Golden Waters - 1/?
She’s America’s Sweetheart, the ‘royally inbred’ gymnastics star who’d spent her whole life dreaming of winning Olympic gold just as her parents both had. He’s the British bad boy who’d only turned to tennis as an escape from his painful past, and somehow found himself named to the Olympic team anyway. Suffice to say, they’d never seen each other coming. But you know what they say: What happens at the Olympic Games… changes your whole life?
Emma Nolan had officially never known she could look quite like that.
She’d stared for an awfully long time, trying to find something that looked off, looked wrong, but no. They’d abided by her one condition: absolutely no Photoshopping or editing of her image.
(Gymnastics pretty much required an unrealistic body type as it was. She wasn’t going to be responsible for promoting a gymnastics body that had been heavily computer enhanced.)
No, this was definitely all her.
Looking almost inhumanly beautiful, a Siren calling. She looked strong and gifted, ready to take on the world, ready to take flight.
The Olympic ideal, caught in mid motion of one of the moves she’d become famous for, one of the moves that the whole world expected to make her into a champion. Granted, a personal hair and makeup team made a world of difference - no wonder all the movie stars always looked so incredible at premieres and awards shows - and the stylist that had presented her with no less than the most stunning dress she’d ever laid eyes on, that helped too. Add in one of the most gifted sports photographers in the business, and she’d had a hell of a team to work with.
Still, it was all her. Her body, stretched and flexed, as far and pointed as possible within the limits of human capability. Her face, caught fierce in her focus.
She made one hell of a picture.
Which was good, cause God only knew how many thousands - millions? - of people were going to see it.
She was on the freaking cover of Sports Illustrated.