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Allison kissed Renee for the first time during the summer before their fourth year of college.
Her and Seth had been on one of their normal break-ups before the make-up, and she’d been a little tipsy at a post-game party, and it had been the first day Renee thought a woman was more than objectively beautiful. The kiss itself had been random and spontaneous; it bore itself from a conversation about Allison’s track record with her relationships. Renee had mentioned never really dating before, Allison had asked if she’d had her first kiss, and the rest writes itself. Allison didn’t seem to think much of it. Renee’s world felt a little like it had torn itself in half.
And then Allison got back with Seth, and then Neil came, and then Baltimore happened, and Jean was rescued from the Nest, and it was such an incredible whirlwind of events that Renee didn’t have any trouble distracting herself. Their fifth year season brought with it a sense of calm that had been sorely missed. The bittersweet aspect is that it forced Renee to evaluate herself.
Allison kisses Renee for the second time just after their first game.
The Foxes won, but only just. The freshmen are still uncoordinated and don’t respect Neil the way they should. An opponent knocked Kevin so hard against the wall that it distracted Andrew, causing him to miss a goal. Jack got his first red card, to no one’s surprise, but it had still been demoralizing.
Renee finds herself alone in the empty locker room with half the lights turned off. The others have already left for the afterparty, but Renee wants to sit with her thoughts for a bit. This is her last first exy game ever. In ten months, she will step onto the court for the last time. She removes her goalkeeper armor, lays her back flat against the wooden bench, and closes her eyes to pray.
“Don’t tell me you’re feeling sentimental,” Allison’s voice calls from the locker room doorway.
Renee sits up and straddles the bench. Allison should be at the Fox Tower with the others, but she’s here, arms folded across her chest as she assesses Renee with an unreadable expression. She strides closer—confident, as always—and mirror’s Renee’s position. She leans her weight forward and stares into Renee’s eyes like she’ll find buried treasure.
“Don’t tell me you’re not,” Renee counters lightly.
Allison scoffs. It blows a stray strand of blonde hair away from her eyes. “I won’t have trouble leaving this sport. Maybe Palmetto.”
“Maybe.”
Allison pauses. Then, “Maybe you.”
The flutter in Renee’s stomach isn’t familiar, but it’s instantly recognizable. She bites her bottom lip and glances away, suddenly self-conscious of whatever expression she might be wearing. “I’m flattered.”
Silence falls, and Renee taps her finger against the wooden bench. She knows a flush is rising to her cheeks. It’s just a friendly jab, she reminds herself. It doesn’t mean anything; it never did.
“Are you and Jean a thing?”
The question has Renee snapping her attention back to Allison’s face. The dealer has leaned much closer, palms flat against the bench. The way she pushes her shoulders forward makes her collarbones sharp and defined and Renee has a wild, unbidden thought that she wants to bite them.
“No,” Renee says. “We were never anything.”
“Did you want to be?”
“Where is this coming from?” Renee asks, her voice unintentionally breathy. It’s just that Allison makes it difficult to remember she needs actual air.
Allison has always been more confident than anyone else on the team, so it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise when she reaches out to cup Renee’s cheek. Her lips are pink, free of their usual lacquer. She’s washed her face but her mascara wasn’t entirely removed, leaving smudged shadows on the corners of her eyes. She’s so close that Renee can feel her breath against her own lips.
“I wanted to know,” she murmurs, “if you liked kissing me.”
Renee answers without hesitation, “I did.”
“I think I want to do it again,” Allison admits.
Renee can’t speak. She only nods, and that’s all Allison needs before their lips are crashing together. It’s hungry, like a bonfire being fed too liberally. Allison’s teeth scrape Renee’s bottom lip and Renee gasps, opening her mouth just enough for Allison to deepen the kiss. Renee is lost, dizzy and devoid of oxygen, and when they finally part, she chases air and Allison’s tongue.
That’s what jumpstarts it.
The kissing. The touching. Allison finds her after class and shoves her into a secluded corner where they can safely devour each other. They wait until Dan is asleep and fumble their way into the kitchen, tripping over their feet and pushing one another against the counter with only the oven light to guide them. Allison touches her, all the time, every day, under tables and during practice when Allison hands off racquets to the team. It’s addicting. It’s better than any drug Renee has ever tried, and she’s tried plenty.
They don’t really talk about it, though, and Renee realizes this as a blunder one evening when Allison has her pressed against the wall in the locker room. Allison has her hands, hot and needy, exploring the expanse of Renee’s back under her jersey. Renee’s fingers are tangled in Allison’s hair, loosening her brain by the second.
Allison pulls back just enough to murmur, “You want more, baby?”
Renee’s head spins. “More?”
“Haven’t touched you yet,” Allison whispers into her mouth. “You want me to? I bet you’re wet for me already, aren’t you?”
“Shit,” Renee breathes. “Yes.”
“I’d be so good to you. I’d show you what it’s like to come on my fingers. You want that?”
“Yes, fuck—”
And they’re so wrapped up in each other that neither of them notice when the rest of the team bursts into the room.
They break apart. Allison practically flies away from her, nearly stumbling over one of the benches in her attempt to separate them. Matt says, “Oh, shit,” and Nicky is, for once, speechless.
“You guys are dating?!” Dan practically squeals.
Renee opens her mouth to answer, though she doesn’t know what to say—they haven’t labeled themselves as anything, and it’s not like this has been anything but physical. She almost says as much, but Allison beats her to it.
“We’re not dating,” she rushes out, cheeks and ears a matching shade of red.
And, oh.
Oh, that doesn’t feel nice.
It must show on her face. The next person’s eyes she meets end up being Andrew’s; his facial features are predictably blank, but there’s a question there that asks, talk later? And Renee nods, because she doesn’t know where the fuck to begin.
They don’t actually get a chance to talk until two days later, when they both have a free period and meet up on the Green. It’s a beautiful morning in early September, and Renee soaks up the sunshine as much as she can, like a rechargeable battery. Andrew, by comparison, has his black hood up over his fair hair. He sits cross-legged, spiral notebook in his lap and textbook on the grass, held open by his new iPhone.
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved with her if you wanted it to go anywhere,” Andrew says.
Renee glances at him, momentarily blinded by the sun that halos him from behind. “Who says I wanted it to go anywhere?”
“Your face, when she denied that you were dating.”
“We aren’t dating.” Renee lays back on the grass, enjoying the way it threads itself through her hair. “It’s just...physical. Like what you and Neil have.”
Andrew freezes. Only his eyes move as his gaze snaps to Renee’s face. “And what is it that I have with him, then?”
“You know,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “Touching. Kissing. You care about him, that much is obvious, but it’s not like you’re his boyfriend.”
Andrew promptly closes his notebook and his textbook. He shifts his shoulders so that he faces Renee completely, hands folded in his lap. “Natalie Renee Walker. He is my boyfriend.”
She blinks. Of all the things she believed Andrew could be, that he could become, being someone’s boyfriend was pretty low on her list. “You’ve told me before you would rather die before you became someone’s boyfriend.”
“We are never going to fit within the stereotypical box of a relationship,” Andrew says. “It’s not who we are. I would not call Neil my boyfriend. I wouldn’t say we were dating. Unless someone asked; in which case, I would be more concerned with speaking in layman’s terms.”
“Meaning you don’t want anyone to think he’s available,” she half-teases.
Andrew shrugs one shoulder. “Perhaps. Moreso for the sake of simplicity. I kiss him, I fuck him, we know things about each other that no one else does, and we sleep in the same bed. We’ll have been doing it for a year in January, which I think is well-past the limits of a friends-with-benefits situation.”
Renee swallows. “Does Neil know that?”
“We’re different,” Andrew tells her. “We’re both men, but we’re also both more damaged than the average, stupid ape on this campus. You and Allison could say the same about each other, yes?”
Renee stares at a passing cloud and thinks. Her and Allison have always been close; closer to each other than the rest of the team, aside from Andrew. Renee knows for a fact that Allison has divulged secrets no one else knows, whispered in the dark, wrapped in blankets and staring at the stars. Renee’s chest constricts at the thought.
“When did you know it was something more?” she asks softly.
Andrew’s expression is unmoving. “When I saw him in Baltimore. I knew before that, of course, but that was when I decided I might actually want to do something about it.”
“What do I tell her?”
“Do you want it to be more than physical? Think carefully. Half the dilemma is separating what you want from what you believe you have to do.”
Renee sighs. “Meaning, it might be best to stay physical.”
“No. Not always.” Andrew pauses to find the right words. “Ask yourself: if she disappeared tomorrow, would you be kissing another girl?”
“She’s the only one I’ve ever wanted,” Renee says, and it’s a fact, and it tumbles from her lips with ease, but it shocks her all the same.
“Like I said. You got involved. You decide whether or not you want it to become something else, and you address it before it gets out of control. I speak from experience: you do not want to figure it out the hard way.”
Renee doesn’t have to worry about Allison getting kidnapped and tortured by a mafia boss, but Andrew has a point. This was always going to boil over and hit the burner eventually. It’s not as though Renee has the capacity to kiss and kiss and kiss and walk away as if nothing ever happened. But she’s never had a relationship. She’s never seen a need for one.
Allison, though. Allison is a need.
–
Allison does not kiss her for the next three days. In fact, even afterwards, between short pecks, they orbit around each other, never quite touching but always gravitationally aligned.
It all comes to a head after their game against the Ravens.
Andrew is hurt. Neil’s ribs are broken, which is shitty, but manageable. Andrew, though, has to undergo surgery. He has to be unconscious in a room full of people he doesn’t know. The Foxes stay home to heal while Renee, Neil, Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin spend their time in the hospital’s waiting room.
Neil is a wreck. He’s pacing. Aaron has already snapped at him, and Neil has snapped back. Neil’s auburn hair (it’s overgrown, he really should ask Allison to cut it for him) is tangled and messy with how many times he’s run his hands through it.
It’s all too much, and Renee has to find her own peace; there’s still another hour or so until Andrew is out of surgery, and then another hour until the anesthesia wears off. She will be there when he wakes. But there’s enough time to get some fresh air.
Renee finds a spot on the curb where she can stretch out her legs. The slightest bite of winter is nipping at her nose. She wonders if Andrew is dreaming while they work on him. She wonders if he’ll get any sleep for the next three days; there’s a zero percent chance he’ll accept any pain medication.
She’s so lost in her own thoughts that she doesn’t even notice Allison’s arrival, until her car door is closing and Allison’s heels click across the pavement.
Renee straightens, preparing to direct her to the waiting room, but Allison just situates herself on the curb next to Renee. It’s the closest they’ve been to each other in days. Above them, a cold white street light flickers. Renee twists her fingers together. She chances a glance at Allison, and sees that her blonde hair is wrapped up into a messy bun. Allison is wearing old sweatpants and an older t-shirt with Dan’s friendship bracelet around her wrist.
“How is he?” Allison croaks.
She’s not close with Andrew. But the idea of the Ravens coming after two of their teammates is probably bringing up many bad memories—ones Allison never wanted to revisit. Renee breathes deep and ignores the stale, lingering scent of exhaust.
“Still in surgery,” Renee says. “He’ll be out soon, and then the boys will be in his room when he wakes up.”
“I broke my shoulder cheerleading once,” Allison quips. “Hurts like a bitch. He’ll only need a sling, though. No cast.”
Renee can’t help but smile. “Assuming he wears it.”
Allison barks a laugh. “Yeah. Fat chance. Stupid, typical Minyard.”
Renee shares in the laughter; it’s a little forced, but whoever said laughter is the best medicine wasn’t too far off. Especially when Allison is the one laughing.
“So,” Allison says after an age, “wanna explain why you’ve been avoiding me?”
Renee bites her lip. She doesn’t know how to answer—doesn’t know how to explain that she wants them to be more.
“Because if I did something wrong, I wanna know what it is so I can fix it,” Allison says quietly.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just thinking. About what happened in the locker room.”
Allison winces. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Hey, listen, we can stop—if you wanna go back to just friends, we can.”
“That’s my crisis.” Deep breaths, Renee. Remember what Andrew said. “I want more, Allison. I want a lot more.”
Her heart is pounding. She has to consciously inhale to get enough oxygen to her brain. Renee swallows the urge to keep speaking, to ramble about her feelings and what she said to Andrew and how difficult it is to need something—someone—when you grew up clawing for everything. But she waits. She allows Allison the grace to gather her own thoughts.
“You think I don’t want more?” Allison finally whispers.
“You said we weren’t dating,” Renee says, equally as softly.
“We aren’t,” Allison says. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be yours.”
Renee can’t feel her fingers. Allison’s words ring like a bell; clear, blinding, demanding.
Is she allowed to have this? To have a relationship? Renee thinks back to her home, to North Dakota. She’s never told Stephanie about Allison. What would holidays be like? Would Stephanie accept two women together? She’s never shown an inclination to the contrary, but the fear is still manifesting itself. And the team—how would it change everything? With Andrew and Neil down for the next few games, will they be off-kilter? If Renee stops whatever this is, right now, would they ruin the team’s dynamic?
Suddenly, Allison’s cold fingers brush Renee’s chin. Renee is forced to meet her eyes. Allison explores them with her own. “Do you want to be mine, Natalie?”
Renee’s entire body glows. “Yes. I want you.”
A small smile quirks Allison’s lips. “Can I call you my girlfriend?”
That startles a bubbly laugh from Renee’s chest. It’s giddy; it feels like she’s high. Allison is ready and open for her, looking gorgeous like she just rolled out of bed. Renee tucks her lip between her teeth and tugs at Allison’s ponytail, watching as her blonde hair tumbles from the top of her head. Renee drags her fingers through it, breathing deep, comforted by the familiar scent of her vanilla conditioner.
“Yes,” Renee promises. “And I will call you my girlfriend.”
Allison’s eyes widen, almost as if she hadn’t been expecting the actual word. Her palm slips around the back of Renee’s neck and tugs.
They’re kissing, then, and Renee is breathing air after being underwater for days. A dam breaks. A levee shatters. She pours every fucking ounce of her feelings into this kiss, willing Allison to understand that she needs this, and that this isn’t nothing, and that they’re supposed to be together. They’re supposed to be girlfriends.
When they part, panting and blushing, Renee giggles again. “Andrew is going to be pleased.”
“You told the monster about us?” Allison whispers in horror.
“That’s something you’ll need to account for. If you tell me, you tell him.”
Allison smirks. “Everything?”
Oh. Oh, well, “no. Not everything. Not—you know.”
Allison’s thumb brushes the apple of Renee’s cheek and she grins, sly and mischievous. “So if I, I dunno, asked you to get in bed with me later while Dan is in Matt’s room…”
Renee’s breath catches. “I would not tell him that.”
“Good. You’re my girlfriend, but I want you all to myself.” Allison presses a quick kiss to Renee’s nose. “If that’s okay. Girlfriend. Babe. Baby. Do you have a preference?”
“Anything you call me is perfect.”
“Again with the anything and everything. That’s a dangerous game to play, babe.”
Renee smiles.
“Anything and everything is exactly what I’m giving you.”