Chapter 9

Taylor's POV

The bright beams from the rising sun break through the horizontal shades, cascading its light throughout the room and jarring me enough from the realm of sleep to bring me back to consciousness.  As I slowly open my eyes, allowing my body the time to acclimate to the intrusion, I push myself up the bed into a sitting position.  The grey comforter and swirling lines is the first thing I notice and I let out a sigh.

Recalling the events of last night, immediately my head swirls as I remember taking care of Justin, rubbing his back with my sports crème, cuddling into the opposite corner of the couch as him and falling asleep almost instantly.  I don't even remember yawning or resting my eyes, just waking up in the middle of the night, a blanket tucked tightly up to my shoulders, the TV off and Justin no where in sight. 

I have never felt like a bigger idiot than I did than, falling asleep at Justin Timberlake's cabin.  Knowing that I should head home, I quickly folded the blanket and collected my things before heading out into the cool, crisp night air. 

So, here I sit safely in the comfort and confines of my own cabin, hoping like hell that I didn't make an even bigger fool of myself last night.

Glancing at the alarm clock on the side of the bed, I realize the time and I am set for practice in thirty minutes.  Nearly throwing myself from the bed, I hop into the shower and start gathering my racing equipment.  I barely have enough time to grab some breakfast before loading my Tahoe and heading towards the hill.  Noticing the time, I should have probably called or texted Justin to make sure that he wasn't feeling too sore after that crash yesterday but I am running behind and the last thing that I need right now is the harassment from my coach. 

Quickly, I pull into the parking lot of the hill and start unloading my equipment, thankfully my racing skis are already safely stored at the hill, one less thing for me to carry.  Throwing my gear over my shoulder, I toss my cell phone inside, the power turned off and my head tuned into the practice session ahead.

"Morning, Taylor," Rob's chirpy voice echoes into the small room that is reserved for us to watch the tapes of my races. 

Tossing my gear onto the ground, I throw my body into a chair.  "Morning..."

"Well, you're looking like you're ready for this."

"Sorry, just a long night I guess."

"Well that's understandable; everyone is entitled to those once and a while.  But we really have a lot to cover today, and I am going to need you at full force."

I let out a sigh, running my hand through my long hair and tying it back.  "I know, I'm sorry, Rob.  I'll be ready."

"Sounds good, Taylor.  I'll let you get changed; meet me at peak 10 on Cimmaron hill.  I have the gates already drawn up for Giant Slalom today."

Nodding my head in agreement, I immediately start pulling out my racing suit, shells, and iPod.  For some reason, my head is not in the game and I absolutely need to turn it on before I head out there.  With the Olympics only two months away and the World Cup just right around the corner, I can't afford to be losing focus on the goal ahead.  I need to get my head off the superstar that is quickly becoming a good friend of mine and back on the race of my career. 

Scrolling through my racing playlists, I spot the perfect song and hit play, knowing that its hard hitting beats and ability to get me ready for the game is what I need right now. 

The world is a vampire, sent to drain.

Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames.

What do I get, for my pain?

Sliding my racing suit on, I snap my shells on and tighten my boots.  The tight grip around my ankles, the feel of the racing material against my skin, the pull of my hat across my hair, all of it helps bring my focus to the hill, toward the practice ahead and away from the superstar in the cabin.

Reaching for my iPod, I slide it into the pocket on the outside of my jacket, securing the earbuds and zipping up my jacket.  Locking the door behind me, I walk into the room where my skis and poles are currently being housed and grab them.  Making my way onto the hill, the music drowning out the commotion of the world around me, I quickly make my way up to the hill to where Rob is waiting for me.

As I ski over to the starting gate, I pop the skis off and start to shed the extra clothing, making sure to remove my iPod as well. 

"All right, we had a great race at the prelims, but to be honest there were certainly some rough spots, Taylor."

"Oh I know, I almost crashed and burned.  The sad part is the fact that I train on these hills.  I, of all people, should know the bumps, turns, and lifts of the hill."

Rob nods his head, knowing that he doesn't need to chastise me anymore.  I clearly feel the pressure and the need to have a better showing at the World Cup in Austria.  "I've been in contact with the Olympic coach; he wants you ready to leave Breckenridge soon and head up to Vail to train with the rest of the team."

"What?" My head immediately snaps in his direction, that is that last thing I expected him to say.

"I told him that I felt like we needed more time to train, and he agreed with my methods," he explains.  "I guess it helps when I can say you're the number one ranked women's skier in the world...and well, that usually does the talking for me."

I laugh at Rob's ability to make me smile, despite the pressure I am putting on myself.  "Thanks, you know I love you."

"Yeah, well, win a gold and we'll call it even."

"Trust me, I am working on it."

Rob nods his head, a smile on his lips as he prepares the starting gate for me.  "Watch yourself on the inside turns, don't get so far back on the skis, and push harder if you feel yourself getting behind on the turns.  That should help right yourself and keep you on the tips of your skis."

I barely acknowledge his advice as I slid into the starting gate, positioning my poles on either side of the time gate. 

"We're going to be here all day until we get this right, you got me?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Good, give me thirty seconds to get down a bit and then we'll start," he says, immediately pushing his skis away from the gate.  "Good luck, Taylor."

As I sit there, my arms outstretched, my fingers clenching and unclenching around the grips of my poles, my goggles secured over my eyes, I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the training ahead.  I need to get this right, so many people are counting on me to show up and put up at the games, and if I can't master these turns on this hill, there's no way I am going to survive Vancouver.

Giving myself one final prep talk, I kick up my skis, my shins sliding through the time gate and I start pumping, harder and faster than I ever have.  It's time to get this shit figured out, and it's up to me to put the time, dedication and focus into my career and these races.

My training session has lasted well into the evening, each race, each run down the hill being scrutinized to the millionth degree.  Every twist, every turn, all of it has been torn apart and analyzed to further my career, my development as a racer, and I'm mentally as well as physically exhausted.  I haven't trained this hard in a long time.  The constant up and down the hill, the smooth turns of the skis, the sliding and spraying of powder as I push the edges to the limits, all of it has been encased in my mind, pushing away any thoughts other than my runs. 

As tired as I am, I needed this day just to keep my head in the game.  The Olympics are a far cry from anything I have competed in so far, and I desperately needed to get my head back into the mindset that I cam here with.

"Listen, Taylor..." Rob starts as I remove the layers of racing equipment and throw it all in my bag back in the chalet, "I know you're tired and I couldn't have asked for a better training day out of you, but there's something else I need you to do."

I sigh.  "What is it?"

"You're scheduled for a press junket in an hour back in the conference room."

"A press junket, Rob, really?  I just spent ten hours out on the hill...I'm beat."

"I know, and I'll be there with you the whole time.  But the US Team has already sanctioned this meeting, there's nothing I can do."

Realizing there's no fighting it and it's a part of the gig, I merely agree just because I am too tired to care either way.  It's not that I hate the press, they haven't really done anything to me other than help generate a good buzz around my races, I am just tired and a press junket this late is the last thing I feel like doing.

"Give me a second to change and I'll be right behind you."

"Thanks, Taylor."

As I fold the remaining pieces of racing gear and tuck them neatly into my bag, I spot my cell phone sitting in the corner.  Reaching for the contraption, I turn it on, setting it on the table as I package up my goggles in their protective bag.  Immediately, my phone buzzes across the table and I grab it.

Two new text messages.

Thanks for the treatment and therapy session last night.  I'll have you know my back is feeling pretty decent despite the nasty bruise that takes up most of it.

I assume you have training today, good luck on the slopes, Taylor.  Give me a shout if you're bored.

Tossing on a fleece, I pull my hair out from underneath it and smooth a beanie over my head.  As I head toward the conference room, I make a quick call.

"Hello?" the masculine voice answers.

"Hey, Justin.  Glad to hear your back is healing."

He laughs lightly and it's a nice break from the seriousness of my day.  "Yeah, well, I certainly have done worse.  This is merely just a battle wound."

"Oh, I bet."

"How's your day, Taylor?"

"Hectic, serious, exhausting, still going..."

"I'm sorry about that...if it makes you feel any better, I have been bored out of my mind."

I laugh, even when he's trying to be serious, the hint of a whine in his voice makes me smile.  "I expected you to suddenly show up on the chairlift sometime, that's your specialty."

A hearty chuckle escapes his lips.  "Ahh, well, I figured I'd let you get some decent training in without me showing up, completely coincidental too, by the way."

"Whatever you say, Justin.  Listen, I have to run.  I have press to do.  But I just wanted to thank you for a good time last night."

"You have press? Now?"

"Yeah, trust me, that's the last thing I want to be doing tonight."

"Understandable.  All right, well I will let you go.  Good luck in there, Taylor."

"Thanks, Justin.  Bye."

Snapping my phone closed, I tuck it safely into my pocket before approaching the doors to the conference room.  As soon as I push open the heavy, wooden doors, I am immediately inundated with a couple flashes and at least twenty voices almost immediately speaking at the same time. 

"Whoa, there, guys, Taylor will answer all of your questions, just let her get settled.  We've been busy training all day and she's certainly a little tired from the hard work."

"Evening everyone," I say into the microphone that is positioned at the front of the room behind a table, Rob sitting to my right.

"Taylor, thank you so much for taking the time to do this junket."

"Not a problem, I'm glad to be here."  Ok, maybe a little bit of a stretch there...

"How are you feeling?  Any injuries or issues that you feel could hinder your performance at the World Cup and subsequently at the Olympics?"

I shake my head in response.  "None whatsoever.  I am feeling better than I ever have and I am in the best physical and mental shape for these upcoming races."

"Taylor, there's been talk about you training here in Breckenridge and not in Vail with the rest of the team.  Do you have any comments?"

"I can say that I absolutely adore my teammates and despite being on two different hills training, I am constantly in contact with them.  I have no ill-will toward anyone.  The reason for my training taking place here in Breckenridge is the ability to just completely focus on my races.  I am away from the outside influences and scrutiny from others, and I think I need that right now."

"How do you handle the pressure at such a young-age?" another reporter quips and the questions seem to be coming in rapid-succession.  They certainly aren't wasting time here.

"I try not to think about the pressure too much.  The best thing I can do is continue to train and focus on improving each and every race.  And if that doesn't work, I turn to my friends and family, they're more than supportive of my whole career."

"Taylor, have you heard about the rumblings of Pop Superstar Justin Timberlake being somewhere up here on vacation.  There had been talk about him actually being at the prelims race."

That question seems to jolt me in my chair and my eyes scan the room in a flurry.  Trying my best to mask my surprise at the question, I take a few steadying breaths before answering.  "I have not heard that, no.  And to be honest, I have been too focused on my races to pay attention to the gossip columns."

The reporter merely chuckles.  "Of course you have."

But the way his eyes linger on me, and the cocky smile that adorns his face, I don't think he believes a word I just said.

Thankfully the rest of the press junket returns to the talk about my skiing and I can't help but let out a sigh of relief.  The question about Justin has had me on edge since the moment it was asked, and there's nothing more pressing to me than to let him know about this whole encounter.  As the group disperses, I am immediately rushing down the hallway back to my private room, Rob hot on my heels.

"Taylor, wait up, what's got you in such a rush?"

"Nothing, Rob," I answer, spinning on my heels as I enter the room and grab my bag, hoisting it up and over my shoulder.  "I'm sorry that I am just running out on you, but I really need to get going...I'm exhausted."

"I understand, listen, Taylor, I have a couple of things that I need to take care of in Vail this week.  Will it be a problem if I head up there tomorrow, that way I can be back for training to continue by the weekend?"

"No, that's fine, Rob.  I can do some runs on my own."

"All right," he answers, a smile on his lips.  "Great job today.  I've never been more proud."

I halt my hectic pace for just a second and genuinely look at my coach.  He's been with me since my career began to flourish.  He's pushed me to better myself over and over again, always knowing when to press on and when to back off...he's been the best thing to happen to my career and I owe it all to him.  "Thanks, Rob, for just everything."

He gently claps his hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before looking me in the eye.  "It's what I'm here for.  Get some sleep!" he says before heading toward the door and out into the hall.

As I finish collecting my gear, I immediately take off out the other door and into the cool night air, heading straight for my SUV.  Throwing everything inside, I quickly climb inside and take off up the hills towards Justin's cabin.  Despite my heavy eyelids, sore muscles, and growling stomach, he needs to know about the junket...immediately. 

Practically flying up the hill, I pull into his driveway, relieved to see the lights on inside.  Turning the engine off, I hop outside and make my way up to his door.  One deep breath and my hand immediately reaches up to knock on the door.

Standing outside, I shift my weight from side to side as I wait for him to answer the door. 

"Taylor, what are you doing here?" he asks, the surprise evident in his voice.

"I need to talk to you."

"Sure, come on in," he answers, opening the door a little wider and allowing me the space needed to walk in. 

"I'm really sorry to barge in on you like this, especially so late."

"It's no trouble, I was still up," he admonishes my apology.  "Did you want anything to drink, or eat?"

"No, I can't stay, I should really get home.  But there was something that was asked at my press junket that I thought you should be aware of."

His weary eyes turn toward me, the hesitancy clear as his bright blue orbs take me in.  "What's that?"

"A reporter asked me if I had heard about the rumors of you being in the area, even at the prelims."

His eyes widen at my news.  "What did you say?"

"I lied, of course.  Told them that I was too focused on my racing to be reading the gossip column."

His laugh is the last thing I expect as I tell him the news but that's exactly what I get.  "Nice one..."

"Aren't you the least bit worried about it?"

"Oh definitely.  I just pictured you sitting down reading Us Weekly.  You don't strike me as the type."

"It's because I'm not..."

"True."

"So what are you going to do?" I ask, my hand nervously twitching at my side.  He seems to be awfully calm about the whole thing.

"The only thing I can do..." he starts, his hands coming up to run through his golden curls.  "I'm going to make an appearance in California and stop them from wondering about my whereabouts."

"You're leaving?" I ask, and the reaction that cuts through me at his words leaves me wondering. 

"Only temporarily, just enough to keep the paps guessing."

I nod my head, realizing his need to throw everyone off his heels but at the same time I am slightly disappointed in the prospect of him leaving.  He's quickly become an important part to my life here. 

"Do you want to come with?"