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Sjoeke stared through her book, no longer able to concentrate.
I’m coming up in a bit was all that the notification had said.
She hadn’t bothered opening the message to read it, the preview on her lock screen was enough. She had tossed her phone to the other side of the bed, screen down, as if that would push it out of her mind. It didn’t, and when the phone beeped again, reminding her that her message was unread, she nudged it further away with her foot.
She shut her book and placed it on the nightstand, then put her glasses on top. Sinking into the pillow she’d propped up, she then shut her eyes, trying to will herself to calm down. Nothing had even happened yet, but her chest was already tightening, her heartbeat picking up the pace just enough to be noticeable.
It had been a silly idea to try and avoid Hannah, but she had tried anyway.
December had been a blur, highs and lows coming at a dizzying pace that didn’t let her so much as catch her breath. On one hand, she finally felt like her legs were in game shape, letting her string together consecutive appearances that left her feeling like perhaps she was turning the corner with Sonia. On the other hand, the Nations League finals still lingered under her skin, she kept getting tagged in social media posts about rumours of her moving to Bayern, and she’d broken up with her boyfriend two weeks before Christmas, admitting to herself that it wasn’t him she wanted.
And now, the object of her affections was currently on her way to her.
Sjoeke didn’t know when it happened, how it happened, but only that one day, she realized the future she wanted wasn’t with him anymore. Maybe it was because everything else that had seemed so sure about her future had seemingly gone sideways, and nothing was off the table now, but whatever it was, the thought would not go away.
She had spent the subsequent days on auto-pilot, going through the motions, trotting out the platitudes that she’d long grown used to, with her mind completely elsewhere.
And then, Hannah returned to Cobham. She wasn’t back on the schedule yet, coming in for check-ins and updating her rehab program, but the sensation that seemed to pour over Sjoeke from head to toe when she saw her waiting at the front door that day – she recognized that feeling instantly.
It was her that she wanted.
It was Hannah that fit so well into every nook and cranny of Sjoeke’s life, that filled the spaces and complemented the pieces already there. She had been doing so this whole time, without Sjoeke noticing, until now.
With this fresh in her mind, Sjoeke had tried her hardest to make that day normal. Big hugs for the content team, jokes in the gym, but every time Hannah looked at her, Sjoeke felt like she had a large ‘I’M INTO YOU’ message scrawled across her forehead in permanent marker. She knew instantly that there was nothing that would be done, though, that it was destined to be an unrequited crush that would go nowhere.
When her agent had mentioned she’d come up as a player of interest for Bayern in passing a couple days later, the idea hadn’t seemed crazy. As long as her body let her, she’d be on the pitch, not in an office putting her degree to use, but where that was, and with whom, was now seemingly undetermined. Sjoeke hadn’t given more than five minutes of thought to leaving Chelsea for a while, but since everything seemed wide open now, maybe it did make sense to go back to Germany. Get a fresh start – in every facet of her life.
She knew she’d been obvious. She and Hannah, usually good for at least a dozen messages each way every day, had only wished each other a good Christmas when Sjoeke had gone home for the holidays. When they got on the plane to Portugal, she’d feigned tiredness and put her headphones on, eventually dozing off.
And without Maika nor Mara on the trip, the looming spectre of the January transfer window hung heavily. Sjoeke tried not to think about it.
“A bit” turned out to be another five minutes. When the knock came, Sjoeke sighed and stood up, donning her glasses on the way; she didn’t even bother with the peephole before she opened the door.
Hannah stood there in last season’s joggers and hoodie, her expression somewhere between frustrated and grateful. “When were you going to tell me?” she asked, voice high and tight.
Sjoeke averted her eyes; she’d never heard that tone directed at her before. Hannah hadn’t even teased her about her wearing her glasses before starting to lay in. She stood back to let Hannah in, who barged past her and sat down in the chair at the desk. Shutting the door quietly, Sjoeke sat at the foot of the bed, keeping her distance. “Tell you what?” she asked.
Hannah spluttered. “Anything!”
“You know everything that’s going on,” Sjoeke said thickly, knowing she was already lying.
“We only talked about your breakup when I overheard you talking to Erin about moving,” Hannah retorted. “We barely talked all break.” She took a breath. “Bayern? I don’t expect a daily digest on your life, Sio, but really, what the hell?”
“You know it is to give people things to talk about,” Sjoeke responded flatly, glossing over the first two points, despite their validity.
“It’s not just about Bayern,” Hannah snapped. “Plus, you haven’t even tried to deny it.”
The prickling of tears burned behind Sjoeke’s eyes, and she blinked them away. She hadn’t been able to look at Hannah, and she wasn’t about to start, not when she was on the verge of crying.
Sjoeke swallowed. “What is the phrase… a fresh start? It could–” she started.
“Fuck that,” Hannah snarled, interrupting her.
Sjoeke waited for Hannah to continue, but there was only silence. She chanced a glance towards Hannah, who wasn’t looking at her. Even in the dim light of the room, she could see the tension in every line of Hannah’s body and across her face. Her eyes were glassy, and she now looked like she had run out of steam. Whatever had powered her through the first moments of their exchange had been snuffed out.
“I don’t want you to go,” Hannah broke the silence, voice now subdued. “I want you to stay.”
“You do not know even if you are staying!” Sjoeke exclaimed before she could stop herself. She knew Hannah’s contract was also expiring soon, and that talks hadn’t begun yet. There were whispers, though, that work was already being done on others.
Hannah wiped at her eyes roughly with the back of one hand. “I get it though,” she whispered. “I know why–”
“You do not know why,” Sjoeke replied, and then immediately swore under her breath, realizing her mistake.
“I don’t?” Hannah asked.
Sjoeke felt her jaw clench of its own accord, her hands balling up the hem of her t-shirt. “No.”
“Sio, what’s really going on?” Hannah asked, looking Sjoeke dead in the eye, now concerned. “Can I do anything to help?”
Sjoeke almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, some of the tension in her body ebbing away. She was startled, however, when she noticed that Hannah started tearing up again. Immediately, her concern became the woman in front of her. “Hannah?”
Hannah let out a choked sob, turning away from Sjoeke in the swivel chair. She pulled a tissue from the box on the desk and wiped at her eyes again before balling it up, stuffing it in the pocket of her hoodie. “Sio, please.” She sniffled. “If I did anything…” She paused, clearly needing a moment to ensure she was saying exactly what she wanted to. “Sio. You mean everything to me. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know I want to fix it. To make whatever is going on better, if I can.”
Sjoeke’s heart sank. The words were perfect, but she knew Hannah hadn’t meant it in the way she wanted it to. “You cannot. Leave it, please.”
“I can’t,” Hannah said, an edge of desperation starting to creep into her voice. “Sio, I–”
Sjoeke reached out and pulled Hannah upwards and towards her by the wrist. The blonde stumbled forward, but Sjoeke caught her easily, standing so their faces were now inches apart. Without thinking, she leaned in and kissed Hannah firmly.
As soon as their lips touched, it felt just as Sjoeke had dreamt it, but she knew she couldn't let it go any further. Hannah had been so persistent, so earnest, despite being clearly hurt by her, that she could no longer resist, even though she had just made everything much worse.
Wrenching herself away, Sjoeke then leaned in, their faces inches apart. “That is why,” Sjoeke said hoarsely. She dropped Hannah’s wrist, still in her grasp. Belatedly, she realized her other hand had come up to cradle Hannah’s face, and she withdrew that as well. “Now you know everything.”