“If you check out the Notes app, you’ll see the entire breakdown of the choreography,” I explain. “You can follow along, so you can see where, for example, I spin around on my butt, but you’ll actually do a wolf turn.”

“Got it,” she says, peering at the screen.

“And when I do a switch leap with a full turn and it sucks, you’ll do a switch leap with a full turn but make it look good,” I say in the same matter-of-fact tone, hoping she’ll laugh.

She snickers. “Understood.”

I unzip my hoodie and kick off my sneakers. They’ll only get in the way. I hear the bars creaking on the other side of the gym; Ryan is doing pull-ups. His muscles bulge cartoonishly. I force myself to look away.

“Ready?” she asks, once I’ve struck the starting pose on the floor.

“Ready!” I say.

“Jazz Fling” fills the room. To the extent that I can, I perform the hell out of the routine with the same passion and intensity I used to give the judges. I need to sell Hallie on this routine. It strikes me—while upside down, midway through a cartwheel we’re all kindly pretending is Hallie’s third tumbling pass—that the thrill of this performance isn’t so far off from the adrenaline high I used to get from doing my own routine during competition. Maybe there can be real joy on the sidelines as a coach and a choreographer. When I’m finished, I retreat toward her, trying desperately to catch my breath.

“Okay, cool, teach me,” Hallie says, bouncing up to her feet.

“You like it?” I ask.

“Well…” She fidgets, scratching the back of one calf with the other foot. She looks at me with a shy gaze. “It’s different. I’ll give it a try.”

She’s clearly skeptical, but not strong-willed enough to challenge my judgment. I’m relieved she doesn’t reject the routine flat out, but I know I can’t let my expression waver. The coach-gymnast relationship is sacred and built on a concrete foundation of respect and trust; she can’t catch on to the fact that I’m anxious and have feelings that can be hurt, just like anyone else.

“Whew, okay. Let’s break it down from the top. Start here, a couple feet out from this corner,” I instruct, pointing to the spot in which she needs to stand.

From the other side of the floor, I see Ryan watching us with a smile.