attraction of retail pavilions, brick promenades and chic restaurants. They mingled among the other strollers on this warm Saturday afternoon, eyeing each other when they weren't watching the usual harbor attractions, all those boats, from the ubiquitous water taxis to the yachts and schooners. A few minutes into their stroll, Lexie slipped her hand into his. "Don't think I'm hitting on you," she said, hoping he'd take it as a parody of his previous comment.

He laughed. "No, absolutely not."

"And not even when I do this." She stopped, cupped her hands around his face and kissed him.

"No, of course not," he said. "Nor should you think the same thing when I do this." Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close and kissed her back, deep but gentle. A half minute later, he said, "How was that for a non-hitting on you kiss?"

She backed away and took a few deep breaths. "For not hitting on me, that was pretty good."

They both laughed and then strolled on a few blocks before finding a wood bench by the water's edge. The glare from the sun's reflection off the water prompted Lexie to slip on her sunglasses. Holding his hand, she watched the boats while her mind raced with a pastiche of thoughts, from term papers and final exams to the World University Championships, only weeks away.

"Dan, I was thinking."

He threw his arm around her. "Yes? I'm always interested in your thoughts."

"Okay, well, as you know, the Worlds this year are being held in Columbus, Ohio, and I was just wondering..." She hesitated to ask him something that he might feel was an imposition. "I was just wondering if you'd like to see me compete in Columbus. It would mean a lot to me if you could be there. I realize it would cost some bucks to get out there, and you could always see it through live streaming video."

"Live streaming video? No way. I'd love to see you compete in the Worlds. It would be your first international contest, right?"

"Yes, it would. So you'll come?" She beamed.

"Of course I'll come. How are you getting there?"

"I'll be flying out with Marc Boddiger, my coach. Believe it or not, the college is picking up eighty percent of my airfare and hotel."

"Really? I didn't think colleges thought weightlifting was such a big deal."

"Like football or basketball, no. But some schools even award partial scholarships for lifting now. Not Towson, but they figure it will bring the school added prestige if one of their students medals in a world championship."

*****

When it was time to go, Dan walked Lexie to her car. She gave him a big kiss goodbye, told him she might not see him again until the contest because of commitments to school and training. "Hopefully we'll have time to play out there after the lifting," she said. He pondered what she meant by "play," though left it at that. He didn't want to seem too pushy; he'd know soon enough.

He spoke to her by phone the day before she left. "My training's gone real well," she told him. "Made a personal best in the snatch, came close in the clean and jerk. Feeling real confident."

He flew out the following day on Southwest, rented a car and got a room at the downtown Hampton Inn and Suites. Convenient to the Convention Center, it was a hulking, seven-story building that dominated a whole city block. Lexie and her coach were also staying there. He had debated the merits of staying there, thinking he might be in her way. Then he concluded why not. She did invite him, almost insisted that he see her compete. He figured it was convenient, would make it easier for them to socialize when she had some free time. After checking in, he called her on her cell.

"Hey dude, can't talk long," she said, "I'm just starting some tune-up training for the contest, working up to near opening attempts. But you can watch me train if you'd like."

After logging onto Map Quest for directions, he hopped into his rented black Chrysler 200 and arrived at a well-equipped CrossFit/Olympic lifting gym just as Lexie had finished her pre-workout stretch. About two-dozen people were there, training on five lifting platforms. Save for coaches and a few friends who took seats on metal folding chairs scattered around the room, there wasn't much of an audience.

Lexie, wearing spandex short-shorts, sports bra and lifting shoes, was going through the motions with an empty bar on one of the platforms when she saw Dan come in. She set the bar down, came over and gave him a hug. "Glad you could make it," she said. "Nice chest," she added, feeling the mound of pectoral muscle under his tight-fitting, silver, long-sleeve Under Armour pullover.

He chuckled as he looked over her shoulder to see a stocky, muscular guy in black Nike shorts, black t-shirt and green cross trainers coming toward them. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and, like Dan, wore his hair, black and short, sans a part. Unlike Dan, he wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked somewhat hostile.

Lexie stepped aside. "Dan, this is my coach, Marc Boddiger. Marc, this is Dan Kramer, the new Junior National champion who—ˮ

"I know who he is," Marc said abruptly, refusing to shake Dan's hand when Dan offered it. He glared at Dan with angry blue eyes. Turning to Lexie, he said, "Look, not to interrupt, but you need to keep training. You can socialize afterward."

"Marc, this isn't what you might think. Dan's just here to see me train and compete." Lexie said that as if she might have expected that kind of hostile reaction from Marc.

"Well, like I said, you can socialize later. Now, do you mind returning to the platform? We've got work to do."

Dan turned to Marc and said, "Does this mean you want me to leave?"

"You're not going anywhere," Lexie cut in. "Just take a seat. We'll talk later." She stared Marc down as if daring him to argue.

Dan watched her return to the platform. He recognized this Marc Boddiger from when he saw Lexie capture her own Junior National title in Philadelphia.

Apologetically, he said, "Didn't mean to cause any trouble, pal, but Lexie invited me here."

Marc threw his hands on his hips in a stance of defiance. He stood a couple inches shorter than Dan's five-foot-ten but was just as thickly muscled. "Yeah, well, Lexie's in serious training here, PAL. As you know, a world championship is at stake. Are you guys dating? What are you, Ben Vogel's would-be successor?"

This caught Dan totally off guard. What the hell was this guy's problem? He laughed incredulously. "Dating? Not really. I'm just a friend who helped Lexie through her grief over Ben's suicide. Why?" Dan could see the tension in Marc's face relax slightly.

"That's good," Marc said, "because she doesn't need the distraction."

"Rest assured, she won't get it from me. So, can I stay?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Marc said before returning to his place on the side of the platform to watch Lexie warm-up with the 20kg Olympic bar.

Dan took a seat on one of the metal folding chairs. The familiar sounds of Olympic lifting filled the room, the rattling and thud of barbells being loaded, lifted and dropped, the shouts of encouragement from lifters and coaches. All these young men and women from around the globe would soon be competing in the World University Championships. Dan could see that Lexie was among the female standouts, explosive and strong, with almost flawless technique as he had told her. Of course, it didn't hurt that she was eye candy in spandex, those powerful, shapely quads doing a number on his libido, levitating his cock ever so slightly. He still couldn't read what she wanted from him. Was it simply platonic friendship or something more? And what did she mean telling Marc 'this isn't what you might think'? Whatever, he felt flattered that she wanted him here, had stood up to Marc who obviously didn't.

Lexie appeared in superb form, toying with 84kg in the snatch and 110kg in the clean and jerk, way below her max. "Looks like you're in the zone," Dan said from his seat.

Lexie smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. "Let's hope I'm still there by tomorrow."

"Great workout," Marc said. "My golden girl's going for the gold."

Lexie sat beside Dan while slipping on her red and black warm-up suit. "So where are you staying, Dan? I forgot to ask when we spoke earlier." When he told her Hampton Suites and Inn, Marc gave him another dirty look. Stay out of our way is how Dan read it. Lexie simply nodded. Dan then asked Lexie if she wanted to get some coffee or something. She said yes, despite Marc's admonishing look. She told him she'd see him back at the hotel.

Once in Dan's rented Chrysler, Lexie said, "Coffee's okay but I could go for another Yuengling. I had a really good time with you that day by the harbor."

Dan started the engine. "I could go for a Yuengling myself. I just thought because it's so close to contest time, you'd be abstaining."

"One beer's not gonna hurt. If anything it will help me relax."

"Okay, Yuengling it is," he said. Dan drove through the downtown area, looking for a place they could stop. He'd never been to Columbus in his life, and therefore drove slower than he would through territory he knew well. Turning onto East Main Street, he spotted Sidebar Columbus, a place that looked promising, if for no other reason than its exterior reminded him of those cozy tavern/restaurants in Baltimore's gentrified Canton neighborhood.

After pulling up to a parking space, he said, "I'd bet Marc might have a different opinion about you consuming alcohol this close to the competition."

"Maybe," Lexie said, unbuckling her seatbelt, "but he'd be the last one who has a right to talk, not with the way he drinks."

"Interesting," Dan said, before alighting from the car. "By the way, what's his problem with me? The dude gave me the evil eye the second he saw me. Then he asked if we were dating, as if he had designs on you beyond coaching."

"Right. Well, maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but he kind of does."

"Is that right?" Dan said as they walked in.

"Nice place," Lexie said, admiring the walls of exposed brick, the subdued track lighting and the dark wood beams that framed the large windows.

A slim, sliver haired gentleman directed them to a table for two by one of the side windows, a few feet from the bar. The place was practically empty. After the man gave their order to the bar tender, Dan said, "It sounds like he might be more than just your coach. No wonder he was so hostile."

Briefly, Lexie glanced out the window before facing him. "In his mind, maybe. In mine, he's still my coach." She frowned and slowly shook her head.

Just then, their beers came, and Lexie took a gulp before telling him more. "Marc's been coaching me for close to two years, ever since I quit CrossFit to devote full time to Olympic lifting. He knows his stuff, put up some impressive numbers himself back in the day before a knee injury buried his dream to make the Olympics. I've made great progress under him. It's only since Ben's death that he's tried to be more than just a coach. Like you, he comforted me, lent me support. Then, one night in a moment of weakness—and I've had so many of those moments since Philly—he started kissing me. Well, one thing led to another and we had sex. It bothered me because even though I think Marc's a nice looking guy, he's not someone I want to become romantically involved with. In ways, he reminds me of Ben. Maybe not as crazy or violent, but just as high-strung in his own way, possessive, overly territorial. I mean, look at the way he came off to you. Since that night, I've told him I'm not interested in getting involved with him, told him to back off. However, he's continued to pursue me. It's worse when he drinks. There's been times when I've had to physically fight him off."